Hello once again.

So, where do I start?

I think the last time I actually blogged (there's that word again: blogged. I don't think I like it, but I must use it for lack of a better option), we were at dress rehearsal for Rent.

Rent might have been one of the most meaningful pieces of theater in which I have ever participated. I cried regularly during the performance, I mean, during the sad parts (you know, like when Angel dies. David really sold it). Which, as it were, only made the show more intense for the audience. Even though I played a real bitch, I could feel the character morph and develop every night, which was absolutely remarkable to me, considering the type of character Maureen is. Oh, the whole thing was just beautiful. And, not to mention, most of Austin saw my bare ass. Who wouldn't be proud of that? As one old lady put it: "The city of Austin is lucky that you have a cute butt."

Seasons of  Love

I've bonded deeply with a lot of people involved in the show, and now that it's over, I feel a little empty. Okay, I feel pretty empty. I like being able to use art for a purpose, and there's always a bittersweet release once that's been accomplished. Mmmmm.....I might go pester Jacob for a hug.

Oh and I forgot: we had at one point discussed raising money for a charity called BCEFA (Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS), and after our first week, I actually remembered. So, during the second weekend of the run of the show, we gave a little speech at curtain and ended raising $736.06 for sufferers of HIV/AIDS and other illnesses. I'm so proud of the theater-going community here in Austin. I have no idea what The Sound of Music could possibly contribute to charity, but maybe I'll figure it before that show opens.
I'm in that show too. Just a nun. No big thing. I think I'll spend the majority of that show missing the camaraderie I enjoyed during Rent.  Then, I'll be taking a theater break. Jacob needs it; I'm not sure if I need it, but I love my Jacob.

Also, I just spent the last weekend with what seemed like every person I've ever known. Really, it was just my family, Jacob's family, Kendra Fay, and Zach and Holly Nordby. But overall, six people were staying here at once. Oh, and David too. Plus Jacob's mom and step-dad came as well, and they brought us the full bed that Jacob's dad got us a year ago but couldn't transport. So now, David has a real bed and not an air mattress. I feel like such a good hostess now. Or, landlady would be a more appropriate term.

Our two year anniversary was on Tuesday. Unfortunately, Jacob got extremely sick that day. Extremely. Like, temperature of 102 and potential pneumonia (I think it might actually be pneumonia, but he won't admit it.) So, Thursday night, we enjoyed dinner at the Old Mill. It was really nice just to go out and be together. Whenever we spend time together, it's always in front of the TV. I hate that. I really don't want to get into that habit, so I'm hoping that with summer coming, we become more active again. We used to ride our bikes a lot. Or, at least walk...you know, back from the bar....

I'm still working on my daycare; I have an orientation class Monday night. I was at Barnes & Noble yesterday to buy Madeline a third birthday present----I got her Madeline (shocker!) and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs--- and I realized how few children's books I have. There are so many good ones; I need more books around here. Maybe that'll keep the girls occupied better when they're here. We tried to bake cookies the other day, but really, we ended up making one giant octopus cookie and pestering David about being a mermaid. But at least we listened to some good music and had some fun.

David got some movies from his house the other day, movies that I apparently need to see.  Since we end up spending most of our daytime hours together, we tend to watch movies or Dr. Who and talk about artsy things. Well, one of the movies he insisted upon was Wit, starring Emma Thompson. Emma Thompson also stars in Stranger Than Fiction, another favorite of mine. It was an absolutely brilliant movie. It present the story of an academic, a woman who devoted her life to the study of John Donne (whom I studied a bit, but not nearly to the level of the character), a 17th century poet who explores life and death in the abstract, yet is suddenly faced with stage 4 ovarian cancer, which ultimately leads to her death. The character's steely conviction is something to which I can't relate; I don't think I've nearly the strength of character to fight something of that gravity. But I'm positive that David did not expect the reaction he got from me. I wept. I sobbed. Gut-wrenching, painful sobs. Something in that movie hit something so deep and frightening within me that I couldn't help myself. I absolutely fell apart. I couldn't even describe why it was so significant and so frightening, but so many pieces of it echoed things that I have experienced or seen others experience. I felt connected to a greater experience, the experience that women encounter in terms of disease and modern medicine. All the the time. I don't even have cancer and I still have experienced many of the things that the character did. Oh, I could go on, but I think I'll tear up. I'm not nearly as verbose as some; most of my thoughts and feelings never develop into actual words, just tears. I can't seem to help myself.

