... ridiculously entertained/amused at parents yelling at child.
Don't do that!
Don't touch that!
What did I say?!
Angel stop that!
Angel I said don't touch that!
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Restless
Delight me with poetry
Tickle my fancy with some words
Sing of glory
Wail of death
Fling yourself into revels and reels and jigs and japes
Jumble your limbs in fury and furious gestures and exclamations of the unsayable
Paint me something glorious
Write me a song
I yearn
All bundled and blanketed in bed
with jittery legs
invisible twitching
Empty grasping hands
Thwarted muscles that want to run
With long darkness of hair that I don't possess
streaming in comet wake behind
Across twilight fields of flower studded grass
Whipping legs exposed by raised skirts clutched in fists
stretch strides
Ground eating
Flying
Skimming
Soaring
twirling and spinning
Skirts wrapping around and spreading and bursting burning into fiery colour
Red sky at night
Sailors delight
At least someones happy.
Tickle my fancy with some words
Sing of glory
Wail of death
Fling yourself into revels and reels and jigs and japes
Jumble your limbs in fury and furious gestures and exclamations of the unsayable
Paint me something glorious
Write me a song
I yearn
All bundled and blanketed in bed
with jittery legs
invisible twitching
Empty grasping hands
Thwarted muscles that want to run
With long darkness of hair that I don't possess
streaming in comet wake behind
Across twilight fields of flower studded grass
Whipping legs exposed by raised skirts clutched in fists
stretch strides
Ground eating
Flying
Skimming
Soaring
twirling and spinning
Skirts wrapping around and spreading and bursting burning into fiery colour
Red sky at night
Sailors delight
At least someones happy.
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Butterflies flitting hither and thither...
... I get so wound up and anxious before my specialist appointments.
My brain seems to escape my control at the least provocation.
It's a very important five or ten minutes that are not repeated for three months. I am so cross with myself cause I nearly always end up crying, which is my number one stress response.
Today I nearly held it together.
The actual specialist came out this time, and checked it was okay she had a student with her. I am fine with students. Actually pleased and happy if I can contribute. Which in this instance I think I did. There was quite a bit of show and tell happening. Which is good because I get told things I probably wouldn't be told under normal circumstances.
The specialist looked at my hands and asked me how I was working.
It wasn't a rhetorical question.
She actually wanted an answer.
She grilled me a bit on what I was actually doing.
She asked me if I was able to dress myself, and bathe, and wipe my bottom.
I nearly broke down then and there.
They were good questions.
I can wipe my own bottom and shower and dress myself, but sometimes it feels like a close thing, and I am overly self conscious about whether I am pulling my weight at work and if people think I am bludging, cause I don't think I necessarily think I look disabled.
My gulity conscience probably plays its hand here, as since moving is troublesome, my preference to drape myself over something soft and comfortable with a book tends to take dominant position.
Even when moving is not troublesome, my preference is to drape myself over something soft and comfortable and read a book.
Bah!
I have my script for methotrexate and a plan to try it again and if still to unwieldy, a plan for an alternative.
I have the rest of the week off and have dug large holes in the front yard and half refilled the problem areas.
I am starting on the house.
Have stabbed a couple of the problem areas and if I manage to conquer the next two sticking points, I expect the rest to flow like joyful bubbling spring water, washing away the weighty weighing woeful black tide of stultifying emotion that has kept me from basic cleanliness.
I might even get around to washing some of the walls that I've wanted too for a while.
...
Or I may read the third volume of Stephen Frys autobiography which I picked up for five dollars at the opshop, when i popped into the city centre on an errand for my eldest sister yesterday.
It was a bargin.
My brain seems to escape my control at the least provocation.
It's a very important five or ten minutes that are not repeated for three months. I am so cross with myself cause I nearly always end up crying, which is my number one stress response.
Today I nearly held it together.
The actual specialist came out this time, and checked it was okay she had a student with her. I am fine with students. Actually pleased and happy if I can contribute. Which in this instance I think I did. There was quite a bit of show and tell happening. Which is good because I get told things I probably wouldn't be told under normal circumstances.
The specialist looked at my hands and asked me how I was working.
It wasn't a rhetorical question.
She actually wanted an answer.
She grilled me a bit on what I was actually doing.
She asked me if I was able to dress myself, and bathe, and wipe my bottom.
I nearly broke down then and there.
They were good questions.
I can wipe my own bottom and shower and dress myself, but sometimes it feels like a close thing, and I am overly self conscious about whether I am pulling my weight at work and if people think I am bludging, cause I don't think I necessarily think I look disabled.
My gulity conscience probably plays its hand here, as since moving is troublesome, my preference to drape myself over something soft and comfortable with a book tends to take dominant position.
Even when moving is not troublesome, my preference is to drape myself over something soft and comfortable and read a book.
Bah!
I have my script for methotrexate and a plan to try it again and if still to unwieldy, a plan for an alternative.
I have the rest of the week off and have dug large holes in the front yard and half refilled the problem areas.
I am starting on the house.
Have stabbed a couple of the problem areas and if I manage to conquer the next two sticking points, I expect the rest to flow like joyful bubbling spring water, washing away the weighty weighing woeful black tide of stultifying emotion that has kept me from basic cleanliness.
I might even get around to washing some of the walls that I've wanted too for a while.
...
Or I may read the third volume of Stephen Frys autobiography which I picked up for five dollars at the opshop, when i popped into the city centre on an errand for my eldest sister yesterday.
It was a bargin.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
Tomorrow ...
... begins my week off work.
I will start by running an errand for my eldest sister .
The next my specialist appointment.
I've bought dried mealy worms to feed the ducks in the park after my specialist appointment,to mitigate the effects as i expect it to upset me.
I have formulated plans to go a day without antinflammatories, so I can reimpress on my brain how much difference they make.
And I plan to do house and yard work.
Preliminary investigations from some of the holes in my yard are reveilling shockingly large holes under the driveway etc.
Which is making me even more concerned about the awesomely huge hole wot opened up on the other side of the yard that they have chucked besser blocks into instead of soil, which i think is a mistake as it just allows more water to go in to make the hole bigger.
I think it could cross the line from erosion to perhaps potential sink hole.
I don't want my rental house to sink into a hole.
I'm fond of it.
I will start by running an errand for my eldest sister .
The next my specialist appointment.
I've bought dried mealy worms to feed the ducks in the park after my specialist appointment,to mitigate the effects as i expect it to upset me.
I have formulated plans to go a day without antinflammatories, so I can reimpress on my brain how much difference they make.
And I plan to do house and yard work.
Preliminary investigations from some of the holes in my yard are reveilling shockingly large holes under the driveway etc.
Which is making me even more concerned about the awesomely huge hole wot opened up on the other side of the yard that they have chucked besser blocks into instead of soil, which i think is a mistake as it just allows more water to go in to make the hole bigger.
I think it could cross the line from erosion to perhaps potential sink hole.
I don't want my rental house to sink into a hole.
I'm fond of it.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
How great!
My Aunty Margaret took this rather fabulous photo on her latest roadtrip.
I wish I had half so much talent as she has in her little finger.
She is an awesome painter, and has tried her hand as at a variety of mediums.
This one soothes my soul on a troubled day.
... but would sooth my soul anyway.
It is just perfect to me.
I wish I had half so much talent as she has in her little finger.
She is an awesome painter, and has tried her hand as at a variety of mediums.
This one soothes my soul on a troubled day.
... but would sooth my soul anyway.
It is just perfect to me.
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