It never fails to take me an hour when I should only have taken five minutes when going on line. Then while I was here I thought, I should post. I have nothing to say. I should go to bed.
The problem is I am a night owl. I love being productive at night. I can function in the day. I prefer being awake at night so I have to force myself to go to sleep. I am a work-a-holic. Teaching hasn't changed my work ethic much. I am in the middle of correcting sketchbooks, as I teach art and I needed a sound break. TV didn't really grab me this evening. Work didn't either. I think I work just to work through my other thoughts, you know the ones that hide on you and then come back to bite you in the butt when you are not looking.
I just had a phone call from a good friend and I know she'd been on my mind for awhile I hadn't realized that it had been 7 months, I should just mail her surprise present! Spontaneous shopping - good therapy bad for my checkbook and my pay my bills on time ethic! Anyways just catching up made me feel human again. Like there is more to life than work... I am a Virgo and we have distinct needs to get the job done and to be the best we can be. Unfortunately this means we are moody, unhappy and just trying to keep up with ourselves. I'm not very proud of this side of my personality.
Every day I have a good day must be because I have remembered to say my morning prayers! Laugh you might, but when I forget to say my morning prayers I pay the consequences...even if it is just one thing - it'll be big! I am not a morning person but can survive getting up early and manage to have some semblance of my usual self after several hours of being awake, kick in the what do I need to get done mode and we are good to go.
Not a very healthy way to function for several months on end with lots of stress. I am just having time to think about the experiences I had in July 2004. I am a little back logged when pondering what lessons I have learned in life, just to keep a pulse on where I am going... Not that Picasso is one of my favorite artist, but he was quoted for saying it is not that children aren't artist, it is the struggle to be an artist after we have grown up... or something to that effect.
I am remembering weird thoughts like, gee I'd like to paint soon! My laundry is still piling up in the basement. Sigh. I am just trying to do something artistic everyday! That will bring about sanity. The strange thought occured to me, will i know when i am sane again? See once you have pushed yourself beyond your envelope, will you recognize what normal - for you - is? See stressed has been part of my daily existence for so long I am unsure as to when I am not stressed. Usually I can tell when I am around other, but I don't much care to be around people right now. Feeling more like checking in with myself and when I had time to be alone I was working. Now that I have time to be alone, and am, I am biting into my sleep time. Which in the long run is a bad idea... and yet just checking in, writing a thought, a moment, part of my day. Makes me feel sane.
There is this long mental check list and as I go through more and more things on the list I begin to feel freer and freer. True, it is all an illusion, but the feeling is there! And Feeling is believing these days.
Dad is going in for a minor procedure tomorrow and I have chosen to go to work. I want all to go well and I will visit him in the hospital, but I need to get my life on some kind of track or rhythm...
Only an half an hour longer than I expected to be... Honest - I'm going to bed!

Well after surviving everything my semester has dished at me, I have finally succumbed to another being on of small stature and living inside my body uninvited, a virus. I am officially sick, got it stamped and bonified certified from the authentic primary care physician. I am to do nothing. Sleep. Push my fluids. Take prescripted medicine as directed and do nothing. If anyone knows me, they no that doing nothing is not something I do well for any length of time. I did try to catch up on my lack of sleep for the last three months, but I am not sure it is physically possible to do in one weekend. I am attempting not to push and when I feel the signs I take a nap, lay down, surf the net, stare at the ceiling, wonder if my head will explode if it continues to pound. At some points I just submerge myself into my symptoms. Chills, low grade fever, diarreah, nausea, dry heaves, my eyes feel like sandpaper, my head feels like there is an axe chomping into my skull, my body feels like the Oreint Express hit me at full speed with every joint in my body aching loudly competing for the attention my brain can not fathom, and overall i just feel drunk clutsy, and in sever pain. I think that about covers it.
The only thing I do like is being able to sit and watch movies, although my parents have asserted themselves and I am staying with them at the moment therefore they make sure i eat. I am infamous for neglecting my dietary needs especially when i am sick. I guess i just want to be well enough to do a little bit more than nothing... sick, sick, sick and twisted sister! Although I couldn't handle listening to rock and roll / heavy metal at the moment... even toggling is beginning to hurt my head - oh - look at the time, soon and very soon it's medication time and that means food and magic faery dust and the headache goes away.
I think i am almost done pondering being sick, oh yeah, I got an invite to an artistic performance in my neighborhood walking distance from my house and I was so psyched at 4 am when I read it, then realized I am home sick and I am not going. That was the thing that bummed me out. I should post the event on the calendar though it will be late notice as it starts in like 2 hours.

