WARNING: Forecasted graphic complaining, bitching and moaning with possible SHOUTING, swears and profanity.
In case you've wondered why I've not been writing much of late, there are some reasons. Firstly though thanks to those who have inquired through various channels. Meeta - staunch, loving, perseverant and awesome though she is - is not a fair channel to pour forth the bilious rot I seemingly need to expunge in a wordy way to regain my equilibrium, so I'll just park it here, if you don't mind. Good thing you can choose to not read it, yes?
Okay, the reasons.
Mainly it comes down to mood, as with all things in life, and everything else is just detail - a symptom, if you will. I'll try and explore how this whole banana came to pass.
A number of new things have popped up for me. I've started taking 'tissue salts', homoeopathic preparations in the fashion of Dr Schuessler, on the recommendation of my Bowen Technique person. Apparently I'm so medically 'interesting' that the local tissue salt expert person wanted to work with me for free, in consultation with the big guru of the modality Over East (as we say here). OK, all good, what's to lose. I have a decent understanding of how homoeopathic stuff works and have seen - yet not personally experienced myself - some great things. But I have this enormous resistance. This is a problem for me as I cannot find a way to clean it away, yet do not trust that this resistance is a guiding Insight rather than just some hideous mental memory-noise there from self-sabotages learned in the past. It is seriously giving me the shits.
The other really shit parts of it are that my life is already run too much by clockwork to work around my less-than-ideal digestive system. I have to coddle it along with 5 feeds a day, three of which have their own medicinal supplementation rigmarole, to get enough nutrition and caloric value in to me to maintain weight. If I miss my timing by half an hour or so then I'm getting all shaky and hungry, but if I feed too early I get all backed up and refluxy. So now, I have 2 tissue salts that I have to dissolve, separately, and hold under my tongue, separately, 5 times a day before each feed, 3 more to do the same with 3 times a day and another after three feeds each day. I can't just do it like normal folks either (dissolve under tongue then swallow) because of my freaking specialness, no, I have to dissolve each one in a little plastic cup, tip into mouth, remember not to breath it in, hold there, spit out, repeat....aaach. I'm spending frigging hours on this crap, and always seem to be dicking about with water, containers, medicines, washing stuff, storing stuff....and there's fuck-all time left in between to do anything meaningfully large.
Because everything else takes an enormous amount of time to do compared with more ordinarily-embodied humans.
See, this is what happens when you tip over the camel-back-straw edge; all the other stuff you were nicely enough adapted to and dealing with gets all big and in your face with its comparative shittiness too. It's been the case for years now that I can barely dress myself, but that's been OK, I just have tricky ways and means and take my time with it. But now I'm feeling like C-3PO trying to zip into a fitted-bodice ballgown just changing my trousers to do something in the garden.
And to date, there is no change at all with the tissue salts. I am getting no sense of 'rightness' or confidence in the whole shebang, and as I intimated, I just can't tell if I'm getting in my own way or hearing true wisdom on this one. And to make this extra-funny, the last few days I've been inspired on various fora and other online places to suggest to others that "they know the answer to their question, and knew it the moment it was raised" and they've all responded with affirmation and closure. Pfft. The noise in here is so bad I even had tinnitus for a few minutes the other day.
But I have to admit, there's a big loud chunky part of me that has not wanted it to be any other way. So, you know, like, sorry everyone.
Then I joined up on Twitter. Yes, I know I said I would never, but I also said never say never say never. Long story but it boils down to seeking some newness in my life, in combination with reality-checking this part of the zeitgeist. I discovered some good stuff, true, like micro-poetry and entertaining things.......but it really just isn't me. To properly engage and get the benefit of a discerning, rewarding twit-stream you really have to devote a lot of time and tweeting to a) searching out those sorts of tweeps you want to invite into your reading space - and deleting out those you don't - but the real rub is b) to feel like you are engaging with anyone at all and not feel like you're just a voice howling in the darkness hoping someone else is there you actually have to tweet away blindly, promoting yourself in effect, and almost sycophantically retweeting others' stuff and replying to their tweets in the hope that they may notice you, follow you, and you can have a conversation. It really sucks if you aren't the sort of person who sees social intercourse as necessarily competitive. Because Twitter, unless treated solely as an instant-news, read-only source, very much is.
So that made me rather two-dimensionally focussed for a few days and coincided with my mood crashing properly. To be fair, I did rediscover my joy in making something very succinct (unlike this post), and I shall carry that with me moving forward.
Oh, yes, the election. I know I said I'd given up, and would do my best to watch as if it was just a passing parade, but I have not been able to sufficiently turn away, as whatever the outcome is, it will be a significant turning point for us in Oz.
Look, hang on will you, for a little while? I have to go and do the tissue salt/feed thing now. Sorry. Fuck.
(thumps off to kitchen)
Back now. Sorry.
