“It’s pretty hot under these lights, huh, Seinfeld?”

Her Majesty, Amelia Bedelia

I had to pull out my weighted blanket, last night.  It didn’t help immediately, as in the past.  I was burning like Daenerys Stormborn when I first attempted sleep.  Whenever I feel overheated or short-winded, my body wants to move as if the activity will validate my discomfort.  I played Amelia Bedelia’s favorite game of hiding and stalking.  I suspect it amuses me as much as it does her.

I discovered she has rules for the game.  They’re simple:  The cat always wins.  I lay in wait for what seemed like minutes, trying not to giggle.  Then I pounced and startled the shit out of poor Amelia Bedelia.  She let loose a long, loud meow of disdain after landing from her gravity-defying leap of panic.  Then she smacked me in the face with her little paw.  (I imagine she was informing me I broke the rules, and she didn’t want to play with me anymore.)

I melted into a puddle of boneless belly-laughter while feeling mildly guilty for upsetting my sweet baby girl.  Then I silently scolded myself while replaying the hilarity of her reaction in my mind, (giggling all over again.)  Finally, I stifled my laughter and attended Her Majesty in her soundproof Fortress of Solitude.  She glared at me, daring me to reach in and try to pet her.  So I knelt before her and softly sang to Her Grace until she forgave me.

I created two new fairy lights recently.  I’m pleased it didn’t involve bleeding, for once, but the glue gun managed to exact an equally painful toll as quilting.  I used cardboard from a shipping box on the first version and a thin sheet of wood, the second, along with transparent film canisters as diffusers.  It produces a lovely, moving rainbow glow and reflects beautifully on the chrome stand of my drum kit.  It’s no wonder I can’t help smiling while I play.  (My band has accepted this after repeatedly suggesting it makes me look like a doof.)  Fairy light for drumkit

I placed the other above my Mac workstation.  It amazes me how fairy lights set the tone of a room.  I copied Ray Bradbury by surrounding myself with things I love when I pursue creative projects.  His desk was far more cluttered than I prefer, but my addiction to synthesizers promises I’ll catch up before long.  (My intention of only collecting software synthesizers didn’t survive my first catalog from Sweetwater Music.)

Teenage Engineering just released their latest portable synth, shattering my resolve.  I haven’t ordered it yet, but I know it’s only a matter of time.  There are always people with more money than patience and a willingness to master new tools.  I call it the Dork Discount.  It’s surprisingly reliable where pretty synthesizers are concerned.  Yay.  My former days of refusing to RTFM are history where synthesizers are concerned.  Instead, I read everything I can find about them.  Then I head over to YouTube to watch tutorials.  I’m such a noob.  😂

Fairy light 2

I stepped up the pace in my Game of Thrones viewing.  The season 6 finale was so fabulous I’ve watched it three times, so far.  The music score for the episode is my favorite part.  It’s just so perfect it made me tear up.  I haven’t begun season 7 yet;  I need to allow for some processing time.  So much happened, none of which I predicted from reading the novels.  Lady Mormont is my new favorite character.  No spoilers.  🙃  I can’t wait to watch it again.  I’m off to beat my drums with sticks.  💜

“I’ve driven women to lesbianism before, but never to a mental institution.”

kittens wrapped in a blanket

I’ve draped myself in the comforting blanket of music, of late.  It’s gently healing the many wounds I’ve acquired on my journey so far.  In this pleasant space, I’m building a better survival strategy for when The New and Improved Depression Monster (TNAIDM) ambushes me in the future.  I’ve acknowledged how it affects me; out damn pride.  First to go is my wit.  I cannot rely on my keen mind when stapled to the floor.

woman listening to music

I don’t know how TNAIDM steals my intellect and rationality, but the evidence is overwhelming.  I must plan accordingly.  My inner gamer sees this as a challenge.  There are no walk-through videos to study on YouTube.  No strategy guides on message boards.  Only me, my presently uncompromised wit, and my shelter of music.  Challenge accepted.  Victory awaits.

Today, this blanket consists solely of music by Sheryl Crow.  As I listen and sing along, the lyrics reach me.  My strength and resolve rebuild.  My focus broadens, and my sorrows fade.  I remember who I am and embrace the biggest picture I’m able to perceive.  I’m stardust floating through space.  Soon, my minute of life will end, and what remains will drift on with the expansion of the universe.

All my pain is insignificant from this perspective.  I can breathe.  I can even laugh over the concerns that leveled me yesterday.  They fail to weigh me down when I zoom out and allow myself to float.  Snapshot.  Save.  Remember.  💜

 

“Have you ever seen the Incredible Hulk, sir?”

Victory is mine

I’m beside myself. Therefore, I’m writing to myself.

Dear Alison,

I can’t believe you did that shit!  Are you kidding me?!  Who are you?  You can’t be the same me that spent an embarrassing amount of time last night thinking of a way around this challenging situation.  Nope.  I was there.  You sincerely thought about taking a stab at time travel around wee-dark-thirty, don’t you know.  Did. That. Shit. Way to go!

Love, Alison

I’m proud of me for overcoming my fears and interacting with a (former) stranger in my home.  I’m in the middle of a project (building a laser midi violin for a client with rheumatoid arthritis.)  I needed to work with him to tailor it to his limited range of motion.  The last time I let a stranger in my home was when I had a connection issue with my ISP.

