November 2008 archive

Groovy Colored Pills!!

The ceiling is not all rough, so I can’t pick shapes out of the sky. There are no little holes in the ceiling, or grooves, like a doctors office, so I can’t count dots. I can’t connect them either. This makes late night ceiling meditation difficult and too boring. Obviously! 

My joints are going through a I-am-so-pissed-at-you-I-am-going-to-make-your-life-hellish faze. Swollen knees makes it so hard to walk, that when I get up in the night, I usually crawl to where ever I need to go, so I don’t fall and rearrange my face. Hard choice: dignity or bruises. I’m valuing them both more and more. 
I started a new drug. I have no idea what it’s called but it’s a little red pill and tastes icky. I think (but I could be dancing on the moon) that this is for the Bartonella in my brain, which-take it from me!-is some nasty shit. Bartonella is a co-infection of lyme and is contracted the same way, the bite of a tick. Ew. It causes fatigue, restlessness, anger problems, pain, liver and spleen problems, abdominal pain, granulomatous hepatitis (swollen tissue mass). One to six weeks after its ‘established’, Bartonella can present various (and serious) neurological symptoms. And oh golly, oh lucky me, I got some!! Lyme doctors say that it causes my frequent blackouts, ‘intense’ short term memory loss and long term patchy memories, speech loss problems, deep pain on the soles of my feet, hallucinations, blinding headaches, cognitive dysfunction, seizures and involuntary body motions. Bartonella can also cause rashes, loss of vision,  osteomyelitis (bone marrow inflamation), osteolytic lesions (softening of the bone, arthritis , endocarditis (swelling of the heart wall), and cardiomegaly (enlargement of the heart). The ‘co-infections’, to me cause me the worst bother of all, and make treating just ‘Lyme’, more complicated. I have 2 co-infections, Babesia and Bartonella on top of Lyme, which unfortunately is quite common. And that is quite enough technical nonsense for one moment. 
In short, Bartonella, is ICKY! And I personally think it deserves just as much hate as Lyme 😀 !
Anyways…I painted my nails pink to match my LIME GREEN toes. It was practically HOT here today!! I understand about those CRAZY people in Ontario who wear sundresses when its 36 F. Because it has been cold for so long that 55 F practically is HOT! Isn’t it strange how quickly we change? 

A Little of Something

I wish I was home. Home has so much right stuff that no other place, even the capital of Corecto, could never have. 
I have never before appreciated ‘your mom’ and ‘thats-what-she-said’ jokes. I hear pronounced silences, where my friends would have chipped in with the appropriate line. It is unnatural for a teenager to go that long without hearing those words. 
I take guitar lessons now which is pretty sweet. I play with a baby guitar, or I guess those in the know would say ‘half sized’, because it is easier for my little swollen fingers to stretch the shorter distance. Reading music is extremely difficult because I play one bar, or sometimes even a note and I have to stop and think where I was a moment before. Everything I play is ‘sight reading’ even if I played it a hundred times before. Learning new ideas is virtually out of the question. I instead revisit the ideas of self-discipline and patience. And I SO could use the lesson.
I am surprised by what I can get used to without actually remembering that I have gotten used to it- does that make sense? I am sitting here, with my IV ball ‘plugged in’ and it seems like that is what everyone does. It seems habitual, but I only know its habitual because that is the way people treat it. They are calm and act like it’s normal, so instead of being like ‘WTF is this thing and what exactly is it’ and all, I just read the signs and play chill. I’m getting good at reading cues. And playing make believe. 
There is a main office at our apartment buildings and ever time I go in to play pool, watch TV or get a movie, they all say “oh hi nicole” and make small talk and ask me questions about things that no one could know except if they 
a) stalked me CONSTANTLY
b) talked to my mom or other parental units
c) met me
…and frankly, and for the sake of sanity, I’d like to think that the first one is out. So I make like I know them and just avoid names and detailed conversations. I’d seriously be the easiest kid in the world to kidnap. I mean, if they just acted or even suggested that they knew me, I’d be holding their hand and walking with them. I’m sort of being sarcastic, but kind of not, if you follow. I’d like to think that I’m pretty lax about the getting-to-know-you thing. 
I play make believe a lot as well. Once upon a time in a far away kingdom, a 16-year-old sits in her yellow walled chambers cutting out pictures in magazines, glue up to her elbows and a crick in her knee. The curtains on the glass doors are pulled back to reveal seemingly endless trees, giving way to ocean and the distant bank of green. The porch overhang blocks out the warmth of the sun but no light. The phone rings and she bounces on her bed, laughing with a friend. She runs upstairs, the dog following close behind. She boils water and puts on pasta and is making tomato sauce and is just adding brown sugar. Enter parents and dog. Pasta noodles tossed in sauce and schlepped into a casserole dish and into the oven it goes. Plates and silverware and candles and toasted bread and then desert and clean up. She plays a piano interlude maybe. A knock at the front door. Friends. Then it’s popcorn and movie selections and a game of Life with good friends. It’s still summer. And the girl runs down the stairs and sleeps tight that night.
I dream of my house in a kingdom as far away as the sun. And of another time and the other way it could have gone. 
Ahh the simple life. Good times. 
“It is normal to give away a little of one’s life in order not to lose it all.” – Albert Camus

Think Scattered

I think my mind is playing mind tricks on me. It want me to think I am lowly and not worthy of memories.