I also can't seem to help myself in terms of feeling...blue. Sad. The show, which I've been devoted to since January, is over. My uterus is still empty, and I'm still suffering from the same money pit of problems. Jacob is still a little grumpy from me being gone all the time. However, as I've been hearing an awful lot of Florence and the Machine lately:

"It's always darkest before the dawn."

Our Lady of Immaculate Grammar

I'm confused by the new layout of Blogger. Have I really not blogged in that long? Am I really using "blog" as a verb?

I feel like I have so, so much to say that I don't even know where to begin.

I mean seriously.

Maybe I should just post this as a precursor to my actual entry; just a reminder to myself that I'm still blogging.

May the fourth be with you.

Up & Up

I feel like these blogs are incredibly erratic. Either manically positive or full of despair. I have a vast depth of emotion, however, I don't feel as bipolar as these blogs portray me. Most of the time, I'm pretty even keel. It's just trigger events that set me off. I tend to swing pretty rapidly if something dramatic happens. You know, like last Friday. Or, you know, losing my voice a week before performances. Or if Jacob and I try to make gravy together. Any one of these things can pitch the mighty ship of my heart to or fro in the vast sea of my emotions, so to speak. It's pretty easy to send me reeling, but I eventually end up back to where I was. I have very low mental flexibility; I have a hard time adjusting, I guess. I live with my heart fully exposed, fully vulnerable. I guess I don't know any other way. But, just like the rest of us, I move on and get over it. It's life.

Anyway, my voice is almost completely back. I knew it would be, but it still frightened me a good deal. I drank two liters of water every day. That probably helped. Jacob also had a boys weekend in Ames, IA. That probably didn't help. It meant I spent the weekend only with David, which inevitably meant that we talked too much, and my throat got pretty raw. Plus, I was pranked into thinking my house was haunted and didn't get nearly enough sleep. But, remarkably, it's back. I tried to put a humidifier in my room, and I think it helped. Also, the water. And Throat Coat tea. I drank more than was recommended by physicians. I can't help that it's tasty.
Dammit, this show is important.
Speaking of which, it's kind of awesome. Everything is coming together. I wear a whole lot of ridiculous things. And not nearly enough. So that's exciting.
Oh and I plucked David's eyebrows for this thing. That's nuts too. I mean, plucking a man's eyebrows. It's odd for two reasons. First of all, you don't expect to see the finished product. Secondly, men don't deal with pain well. I'm not sayin', but I'm just sayin'. I thought it was just Jacob that was a big baby about pain. Apparently not. But seriously, I should take a picture (although he's already taken many) and post it. I'm very proud of my eyebrow work. I've done great things to many faces in my youth.  I actually used to aspire to be a professional eyebrow...plucker...technician? Is that the term? I don't know, but I want to do that for a living sometimes...I should probably apply a numbing agent to their skin before I go that crazy on someone's face again, though. Shit got real.
Whatever. I'm a girl and I'm awesome. I mean, aside from that awesome part.

Curses

It's Friday the 13th. Yes. It makes so much sense now.