This morning I took a TV break and watched an Charmed and ER for my daytime drama.
Death a pervasive theme in both shows. I had a good friend on my mom's pass in September. (Happy birthday!) Then another unexpected fast and close friend in October. Which is bad because that is the anniversary of my grandmothers death. Didn't really have time to grieve, but then I realized I have another issue on my plate, i try not to think about.
My father has a terminal disease that could take his life at any moment and he could also live 20 or 30 more years. He could have died a year and half ago. I won't ever be ready for it! My dad and I are very alike. I'm the miniature female version of my dad. We argue a lot! We disagree a lot. I'll never really make him proud, and i don't really know why... but I know I love him! I guess he really loves me too! I watch him have good days and bad days. I watch him slowly losing his independence and know it has got to be killing him. He's rude, obnoxious and mean which hurts but it is all because life is just a gamble right now. There are no certainties, there are no guarantees only the moment you have right now. Some of them are fun, some of them are work, some of them are contentment. Some days I get so mad at him. Then I think how would you be dealing with it? Probably different. :) Or at least I'd like to think so.
There is no advise. There is nothing but life to live. Everyday brings it's highs and lows, it's sadness and happiness. I am grateful he is still here. There are little things that if I were younger it might make more sense to be upset over. There is a little girl still inside of me that wants my daddy to give me away at my wedding. I want him to see my first child being born. I want him there for his grandchildren. I want them to know him and his feisty ways. I want him to help me buy my first house. My first brand new car. My first really great job. I want him to be there to see my accomplishments and to give him the opportunity to be proud of me.
I watched my grandfather, my dad's dad, fight cancer most of my life until his death in the early 90's. It really hit my dad. I'm not his son, but it is something I have to deal with everyday. I check on him when he sleeps, just to see if he's breathing. If he catches me he yells at me thinking I'm a freak and let him alone.
There are constant doctor visits, emergency room visits, hospital visits, pains, aches, procedures, surgeries, blood work, tests, medications and it seems like he didn't get a great deal on his retirement plan this life. He talks about the Golden Years once and a while, I find out something new. A new story from his childhood, something about my grandparents or even my great grandparents, some job i never knew he worked, some place I never knew he had traveled too, sometimes he'll talk about his service to his country - not often, but sometimes. I learn about relative and people I have never met that were in his life and that made a difference for him.
It is hard to make up for lost time. It is hard to balance the anger. It is hard to learn how to be myself around him, because he doesn't have another 50 years for me to get it right. I guess it is just really hard. To be yourself, live each day to the fullest, forgive yourself for all the things you never got to do or had time for, and just enjoy the things you do have.
My mind ventures of to the tune Cat's in the Cradle...

Christmas break has been a life saver. I have finally slowed down and have managed to do nothing for several days now! I really should go home and get something done. I've been hiding in my parents guest bedroom. It is a good place to hide. Nobody believes that I'd go there to hide. Plain sight kind of hiding.

I was thinking about the last 3 months and all of the changes it has brought to my life. I don't really think I have had time to process what I have lived. Time is really precious. I think I have taken it for granted. Busy is one thing. Simply maniacal is another.

I like change. It is good. I was reading my emails which seriously pile up over the week and a friend from out of state IM'ed me. It is exactly what I needed. That conversation really cheered me up. I feel good, but it is like i waited all day for it.

