Category Archives: Writing

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

High wind warning began last night. Local weather broadcasters were not kidding when they said it “might” interfere with sleep. Of course, the cat on the pillow did not help matters. I wish I could say I could stay home and safe, though going to work is necessary.

Even though I dread going after finding a significant error that will require some bullshitting.

Good thing there is coffee. Coffee makes the world go round some mornings. Most mornings.

Chicago. What is there to say? (What isn’t there to say?)

The weather stayed nice for me, winter coat and gloves required, but not terribly cold as I remember Midwest winters, thanks to the mild season they have had so far.

The people with whom I interacted (some of whom I already knew, some completely new to me) made me feel like I was already “home”. Home will always reside in the houses of immediate family members and be in the presence of said family, of course, though I know I have been missing a sense of my own “home” this past year.

Lots of good food and drink and neighborhood scouting. And I can never turn down a good secondhand store or a bookstore. The 3-day CTA pass got some good wear and tear on both the “L” and city buses. (What a difference from RTD with how often those buses run. Cheers to a bigger city!)

Bananagrams may be the most fantastic game since Scrabble, and less strategizing is needed, making it go quicker than the average Scrabble game.

One of these days, I need to write a post of substance outside the Rambly Fifteen, Weekly Grace, and Friday cat blogging. This is not that day. Writing prompts from the chronic illness communities have got me thinking, though. Something will bubble to the surface, I am convinced of it.

(courtesy Schmutzie‘s Grace in Small Things)

1. A week before a travel weekend that sped quite fast.
2. Champagne served in lager glasses.
3. Being surrounded by people who have only my best interest at heart.
4. Staying offline and disconnected for most of the 48 hours away.
5. Returning home to the felines who adore me.

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

Survived Valentine’s Day. Never really having been a fan, it was fairly easy to survive except for the flowers delivered to the next cubicle. Not because I was jealous or anything, but because I am allergic. (To flowers, to perfume, to anything with much of a scent.)

The cuddly felines turned out to be the best valentines all day. Surprise, surprise.

Amber Riley knocked “I Will Always Love You” out of the park last night on Glee. She met Whitney Houston last Thursday, apparently, which makes me smile in spite of the tragedy. Yes, there was a history of drug abuse; yes, WH ended up with a troubled life after a brilliant start to her career. The fact remains, she’s still loved by her family and surely they are going through hell. To have people make jokes or say that it was bound to happen, that’s just cruel to those left behind. Especially that daughter barely into adulthood.

And, yes, other less famous people died that day and the day before and the day after. I get that. However, the ten-year-old girl who watched “How Will I Know?” over and over and over on MTV and then later at seventeen watched The Bodyguard with delight, even as “I Will Always Love You” played over and over and over on MTV and the radio? They’re grieving. Much much more than when Michael Jackson died.

(I will say that I’m about done with that cover of Dolly Parton’s country hit from the 1970′s. I have possibly heard it more times in the past few days than I did in all of 1993.)

Back to exercising this week after nearly two weeks off due to the crud. Blood glucose readings are still doing well in spite of (a) the crud and (b) not exercising.

Lots going on at work, keeping busy, keeping frustrated.

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

Day #6 of this …crud. Worse than a cold, not as bad as the fun of influenza. Although, current theory is that it is indeed upper respiratory flu, mitigated by the fact I did enjoy a flu shot a few months back.

First four days were all about aches, fever, chills, fatigue, stuffiness, coughing. Last couple days have been more of recovery, still sniffly and still coughing and still way fatigued.

Luckily, alarm clock cat (Perl) has been kind enough to let me sleep all the way to the real alarm. And I have no trouble falling asleep either, not with the humidifier with its white noise fan and help with opening up those nasal passages and lungs.

What have I been doing besides those activities directly related to the crud? Watching a ton of television. Reading magazines (no patience for actual books in this state). Doing research for upcoming quick trip to Chicago. Fussing over lost sick time (and as of today, some vacation time, too). Going mad with cabin fever.

Yeah, I am the girl who got sick just as Denver started getting hit with repeated snow events and cold temperatures. There seems to be no end in immediate sight, either, and the last thing I want to do is spend too much time out in the crappy weather and not get well.

Cabin fever also entails the inability to work out. The appetite was quite low while I was feverish, so there’s that in maintaining weight. However, I hate not working out. Not that I had really established a routine, and had been really sporadic in frequency of exercising before getting the crud…but I determined a big goal mere days before the crud invaded.

I still have that goal in mind – to walk that 7k on my mom’s birthday. In 32 days. Here’s to maybe getting back to exercise by Saturday? One can hope.

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

Upon telling my mother yesterday about my plans to walk a 7k on her birthday, she replied “don’t you worry you will be cold?”. The thing is, in March, it could be anywhere from 70F and sunny to 20F and snowing.

It felt awesome to workout last night, knowing that I have this goal ahead of me. It helped that I made a couple full meals on Sunday for this week, so that I have no excuse not to exercise in that respect. Because if I don’t often feel like cooking during the week when I get home from work, add exercise as soon as I do get home, and I really don’t feel like cooking.

I want to go snowshoeing, but there is no snow down “on the flats”. Thinking about escaping to the close-in ski resort that has a nordic center one of these Saturday or Sundays.

This morning is the endocrinologist appointment I postponed twice. Already have the blood work results that were done in December when I forgot I had postponed the appointment a second time. So all that really needs to happen is a foot check, and a physical thyroid exam to make sure it’s not bulging out or anything. Oh, I’m sure we’ll discuss a statin once again, even though my cholesterol went down. Still not buying into the idea that I need one right now.