Everything went as expected, the person was polite and fixed the issue.  Despite that, it took a while to recover afterward (stop shaking.)  I despise reacting without my explicit consent, especially when it defies logic.  I want the ability to rationalize with my body, please and thank-you.  Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I needed my equipment, so doing it here was mandatory.

Yay

It took a while and most of my energy, but I got the information I needed to move forward with the project.  Yay.  After what felt like a minute of sleep last night, I awoke with no alternate plans (or time machines), and a 6 AM start time.  So I told myself to be like Beyoncè.  I have no idea, but somehow strongly suspect she wouldn’t have wasted precious sleep time dashing between a PC and whiteboard, though.  (She’d get the expensive, connected version, eh?)  😂

I’m floating on this victory.  I forgot how focusing on being professional drains away some of the energy typically wasted on being anxious.  I can only do so many things at once, so I love it when one of the things I’d rather not do gets kicked to the curb.  Take that, Anxiety, you ruthless bitch.  I’m pretty sure I used up too many resources to make it much further today.  Sitting upright is sapping away what little I have left, so I’m going to lay down and watch We Bare Bears and hope for a second wind.

 

“I think we all would have been a lot happier if they hadn’t landed a man on the moon.”

tickets

I know.  (Head suddenly too heavy to hold up)  What the hell, Alison?  I’m sorry.  I’ll get my shit together straight away, and get back in sync with the blogosphere, as soon as I finish this one thing.  For, today is the day M printed out the concert tickets.  (I know I said it weird, but it’s to signify this epic event.)  Yep.  We print out our tickets; we’re so old.  😂

freaking jubilant

Besides, I wanted something I can sleep with hold until it’s time.  So did the young woman we’re chaperoning to the Beyoncè show.  She (17) makes me feel a lot more secure in my reaction, (which consists of me nearly freaking out.)  We keep texting each other reminders that The Carter’s do not tolerate *lickspittles, to stay calm.  (*My new favorite word, isn’t it fabulous?  Thanks, George.)

I’m freaking jubilant.  I decided to give my brain the rest of the day off for good behavior.  I’ll likely spend what remains of it jumping up and down while listening to music.  Yay.  Here I go.  💜

“Will you calm down? I took all my blood to Newman’s.”

Me so happy

I probably shouldn’t be blogging right now.  My mind is threatening a meltdown.  The upcoming concerts I’m anticipating are wreaking havoc on my ability to remain calm.  My thoughts are running at warp speed, so there’s little chance I’ll stay on topic today.  If glimpsing someone else’s mindmap in raw form disturbs you, this is your signal to bail.  You’re welcome.  🙃

I wish people would add links to their blog on their WordPress profiles.  I can’t believe I’m going to be in the same space as Beyoncè and Jay Z.  Damn.  My hands are shaking again.  What the hell?  I can sense my mom’s spirit scolding me for being a fangirl.  (It still stings.)  I used to get in trouble for loving people too eagerly.  Is it weird I so rarely relate to others on a physical level?  Survey says, duh.  (+10 for consistency.)

If there were an awards ceremony for being weird, I’d be getting lifetime achievement props (while grinning at the wrong camera via satellite.)  Dammit.  😁  Be good at whatever you do.  My dad told me that when I was bawling because the neighbor kids told me I don’t play right.  After that, I took pride in how well I organized all the Barbie accessories; (/acceptance speech).

OMG, it's almost time!

I heard a cutoff bit of commercial by Autism $peaks yesterday.  I equate the organization to a bumper sticker that reads; Your kids’ autism paid for my kids’ education, rehab, and bail! Sigh.  People are very human.  Regardless of how holier than thou, we believe ourselves to be, we still opt to be naughty whenever the opportunity presents.  Most of us merely restrict our behaviors to that which we’re confident we can commit without consequence or shame.  (It’s just that some don’t seem to feel shame at all.)

The naughty gene is universally present in warmbloods, it seems.  At least those I’ve managed to observe.  We despise this in others despite possessing it ourselves.  Human and hypocrite are synonyms.  Society determines the threshold of tolerance in all instances.  We reset every time we awaken.  No wonder it’s so arduous for me to see people. They continuously change before my eyes.  I haven’t trusted vision since I was 11.

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin continues to dominate my reading time.  I purchased the first seven seasons of the HBO series recently, and I’m reading and watching daily.  When the series strayed from the novels, I got out of sync, and am now much further ahead with the books than the series.  Reading is much more intense for me.  Yay.  I learned how to marvel at the FX when things get all stabby, instead of getting triggered.  (I’m pretty sure I long-blinked through the beheading scenes, though.)

Those with no shields experience joy more easily.

There’s an underlying theme to the characters resembling a priest who broke faith before ever taking vows.  Reading of the human condition in such varied and well-developed imaginings tickle me all the way through.  George R. R. Martin sees people very well.  My mom’s spirit is already scolding me for fangirling over it.  I want to scream; it’s impossible not to love people when you honestly see them!  Hello!  And on top of everything, Fleetwood Mac is coming to Sioux Falls!  Those seven words are playing on a non-stop loop in my head in Stevie Nicks’ voice.  Yes. There’s a dance to go with it.  💜  I’m off to beat my drums with sticks.  ✌🏽