Where is my mind?

We all get cabin fever sometimes.

anxiety = insomnia = sleepytime tea + honey = too much honey = still awake, not even a yawn = biting my nails = all bitten = twiddling my thumbs = all twiddled = taking a walk = walked farther than expected = taking a drive = drove until my gas light came on = no cash/card to fill up tank = went back home = still. wide. the. fuck. awake.

anxiety, you win.

That's it.
From what I gather, there aren't any treatments for end stage metastatic breast cancer.

Though despite her two week to two month prognosis, she's getting an eye surgery tomorrow night, so she 'can see which pearly gates I'm walking through - I don't want to go through the wrong ones.' She's stubborn and lovely, through and through.

She said, to everyone's surprise, that she already knew this, she just wanted the doctor to tell everyone else. Perhaps the body, or soul, or what have you, really does feel when it's time to let go.

What happens now, to a family tied together by loose threads and once a year phone calls? Our last bit of glue, on her way out. What I wouldn't give to just hold on to her, go back to when I was five, holding out my purple cast and standing under her arm, telling her that I really wanted a green cast, and one day she might be able to fit under my arm, I'll be so tall.

And oh, my grandfather. He's never needed more love.

It was the best of times.
It was the worst of times.
It was the age of wisdom.
It was the age of foolishness.
It was the epoch of belief.
It was the epoch of incredulity.
It was the season of Light.
It was the season of Darkness.
It was the spring of hope.
It was the winter of despair.
-- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

e.e. cummings

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
T.S. Eliot

Often I find myself falling into patterns, without realizing.

Starting the car, putting it in reverse, then drive, hitting the road, adjusting the stereo, fidgeting to find a comfortable position, sunglasses on.

Spent the day in my actual hometown yesterday. Funny to think I have a hometown. I've spent so much time packing and unpacking and repacking just to do it over again that I forget, at one point, I was stable. Or, I was a baby, but my parents were stable.

Drove by a house I lived in for a year, then another house I lived in for four years, took a drive by Kripalu, went to Route 7, drove to Pittsfield, took a right onto Holmes, went into automatic mode and just drove. Found myself at Starbucks, shut off the car, got a tea, went back outside. The prices have gone up. They not only charge for the hot water and tea bag, but for the cup, the hard labor, the lid, their time, their children's college education. Took a sip, burned my lip.

Relaxed at Jackie's after being tailgated the. entire. way. to. her. house. Walked down North Street, took a shortcut through a building, made funny faces in a window display, was introduced to the Beacon Cinema, went up an escalator of doom, so steep and narrow and tall that she closed her eyes until I remembered to tell her to open them, it was over, might want to step off now. Sat in red crushed velvet chairs, watched a movie, gave in and got a popcorn, walked around the deserted upper level of the theater, got a little creeped out by the lack of people and lights and overall decor, so I went back in to pretend to be surprised by a movie I had already watched.

Left. Felt bowled over by nostalgia and found myself smiling out the window at a town that only recently I had resented with every ounce of my being. Gave up the resentment, let it go, it flew out the window with the smoke stacks that resemble clouds and cause the Starbucks parking lot to smell like a garbage dump in the early morning hours of the warm Berkshire summers.

Started my car, put it in reverse, then drive, hit the road, adjusted the stereo, fidgeted to find a comfortable position, left town.

It's good to be home.

Today ... is not my best day. I've made it from one end of the house, to the kitchen, then to the other end. Bouncing from a bed to a couch, to a chair, to another couch. I've got a trail of pillows and blankets following me around, and a little pup who's wondering why her couch is occupied, and why she hasn't been fed..

I don't always mind days like this, though. I push myself a bit too hard at times, and sometimes it takes my body shutting down for me to remember to take it easy, that my lungs are the most important thing to take care of, and that everything I want to do can wait until tomorrow, or the next day. Life will happen in time, and I've got to learn to be patient.

Now to sip on my warm cup of vanilla ginger chai, and watch old Tom Hanks romantic comedies. What a perfect, albeit lazy, winter evening.