Right, the election. Here's the thing. I'm having a pretty hard time forgiving myself for creating a world in which this travesty is taking place. This is the greatest dumbing-down show I have ever witnessed in this country, and it's coming close to out-dumbing Sarah Palin's campaign last time round in the states. At least you could laugh at her. When I see some 'ordinary voter's' face on TV mouthing off about how "the boat people issue is a big one for me....you know, we should be looking after our own first, and they should be made to come here legally....you have to have law and order....they're swamping us and taking Australian's jobs" or some such arrant nonsense bereft of all fact, relevance or perspective I just want to do some punching. It's not like the facts aren't there, available, for all to see, on all the issues, but the bumper-sticker meme, lowest-common-denominator, marginal-seat swinging-voter mentality, fully bought into by most of the mainstream media in their Stockholm Syndrome thrall to the story are seemingly carrying the day if the polls can be believed at all. But I shall post on all this anon. Suffice to say I'm disappointed, annoyed, and frustrated. Last night I found myself quietly wishing for Tony Abbot to effectively win in a hung parliament with Bob Katter holding the balance of power and the Greens able to control the senate from next July. Because that's exactly what all the dipshit sleepers and wilfully ignorant affluenza-infected mortgage slaves and ideologically vacant opinion mouthers desperate to belong to some camp or other deserve for a government.
But I don't. And yet thus have I created my reality also.
WHERE THE FUCK HAVE I PUT MY ROSE COLOURED GLASSES!?!?!!!
I just can't seem to sustain the philosophical and spiritual equanimity the situation truly requires right now.
As well as all this, I've noticed a few little deteriorations body-wise. Mainly in my hands, which is deeply disturbing for my sense of the future. Typing, you see, is a mainstay of my communication abilities (communicability?). The talking thing is more extreme, which is OK, except when it isn't. By this I mean when I can talk, it's actually slightly improved on where my average was a few months back (yay!) but when I can't, I really can't, and the switch gets thrown BAM just like that. So I never know what's going to come out of my mouth - or not.
When you've got these sorts of moods on, everything else tends to turn shitwards too, doesn't it? I see myself setting myself up for future shitfalls, and carry on anyway. For example the other day we needed to move our 'second' car which hardly ever gets used now (waiting the right moment to sell her) and amazingly it started, the battery was not flat. I knew the thing to do would be to take her for a run to charge things up but I thought "no, she started now, chance are she will again, and I'm already feeling burdened enough by shoulds, so I'll just 'relax' about that and let it go" and even as I had the thought, the background voice is going "you're bullshitting yourself......you know what'll happen...."
Today I thought it would be good to sort the car parking out, and take Shazza (that's the second car) downtown to do the chores I couldn't do on the first trip because of the genius sales person standing in for an engineer who designed our printer so that when any of the colour cartridges runs out you can't print anything (like even just with the 'black ink only' function) without changing the empty cartridge, and who then made it so that when the print heads need cleaning you have to run a nozzle check first which can't happen if any of the cartridges are too low (yet not empty) requiring those to be changed as well.......and naturally the battery was - and remains to this moment - flat. With the car parked really inconveniently. And the battery secured properly (because I'm Mr Frigging Safety Trousers like that), which means ages with spanners and dicking around with my stupid hands to get it out and charge it because even if we did have jumper leads there's no way in hell they'd reach where she's parked and we have no outdoor power point (genius design strikes again!) and it's simply not feasible to run a cord all the way out to the car. Sigh.
Took the other car, did the chore, also went to drop in to the big toy store because I wanted some pop sticks (we call them "Paddle Pop sticks" in Oz) to use as seedling markers. Couldn't see any anywhere. But I did see this awesome rhinoceros.
I love rhinos. We have all sorts of animal totems about the place, with maybe 20 or 30 images and sculptures of birds alone, horses, elephants, cows....and the odd rhino. But this little plastic Schleich guy just had this look that said "you need me on your desk. Rhino energy and a massively ranting, unselfconscious blog post will sort you out" so I picked him up. Soul Patch Dufus guy sidled up to the counter in a 20-ish friendly way and asked if he could help so I asked:
"Do you have any Paddle Pop sticks?"
"Um, 'do we have scissors'?"
"No, Paddle. Pop. Sticks" making a completely unambiguous (or not) hand gesture for 'paddle pop sticks'.
"Um..." Soul Patch reverse direction sideways and reaches below the counter, hand hesitating, fingering the scissors....glances up at resigned, slightly embarrassed me....hesitates some more....and retrieves a pad and pen (oh great! Now I get to try WRITING!), and smilingly, tryingly, wanting-to-pleasingly proffers it. I hold a pen like a kindergartener who refuses instruction these days. If I could stick my tongue out the corner of my mouth I'd do that too. I manage a legible-enough PADDLE POP STICKS.
"Paddle Pop Sticks?" he queries, just to make sure.
"Mm."
And eventually we got there. I now have 1000 of the suckers. It was the smallest bag. Hidden on the floor beneath a shelf unit. Soul Patch felt really pleased with himself (I could tell) for so assuredly, sensitively, non-fussedly and effciently navigating the disability issue. He's having a good day.
The rhino was right. It is a female, I see (Schleich are very correct like that). Perhaps I shall name her. Suggestions?
I feel betterer now. Thank you for bearing witness, and for whatever cleaning you are willing and able to do. I hope you enjoyed it a bit.
Normal transmission will be resumed shortly.
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