I had an incredibly traumatic morning. It didn't even start out normal. I mean, I don't have a voice at all right now, and we're opening in a week. So, enter the stress of not having a voice. Well, I decided, with my omnipotent wisdom, that I needed more medicine and more tea and, hell, I needed it now. Also, a dry erase board, so I could stop talking. I had been feeling a little more sick than usual, even nauseous, so medicine would be a good thing.
So, I get up, I shower, I get into my car, and I start driving to Walmart (being that it is the cheapest place to buy medicine and Organic Throat Coat Tea). At just under a block away, I'm hit by a painfully familiar feeling: I'm having an intestinal attack. What follows is a stream of consciousness account of my morning. I need to write it down, because I'm still kind of in shock and I have to process it.
Damn.
I shouldn't have had that wine last night. It must have had something in it that triggered this...damn.
What do I do now?
I know that I need to be home. I can't be driving anymore, or else I'm going to get into an accident. I white-knuckle it back home, but even as I'm nearing my house, I feel my mind starting to detach. This is one of the worst things that could happen; it means that I might lose consciousness. It's only happened one other time, and that was the time I had to be rushed to the ER.
Okay, so I'm terrified.
Thankfully, I make it back to my house, to my garage, and....I'm stuck. I need some pain medication fast. I foresee this turning into a really frightening episode.
Shit.
Shit.
SHIT.
Oh, God, this hurts.
I need to get into the house. I have to get that medication so that I can handle this a little better. I used to take Benadryl just so I could sleep through part of it.
Maybe I could text David? He's sleeping and has to work tonight, but surely it wouldn't take much to just run downstairs to get my pills for me?
Okay, now I just wait.
Waiting.
Ugh, I can't wait this long.
Maybe I can quickly run into the house. I mean, these episodes work like contractions; there's always a lull after a few minutes. If I time it right, I can make it inside.
Shit. I forgot that changing positions makes it worse. Maybe I can still make it to the house, though. It's just a backyard away.
Oh, hello grass. Would you like me to vomit on you now? No, I think I'll save that for later; too much energy would be expended doing that right now and I'm starting to lose my grip on reality.
Wow, the grass is really green right now.
Why can't I seem to move?
Oh, this is so incredibly painful. Ow. OW. GOOD GRIEF THIS HURTS.
Grass? Pretty grass.
Maybe I should just lay down.
If Jacob were here, I would be at the hospital right now.
Wait, was that a car driving by? Can they help?
Wait, I can't call for help. I don't have a voice.
....
...
...
...
Why am I in the grass?
...
...
...
Oh, I have a purse.
Wait! I have a phone. Maybe I could call someone.
David's in the house! I need to call him.
Shit, he didn't answer. Whatever, I'll call him again.
THANK GOD! I can barely squeeze words out, but I manage to get out the words, "Help me!"
Suddenly I hear noise and perk up. David's there. What's going to happen now? He can't possibly pick me up.
Oh good lord, he's picking me up.I hope he's not judging my underwear choice today. It's pretty heinous.
Wait, now I'm in the other garage...am I on the freezer? Yes, I'm on the freezer. Where's Da----oh, there he is. Oh, and now I'm being picked up again.
I don't think anyone has ever picked me up like this before. Well, not in my adult life anyway.
Oh, here's the couch.
Oh God, I'm going to vomit. DAVID I'M GOING TO VOMIT.
Bucket? Ah, bucket, sweet bucket.
I hate throwing up.
I am freezing. I'm still wearing my shoes and my coat, but yes, I will accept this blanket.
Yes. I would like Codeine now. Thank you.
Please don't leave me. I can't be alone. Thank you. I am so sorry that you have to be here for this.

Ok, now I'm going to sleep....


At this point, I passed out.

Ugh, I really hated this. This may have been the most awkward, horrible thing in the world to happen to me. And once again, it's horribly awkward to have to put a friend through this (particularly a friend who happens to very emotionally vulnerable right now). I wish I didn't have to put anyone through this. Or put myself through this. I really need answers.
How am I supposed to open a daycare with all those little children, if I'm going to pass out and abandon them?
How will I be able to parent?
How will I be able to do anything of value?

Once again. I am so exhausted.
And I'm still freaking out.

Meatless Easter and Its Horrors

It's horrible being a vegetarian (or pescatarian for that matter) on Easter Sunday. Ham is my favorite. There was magical ham yesterday. I almost cried. Oh, it was beautiful. Not to say that I didn't stuff my face. It's easy to fill the meatless void in my heart with other things. Mostly things with butter.
I almost cried for another reason; there are always a million babies at family gatherings. Babies make me sad. So does fielding the question: when are you guys gonna have one? Painful. Irritating. Unwelcome. I'm kind of glad this wasn't an occasion for binge drinking; I would have said too much...not that I don't already do that here.
However, I was able to use my talents as baby whisperer to lull no less than three children into napping. I'm good. I'm really good. Once they end up in my arms, I become overwhelmed by maternal instinct and sooner or later, I have them napping. And no, there is no neck-snapping involved.
I wish all of that talent wasn't going to waste right now. My future children are going to be excellent nappers. Just like me. I am a fantastic napper. Do I ever sleep well at night? Hell no. But I'm a fabulous napper. I actually reserve most Sundays for sleeping, because I just love napping that much. The other night, I "slept" 8 hours, yet at about 2PM, I sat down to watch a little tv and completely crashed for two hours. And, they were the greatest two hours of sleep that ever existed.
I should get a medal, or something.
Look, everyone a picture of a tiger!

