Tired of a lot of things. But mostly myself.

I’m so very tired of being such a spaz. I’m always knocking things off other things, or dropping them, or bumping into things, or other klassic klutz moves.

I’m tired of the pain and I am tired of the damage and I am tired of the mess but I am mostly just tired of the humiliation.

To keep fucking up like that despite how hard I try to get things right is depressing, disappointing, and dispiriting.

Clearly this is something beyond my control, seeing as I have had this problem for my entire life and I am fucking 50. Those motor deficiencies I was diagnosed with when I was young were never successfully corrected, and I 40+ years later, I am still stuck with them making life harder for me every day.

No wonder I am so reluctant to engage with reality. It doesn’t go well for me.

Leave me in my world of the mind, where I am nimble and agile and strong. Where I can act with great power and precision and hold to a very high standard of performance. far beyond what the average person can do.

But leave me out of the everyday actions of the here and now.

That’s one of the things I actually liked about being in the hospital around a year ago. Everything just came to me. Meals, help getting around when I needed it, medications, people I could talk to for a bit as they took my blood or whatever.

It’s an oral retentive dream come true, really. All the comforts of infancy.

Anyhow,. besides being tired of dealing with my own bullshit, I am just plain tired. When I woke up from a nap at around midnight last night, I could feel this blanket of malaise hanging on to me, and it hasn’t let up since.

So I figure I must be fighting off some kind of infection. That’s usually what this kind of feeling means. My nose has also been running a bit and I feel a touch feverish.

But then again, it IS mid-July, so that could just be the heat.

Regardless, I am going to do my best to keep up with my hydration needs and I am going to try to grab whatever genuine nutrition I can get my hands on to give my immune system everything it needs to win the war on whatever bug I got.

Speaking of hydration, I am pondering buying a water cooler.

And by that, I mean the kind that actually cools the water, not those fake “water coolers” that are just fancy stands for those big bottles of water.

Fuck that. I have all the room temperature water I want, thanks. If this thing is to justify its existence, it has to get me COLD water.

Or maybe I could get an ice maker instead. Or try and fix the mini fridge that has been gathering dust in my bedroom for many years now.

Or say fuck it all, and get an air conditioner for this room.

That would be, in a certain brutal sense, the most elegant solution.

Demand for cold water to drink would go way down if it wasn’t so fucking HOT.

More after the break.

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Return of the fox

When last we met in these hallowed pages, I had finally broken down and admitted the scared little animal in my head was a fox.

I avoided that for a long time, I think because adding a fox to anything raises the emotional stakes enormoulsly and I was already dealing with the very pith and marrow of my being so why turn the volume up any further?

But now I am ready for that level of emotional intensity. In fact, I think in this case, the strong emotional impact foxed have on me can be a very useful tool in getting past my usual defenses and maybe get closer to the heart of the matter.

It might even help me with my tendency to pretentiously intellectualize.

So I admit it. That scared little animal that has been living like a fugitive in my head ever since I was raped as a child is most definitely a fox.

He’s not Fruvous. Fruvous is another version of me, one free of all accidents of birth and circumstance so he can be free to express his (my) flamboyantly fluffy nature.

But I will note, in passing, that the backstory for Fruvous that has been in my head ever since I invented him waaaaaaaaaay back in the early 90’s involves him being on the run from galactic law enforcement most of the time.

Makes ya wonder, dunnit?

But no, this inner fox is not Fruvous. Not yet anyhow. I am leaving the door open for integrating more of my life story into Fruvous but for now I prefer to leave him as his happy waggy fluffy foxy self, without my heavy burdens.

That way I can still use him to escape.

No, this little fox in me is another fox entirely. He… well he’s this fox.

That was not easy for me to reveal. For obvious reasons, that part of the song also has a strong emotional effect on me.

But you know what? That’s a good thing. If there is a way out of this maze of mine, it will only be found by feeling things.

So anything I can use to penetrate the wreath of ice around my heart is a good thing. It connects me with my real emotional core and wakes it up from its cold slumber to remind me that I am alive, dammit, and that there is a real person with feelings and instincts and needs under all that intellectual bullshit, someone who is as vulnerable and needy and in need of love as anyone else.

Looks like I am human after all.

And it took a fox to show me that.

Figures, doesn’t it?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.