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Chuck Berry sing to us one more time
I went running this morning, the second time this week, I've been going about twice a week in the past two weeks. I'd like to get up to three times a week, but hey, I'll take two. It's two more than zero, which I was doing before. I've taken SAMe every morning since February 22nd, which means its been about a month. I swallow 400 mg every morning, and sometimes on an afternoon when going to work seems hard, I take another 200 mg. Today, I took the extra 200 mg in the mid-morning. I'm doing a lot, I'm doing better, but sometimes I catch myself in the lie -- that even though I tell myself it's about managing and coping, parts of me still think its about curing. So I get down on myself when its still there. I know lots of things, that is different from feeling them, believing them.
There's a difference though, which is that I'm actually feeling separate emotions, not just a grey white-noise of numbness over all things. I am sometimes gentle with myself. I'll keep at it.
Last night I started to really put together all the organizational bits and pieces of the writer's retreat packet and I'm so jazzed about this, I can hardly contain myself. I want to send out the packet RIGHT NOW, but I'm still waiting on parts from other people. Including, um, myself. I did write up my seminar description, but I want to revise parts of the story I'm sending in too. So. Excited. I get all buzzy and jumpy and tingly. Writing about it makes me think about it and I'm feeling it again.
Yesterday while doing work up in Evanston, I stopped by the inferior branch of Binny's (it's smaller and mostly seems to deal in hard liquors), which was perfect for being inferior because the random wine with which I am in love (and also is currently on sale) was fully stocked and I bought two more bottles, one to share at the writing retreat. I wrote about it already, the Dehesa Gago 2005. The other week, I also bought the Dehesa Gago 2003 and a white wine, Baso, also by my new winemaker boyfriend, Telmo Rodriguez. I was ready to live in sin with him and birth all his babies, all based on his skills alone, but then I googled him and check it out:
He would be easy to love.
I just realized my brunch tomorrow is a birthday brunch, so I should go get a card and maybe a gift. It's friday, so I'm wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt that says "Don't Get Caulky". And there's a picture of a caulking gun.
There's a difference though, which is that I'm actually feeling separate emotions, not just a grey white-noise of numbness over all things. I am sometimes gentle with myself. I'll keep at it.
Last night I started to really put together all the organizational bits and pieces of the writer's retreat packet and I'm so jazzed about this, I can hardly contain myself. I want to send out the packet RIGHT NOW, but I'm still waiting on parts from other people. Including, um, myself. I did write up my seminar description, but I want to revise parts of the story I'm sending in too. So. Excited. I get all buzzy and jumpy and tingly. Writing about it makes me think about it and I'm feeling it again.
Yesterday while doing work up in Evanston, I stopped by the inferior branch of Binny's (it's smaller and mostly seems to deal in hard liquors), which was perfect for being inferior because the random wine with which I am in love (and also is currently on sale) was fully stocked and I bought two more bottles, one to share at the writing retreat. I wrote about it already, the Dehesa Gago 2005. The other week, I also bought the Dehesa Gago 2003 and a white wine, Baso, also by my new winemaker boyfriend, Telmo Rodriguez. I was ready to live in sin with him and birth all his babies, all based on his skills alone, but then I googled him and check it out:
He would be easy to love.
I just realized my brunch tomorrow is a birthday brunch, so I should go get a card and maybe a gift. It's friday, so I'm wearing jeans and a tight t-shirt that says "Don't Get Caulky". And there's a picture of a caulking gun.