I got all my chores done early this weekend. I canceled the Twilight marathon because I don’t have any shields when I watch movies, and it’s super emo. I can’t go there right now, but perhaps soon. I’m too hyper to sit still for long, anyway. I watched Stevie Nicks Live in Chicago, for a bit instead. It’s awesome. (Nobody is screaming, fainting, or rushing the stage.) It’s a pretty big crowd, but not rabid. I like the band, too. The lead guitarist, especially. There are three women singing back-up, but they do it like Fleetwood Mac. It’s not a lead singer with a few voices in the background rounding out the sound. It’s multiple voices becoming one by blending together beautifully. It gives me chills when people can pull it off this well.
In a way, watching it on DVD is better because it’s seamless and well recorded in Dolby 5.1. She did a duet with Vanessa Carlton, who also played the piano. It. Was. So. Good. I held still for the whole song, barely breathing. That good. I’m starting to hope I get to see Stevie Nicks perform live someday. I know she’s not done writing music. She’s probably working on a song right now. I know because she’s alive. I’m familiar with The Muse; We’ve hung out. I’m pretty sure The Muse has Stevie Nicks on her home screen.
I’m afraid to go to sleep tonight. If I stay up all night, I won’t have nightmares, but I’ll be overtired tomorrow. Being overtired has a distinct drawback: Once I do finally sleep, I sleep too hard to force myself awake from a nightmare, and I get locked in for the duration. I hate playing chicken with myself. My cat usually wakes me up, but sometimes she just goes somewhere else to sleep. Welp. I’m going to get it over with tonight while I can still easily awaken at will. I’ve been having flashbacks all day, so I know I’m in for a doozy. There’s nothing I can do about it now, so I’m ignoring it until I can’t. I just wish Anxiety would get the fucking memo.
I only have one hard thing to do this whole week. I’m already calling the victory because it’s happening, dammit. I might even tack on another hard thing because my anxiety can only rise so high. Worst case, I have a panic attack in public. I’ve never died from a panic attack. I’ve wanted to, but it can’t kill me. The most it can do is ruin an hour of my life. Shit. I’ve spent more than an hour wedged (stuck) under a missile while on guard duty in the desert, (It was the only shade. Desert. Shutup. 😂) I can take the hit. It’s worth having two hard things out of the way. I’m off to beat my drums.