Silly me. Now that I turned my internal engine off I am having trouble getting it to start again. I think I need to go back to journaling daily with pen and paper. Get the juices flowing. There are so many things I have been putting on hold, developing ideas for projects, stories, new artwork, poems that haven't been written yet, philosophies on life, thoughts I haven't heard, dreams I have forgotten to ponder, feelings I have ignored, things that are really important to me, life lessons, staying organized, shopping, comic books to read, books to discover myself in, music to sing and dance too. I have so much waiting for me to do, things that I love doing, how did I forget to take a break!?

How does one learn to be a workaholic in a healthy lifestyle? If I practiced the answer I would be a millionaire and people would be coming to me for answers. Maybe I should just stick to asking questions. I like questions. I like learning new things. Like what do I want to be when I grow up?

I don't plan on ever growing up. I like being me. I'm not sure of this illusion of becoming a responsible adult. The grass is always greener on the other side. Here is the rest of the story: and when you get to the other side the grass is greener from whence you came. Therefore the moral of the story is all that glitters, glitters and are you smart enough to enjoy your bling bling where you are?

Enjoy each day for the gift it has been given to you, that is my current challenge.

When I was a child I was always dependable, solid, reliable and always available. I grew up to be one of the only one of my friends to always be there, same place, same time, same neighborhood, same me. I went to college to discovery myself, weird but true, I wanted to know what I was capable of. I began to crave independence like any child who has stayed too long in their parent's abode. I moved out, a story in and of itself for another time. Changes. I began to discovery exactly what I was capable of... I began to travel father from home. My friends moved out of the state. Farther and farther away I began to travel to see loved ones. Then one of my circle of friends had a different vision for me and I traveled through 13 states to get to North Dakota. Granted it was only a month, but it started to boil within me the need to get up and go. I tasted what is was like to find freedom on the wind. Nature called me to her. I craved home. Not the home that was familiar, not the home I knew, not the home I grew up in; but a different home. A home where I did not need a house, running water, heat, things to fill the spaces, but a home within myself to be at home where ever I was. I shed the materialistic part of me, learned to travel light, the hardest lesson was letting go of the idea I needed any of the materialistic things I owed, had, possessed, shared, toOK care of. All I needed was me. Some food, lots of water, a minimal amount of clothes and shelter from harsh elements. I discovered I love to camp.
I may never return to the badlands or the reservation that I had lived on for a month, which felt like an entire lifetime. Drums distantly calling me to dance, to feel, to live, to love, to hurt, to experience. It is not where I learned to pray, it is where I learned that every day was a prayer. Life is a blessing and a gift that becomes unseen once it is unwrapped. You can't hold it, you can't contain it, it is that which you can't see but you feel deep inside yourself.
I returned home. Homesick. At the time to a partner who missed me terribly and spent days making love. Happy. Free. at least it existed in that moment. Then change reared its head again and I buckled down to many jobs, moving, losing my relationship, finishing school, losing some friends, meeting new friends and going home. Thomas Wolf is right you can never go back home. My dad is sick and has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, that in and of itself was enough, but what is my role in all of this... I came home to help, share, spend time with my family. Is there anything else? Really?
Two years ago a friend asked me to take 3 weeks vacation with her and go camping. I did. More stories for another time. In the end I have realized that there is gypsy blood coursing through my veins, the same blood that lives in my dad. This blood that wants to go home, follow the wind, hear nature call and go. My dad for whatever reason left home to sail around the world. He did that younger than I am now, but times were different. My mom is the steady one. It is my dad that has the fire that boiled the blood and encouraged him to move wherever the currents took him.
For the first time in my life I have learned I can sleep just about anywhere, as long as I can clean myself once a week, eat somewhat regularly and be - it will all be ok. That is not where I came from, but then again it is what is within us all that really matters. I now understand something I read about the Australian Aborigines about the Dream time. This state we call waking is only a thought to our real lives where we are who we are and fulfill our quest. This state we call consciousness is really where we lug around only half aware of the magic and music of all things. To dream, to live, to dance and to pray and to be home in our temples.