It has been almost fifteen minutes and I feel like there’s not much on my mind this morning. Maybe it’s too early for the girl whose cat (Perl) likes to be an alarm clock, especially on the days when the girl can sleep in a little.

For the past several weeks, it seemed that there was never enough time to write. Then why was there more than enough time to read?

Reading allows an escape from one’s own life to enter the lives of other people, whether based on fact or fiction.

Writing allows an explanation of one’s own life, allowing others to enter into that which may be told through essays, poetry, or autobiographical fiction.

These days, I prefer the escape into reading than the explanations writing demands. There is not much to say, at least not much to say that I want to say, that I can say.

Perhaps tomorrow, I will suddenly find a voice again. Or maybe next month. Or maybe not even until next year.

I am not worried (yet). Until it comes back, there is the possibility to escape through reading books.

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

I don’t believe in blackouts to protest the whole SOPA/PIPA mess. (Obviously, since I am writing this blog post this morning.) Ok, so I don’t even understand some of it, and frankly, I have more important things to worry about. From what I do understand, it would only try to bring down sites that are doing real harm (counterfeit prescription drug ordering sites and other scams come to mind). I’m not saying that perhaps the language could be a little more friendly and a little less damning, but I also see a purpose in consumer protection. Not to mention how often I find my blog content (both from here and from other places for which I have written) on foreign mirror sites without links back to the original pieces. I find it kind of funny that people who have complained about skimmed content are all up in arms about SOPA/PIPA. Again, I don’t claim to understand much of it.

Same goes for my plans to visit Chicago. In the middle of February. You would think the real cure for cabin fever would be going somewhere warm. I’ll save that for next winter.

Not much to say about Paula Deen’s disclosure of her type 2 diabetes. I wish she had come out about it sooner, to help others, not because she got some lucrative deal to promote a newer, expensive drug to treat the condition. Oh, and butter and other animal-based fats do not cause of type 2 diabetes, every much as sugar and like products are not, either. It is often genetics first, lifestyle factors second*. Anyways…

Let me gulp down this coffee and jump in the shower so I can get to work on time.

*EDIT due to a shower thought: Forgot about environmental factors like pollution and chemicals that may mutate genes, too. Probably should put that in front of lifestyle factors…

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

Nothing to write about, or at least, not enough time to write about what I want to write about.

Received my portion of Neppie’s ashes yesterday. Still need to write a poem about her. For now, I shall keep them in a special spot until I figure out what kind of permanent tribute I want to make to her.

New supervisor at work, and she seems awesome so far. Still struggling with other stuff going on there, though hopefully that will see some kind of resolution soon.

So, yeah, panic attacks. I’m having them again. All triggers have been identified, though it freaks me out to think how varied the causes were. Not wanting to come back to Colorado my last night visiting family, stressing about a small airport’s security the next day, losing Neppie, the work stuff (enough to make me call in sick one day last week), and then the kicker.

I read this book, the majority of it on Saturday, where one of the main characters dealt with debilitating panic attacks as a result of PTSD. I couldn’t take my mind off it, especially given the recent panic issues, and on Sunday morning, had one of my worst attacks ever. (If you deal with panic attacks, do NOT read Marian Keyes’ The Brightest Star in the Sky.)

Down to one cup of coffee each day – I wish I could do without, but right now, as I am trying desperately to sleep without popping a pill, I still need a pick-me-up in the morning. The humidifier IS helping with sleep issues (white noise? less throat/nose dryness? I don’t know).

Since I woke, it started snowing. Only light snow, but it is also quite windy. This should be a fun morning commute. Going to try to catch the earlier bus that I sometimes take.

Oh…happy birthday to my dad!

Pizza, wine, and cheesecake

Not exactly the perfect choice each week, with all those carbs and calories.

But, you see, it goes beyond the meal itself.

Far too often I feel rushed to write all I can on a small computer screen…

So the thanks goes towards the time I can write on paper.

Far too often I let myself brood alone over the day’s woes…

So the thanks goes towards a sweet reflection on the day and coming out feeling a bit more positive.

Far too often I feel lonely…

So the thanks goes towards the staff who allows me time to feel special.

What can I say?

Pizza, wine, and cheesecake.

I look forward to it each week.

Fifteen minutes straight writing…begin…right…now.

Monday night football. Or maybe not if the power keeps going out at Candlestick.

Not to say there isn’t any crying, not to say there aren’t any sad days, but I’m doing markably better than most years considering the time of year. It must be the promise of spending Christmas with family, it must be knowing that things are getting settled, it must be the plans I’m making to be closer to family sooner rather than later, it must be all the sleep I’m getting.

Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes when you’ve had months of insomnia, you suddenly get hit with the ability to sleep well in long stretches. So much so that you can barely wake up to the alarm. So much so that you go to bed before 9pm most evenings, even on weekends. This is reality for two weeks.

Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes when you’ve been less than busy at work, you suddenly get slammed with a ton of stuff to do with no end in sight. So much so that you worry just a little about being away for a few days, even though you know you need that time with family.

So much so that you are finally sleeping well (too well) after so many months of struggling.

So much so that you can’t get stuff in order in your personal life because it’s all work and sleep. So much that the only time you write is once or twice a week instead of nearly every day.

And yet, there is little feeling of being overwhelmed. A little frantic, a little frustration, but this must be what “normal” minds feel like under stress. What it feels like to be busy under stress, BUT with enough sleep and enough self-care that sheer panic and anxiety don’t happen.

Or maybe I’m just getting older, wiser, and more willing to care about the big things instead of the small stuff.