I forget. I feel dumb to forget. I mean its so simple to hold on to and yet now I always leave it go. Cotton, jello, microwave noodles, that cheese in a tube that is clearly not cheese: that’s what I feel my brain is made of. 
I sit on my bed, into the wee hours of the morning. I see the stars twinkle and the sky lighten as it makes way for the suns reappearance. I know from the glow above my curtains that it is close to dawn. That its been hours since I should have gone to sleep. It makes me so mad.
I spend too much time in my own head. I’m an outward person usually and now I find that I reflect more and think of things more. I over think, maybe. But the past is so reliable.
Sitting cross legged on my bed, like I’m about to bust out a sick yoga move, I fall inside a memory as warm as it aught to be. 
A wok, big enough to use as a toboggan. All the neighbors. Kids. Frisbee. Duckduckgoose. Rocks. Chasing children. Eating hot, smoking stirfires. 20 cup rice cookers. New people. Old friends. Smiles. Wild asparagus growing the the ‘marsh’. Playing Credence and Metalica songs on the guitar. More smiles. More laughter. Girlies giggling and eating ice cream. Summer.

Average day with the Pierces. Playing cards. Sitting on the grass. Smoothies. Plastic cups. Old table cloths. Big green marbled ball, bouncing off Amy’s head. Laughter so loud and hard it hurts. Similes. More smiles.

Sitting. Just sitting and breathing in grass. And friends perfume. Just laughing. I hear just the laughter and the hard ground of the Field.

Football in the summer. Running in tights over the lawns. Teasing. Flirting. Smiling. Summer warmth. Heat. Classes to go to but we still haven’t won. So much love. Hugs. Oh and body checking. But more hugs

Full contact duckduckgoose. Girls screaming. Circles. Smiles.

Running, just running. Feet. Hearts. Lame P.E. uniforms. 

Burning pop tarts. Seattle. Victoria’s Secret. Perfume. A mess of clothes. And the feeling of more love than could fit in that two double bed room.

A basement. Two basses, a guitar, drums and an upright grand. Laughter. Strobe lights. Good rock music. Friendship. Just sitting and thinking. Strobe lights. Yes, it was a popular theme.

A classroom. Friends in a circle all laughing. Playing mafia for hours. Heat turned up to the max. Nachos. Smiles. You can taste the tang of dry heat and wet wool and love.

So many choir room lunches. Circles. Laughing. That’s what she said jokes. Sandwiches. Rice crisp bars. Beautiful piano. Harmonies. Harmonies. Together laughing and growing friends. Harmony. 

Goodbyes. Hellos. Secerts. Girlfriends. Makeup. Tears.

Empty school dances. Heat fogging the windows. Cold outside. Smiles. Dancing. Drinks. 

Shakespeare. Summer. Horses and hay and sweet smells. Love. A true company, built with so much love. Prospero and I piling on the deck. Chain reaction. A tangle of love and strength and friendship and numb legs and arms later. A feeling of one. Warmth. Laughter. Fuzzy peaches and Mars bars and Grammas’ snacks and costumes. Mustaches. Me and my half’s costumes.

My sister. A beautiful friend who flew the coup to South Africa. Smiling and hugging me and holding me. Remembering how we were mistaken for each other in primary school. Playing Barbies. Making Christmas cookies. Lipstick to ward off brothers. Hugs kisses more hugs and forever we will be sisters. My other half. Forever.

A laugh. Infectious. A friend. Heart wrenching familiar. Saddening to remember and yet not. 

Not being able to say ‘see you tomorrow’ at the end of each day. Leaving for a weeks journey and ending up here 4 months later. There is never enough you can put into a goodbye. 

A beautiful girl. With hair to envy mine. A smile practically ear to ear. A musical crazy-child. La Senza and BoSho visits and bubble tea. Busking. Choir and laughing and hugs. Dating a bestest friend. We’re tight. We were tight. If I could remember things would be all right.

Other scattered memories of friends. Whose voice is whos? Match faces, I know I can. Think Think THINK harder!!

I have scattered memories of all these things as though I saw them in a movie a great while ago and have forgotten details. Some things I remember as clearly as yesterday. But I have not forgotten you all. I will not. Because as long as I work at it and write down each day, the day will not die. It will not end. The day has been reborn in prose.

“Friendship consists in forgetting; what one gives, and remembering what one receives.” -> Alexandre Dumas Père

Think again if you think I will give in to a little thing called the now.

There’s Only This

Wouldn’t it be nice to see into the future? To know for sure, without the shadow of doubt hovering over you, to know that things will work out!? To see yourself in 6 months, a year, or even 5, happy and healthy and laughing and just everyday living. 

Like old times.
Nothing makes me happier than when I imagine myself with me friends, see them laughing and saying weird things in my head. Just everyday living. Just average days. 
The past is the most potent drug. It has the power to bring you to tears of sadness or shame, or make a grin flit across your face, or make you laugh. You don’t need anyone to take a sip of the past; you just need to think hard and it will come to you, warm and loving like a best friend. Yes the past is a beautiful. But so is the future.
The future is a different kind of med. It is a wistful and distracting drug of beauty. It is full of ‘if-s’ and ‘maybe-s’ and ‘when-s’. It stretches your imagination so wide that it can pitch you into a whole new world that is yours to sculpt. And it is all yours and only reality can take it away from you.
And boy is reality a tonic and antidote to most things. What a fricken kill-joy that reality…
I love a taste of the past and spare a thought for the future but what is always best is the now. The now seems to be always left out and it deserves a chance.
“There is no future. There is no past. Thank god this moment’s not the last. There’s only us, there’s only this. forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other way. No day but today.” – From ‘Rent’
That is the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me. 
%d bloggers like this: