And today is one of them.
Started feeling really dragged out and tired last night, Uh oh, I thought. Then I started getting the chills, triggered by, but not entirely due to, the cold. At one point, the chills dug so deep into my poor body that I was not just shivering, I was shaking like Katherine Hepburn in On Golden Pond.
This did not bode well.
Sure enough, I woke up this morning feeling utterly wretched. So I had to cancel Wound Care. I will change my one remaining bandage myself.
That’s right, I haven’t shared that yet. A week ago, the nurse took a look at the wound on my right foot and decided it was sufficiently closed that I didn’t need a bandage on it any more, so I have only had one bandage to deal with for a week now.
Hooray! Now to get the other, more severe one on my left foot to heal.
Which probably means keeping my ortho shoes on way, way more. The point of the shoes is to offload my weight off my wounds so they can heal, and that means that technically I should be wearing those things any time I walk, even if I am just walking to the god damn toilet.
Because, you see, according to Nikki, the reason these wounds could not heal is because every time I walked, the pressure ripped them open.
Yikes. That’s bad.
And yet, having those big clodhoppers on is a pain because of the way they have collapsed on me. They are not comfortable to wear any more and I am still waiting to hear back from Nikki about that problem.
I get the feeling she doesn’t check her email much. Grr. I don’t want to have to call the office, Phone calls are much rougher on my social anxiety than email.
Then again, I am getting really fuckin’ sick of being chained up and hemmed in by fear. It’s no way to live, and I want to live god damn it, not just survive.
Yay, here come the chills again. But I type valiantly on nevertheless.
I can crawl back into bed and bury myself under the blanket when I am done,.
Haven’t ordered a space heater yet. I will probably end up with the fancy one. It’s more expensive than the Amazon Basics one but it’s highly rated and has both a built in fan and a sort of spout to aim the hot air where you want it to go.
Plus it looks nice.
Right now, being me is kind of a slog. I feel tired and cold. Making the words come out feels like hauling bricks and it’s hard to stay focused on the task. My mind does not want to sit still and write.
Writing is, after all, a strange job. Some strange person sits there perfectly still except for their fingers and types away and/or sits there staring into the middle distance looking to all the world like they’re in a daze or stupor before typing some more.
The real work of it all is 90 percent internal, which is why, I suppose, writers tend to be deeply introverted people.
Who else would be willing to do that? Extroverts need too much stimulation.
When I am writing fiction (which I should do more), I sometimes imagine my mind as being a chaotic and bustling factory floor with robot arms moving things around, sparks flying as things are welded to other things, conveyor belts bringing parts, and so on.
It’s an imagine that I find quiet soothing because it gives me the feeling that all the sturm und drang in my head has some kind of purpose.
Of course, if I just decided it was time I wrote a book already, that stuff would have a purpose and it could keep me occupied for quite a while.
But what book would I write?
Whatever would be the most fun to write, I suppose.
I will think about it.
More after the break.
This makes me so happy
I need more music videos to feature cartoon bunnies rocking the fuck out.
Wee freaking ha!
If I did write entirely for the fun of it, my shit would get REAL wacky.
Like, Douglas Adams wacky.
The image in my mind is a cartoon minecart rocketing through tunnels barely staying on the tracks as it takes turns on two wheels and me inside it cackling like a lunatic.
Me cackling like a lunatic seems to be on my mind lately. I guess because the world is getting so damned crazy that my inner lunacy is rising in order to compensate.
It’s like air pressure in that way. Inside pressure has to match outside lunacy.
Recently in a YouTube comment, I let something slip that I never thought I would ever say to anyone.
But I admitted that I go from my usual “love the world” mood-scape to my long suppressed “cackling demonic trickster dancing with joy as he watches the world burn” side with distressing regularity lately.
I’m pretty sure that side of me could never actually take over unless something TRULY horrible happened to me but I still don’t like seeing or feeling it.
I can so easily imagine this figure looking down on a burning city and screaming, “That’s it! Go for it, you dumb motherfuckers! Die in droves! Shit in your own nests! Vote for the ‘we will definitely slit your throat’ party! DO IIIIIIT! ”
Hopefully by writing that down I will ease some of the pressure in my head.
I mean, that’s how evil tricksters like the Joker happen. They are, in the worst possible way, smart people reacting to a stupid world by going insane to the point of complete misanthropy and thus evil.
And the problem of being smarter than most and therefore completely capable of seeing how stupid and misguided so many people are is one that all of us smart types have to deal with on a day to day basis.
For me, the solution is to ground everything in the purely emotional foundation of my deep and determined humanism. I care about people. even if they sometimes seem like children to me, and being smarter than the herd simply makes me a potential shepherd.
And don’t talk shit to me about how they “should” follow you because you’re so god damned special and smart.
Fuck that. That’s the moral nihilism of the spoiled and weak.
You do whatever it takes to lead them the right way. Or at least to do your best to do so.
I mean, do you really care, or don’t you?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.