Guess who went to the zoo last week? THIS GIRL.

Les Reves Par Nuit

The human mind is obscenely complex. It is full of connections, twists and turns, hurdling our subconscious through time and space in order for us to believe that everything is normal.

I have tremendously low self-esteem. I think that's been established. However, if there's one body part I'd like to change, it would be my brain. It doesn't work properly. Something is terribly wrong with it, and I can't seem to validate its existence.

For those of you unaware (and I know few of you are, but dammit, I get to talk about whatever I want on here), I have AD/HD, non-hyperactive type. Legitimately; I'm not attention-seeking or making excuses when I say that. It's not just an easy scapegoat for forgetting to take out the trash. Imagine yourself walking through a room, with the intent of picking up three items of clothing off the floor. But, as you're walking, other inanimate objects in the room literally start speaking to you. They start reminding you of other projects, other chores, funny stories, and they become more and more appealing, while the items of clothes start to disappear before your eyes. That's what actually having AD/HD is like. I think it's fair to say I'm in a constant state of confusion. There are literally so many thoughts buzzing through my head at all times that I think it has affected my ability to process sound. I'm serious. I over-think when people speaking. I start to fixate on what sounds their mouths are making and I begin to lose to meaning of those words. When asking me a question, the typical response is: what? Say that again? I've had my hearing tested; it's fine. It's just my brain.

Did I mention that I'm also mild synesthete? My synesthesia applies mostly to seeing and thinking about numbers and letters. Oh, and calendars. Depending on the number, letter, or date, my mind immediately replicates and visualizes it based on a very distinct color pattern. Odd numbers are warm colors, even numbers are cool, and so on. As this is occurring, generally my mind will start to wander and think about color. I also have very odd tendencies to organize things like trinkets or food based on the way color has organized them in my brain. Now, I say mild synesthete because unlike others, my synesthesia exists in my brain for the most part, and it very infrequently interferes with my other senses. Although, it has happened. I know some people think it's a tremendously wonderful affliction to have, being that science is awfully excited about it. For me, it's the things have always been and it does nothing but aggravate my already muddled brain.

Dreams are the worst. They're either so wonderful that it hurts to wake up, or they're so monstrously frightening that they imprint me for the entire day, sometimes longer. I was telling a friend the other day that I don't think I've had a dream without extreme violence (rape, murder, stabbing, etc.) in it for months, possibly over a year. As he seemed startled by this, I realized that's really not normal. That's utterly terrifying. I'm not a violent person. Why would my brain play out scenarios of brutal rapes and vicious murders every night? I mean, it's not all I dream about. Sometimes, they're worse, at least as far as emotional impact.
Our minds can be incredibly cruel. They can make us believe something wonderful has happened, and for a brief moment, we're finally at peace, knowing everything is going to work out. Then, we wake up with a hole in our heart, wounded for the rest of the day.
My cruel dreams involve me having children. My subconscious plants false memories of being pregnant and giving birth, so I truly believe I have my own kids. Sometimes, I even wake up and reach for them, only to realize they're not there. I know this happens to the rest of the world as well, but with other voids in their lives.
Which leads me to wonder what our is subconscious plotting? What part of mind is truly who we are? We use so little of our brain consciously, but was is the rest of it doing? If it contains all of that power and all of that intelligence, why can't it heal us when we're broken and hurting? And if it can, how do we access it?


Here, I spent the whole morning blogging about my brain, and I've distracted myself from doing any actual work. My brain sucks. When is the part where I become a zombie?

Oh, bugger...

I am so tired.

Rent is really exhausting. Emotionally, physically, spiritually...all of those things.

I think we've hit a snag.

I miss my Jacob. He misses me. This is the part when things get complicated between us. It's more than Rent or our roommate or his business trips or golfing or whatever is keeping us apart. It's the fact that we're apart at all. It's also a sense of complacency into which we've fallen. We need to change our way of doing things and talking to each other.

It's difficult now, but in a few weeks, we'll mend. We'll be okay. Besides, it's hard to recognize how precious the beautiful times are without the contrast of ugly.