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All posts for the month June, 2011

I told the brain doctor . . .

Published June 29, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I have an appointment with the neurologist this afternoon.   This is a pretty regular event, like getting your oil changed and tires rotated.  It’s just to make sure that everything is mostly the same and to get my prescriptions refilled.

It’s just a big drag.

I’m really tired today and it’s hot.

Yesterday was my birthday and it was pretty good.  I spent the day sweeping the stage at school and hoping the good karma will sail me through to actually being able to get the kids to Houston this fall.

Yesterday I was filled with motivation and forward momentum.

Right now I’m filled with lettuce and would be asleep if I didn’t have to drive to Arlington in a bit to see the Doc.

It’s kind of hard to get in to see him, and we are coming up on a holiday weekend, then I get to spend the month of July going through the rest of  Steve’s house.  I should be writing more.  I certainly have plenty to write about, I just can’t seem to hold it together to get the words on the page in the order that I think they should be.

Therein lies the flaw.

My brain and my psyche tend to hold me back, so free writing doesn’t much help when my brain keeps shrieking back at me.

What I have to write about:

The summer reading report- the assigned stuff and the for fun stuff.

The principal at our school assigned us to read a book about teaching learning different kids, or being a learning different kid, then writing a report.

I have done the critical read of a book and have the notes and fully intend to write the report then create a zooburst digital report for it.  I think it’s important to process information in different ways.

I also have the ideas for rewriting the opening chapters of my book.

I need to write that then work it into the rest of the thing.

But then the clutter in the hallway beckons at me like the creepy chanting of kids in a horror movie.  The clutter wants me to arrange it and make it neat.

The clutter at steve’s house is amityvilling and lying in wait to suck me in.

Cash flow is going to become a problem, so  I don’t know what is the first thing to do.

Imagine the look on the doctor’s face if I say all of that when he asks me what’s going on?

All of out clever

Published June 24, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am going through some weird stuff right now.  (Like Jell-o?)  I have arranged a fairly strict schedule for myself because I do have a lot to do over the next few weeks.

The hard part is making myself do it.

The amount of cleaning that has to be done in my house and at Steve’s house is daunting, to say the least.

I did finish the research for my summer reading, so I need to write the paper, then fabulize it for presentation.  I can’t shake the feeling that I am the only one taking this assignment seriously, and I don’t think it matters to anyone besides me.

I haven’t been writing anything new because I can’t seem to listen to my brain for long enough to get it together.

I should at least be editing the old stuff to get it together for possible publication.

Apparently my whine spring is working just fine.

While recent reports say that depression can help facilitate the transition from grief to “normal life”, I don’t really think that I’m depressed.  It’s possible that I’m in denial. My shrink says that she can see the amount of pain that I am still in because of Steve’s death, but that I visibly shift to a funny incident so that I can deflect the imminent sadness. (Imminent sadness, available on Blu-Ray soon)

It is her recommendation that I just let it go so I can get past it.

I think if I let it go, I will be letting it get me.

It’s like saying what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.  Well with the kind of curve balls the universe has walloped my way (I would love to hear Aerosmith cover that.) I should be Megalon by now.

I don’t feel any stronger. I don’t feel any weaker, but not much stronger.

And then there’s this weird hand injury.   It would not surprise me at all if I spend time fighting bats or succubi while I sleep.  That’s the kind of bizarre crap that happens to me.

Strange is normal around here.

There’s always plenty of that.

I can’t tell from this end of the horse.

Published June 15, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

The problem with backing a horse, right or wrong, is the view.

I may be over medicated right now, I have a cold and getting the right dosage of, well, everything is tricky.  All of the factors in my life add up to panic, but I just feel a bit numb.  My wading through the heaps of crap at Steve’s house has been put off for a few more days.  My future in one career is yet undecided. (Not by me, I have no control over that part.) My potential in the other career is a bit stalled right now because of the medication and general malaise.

I am physically confused because I have a weird hand injury as if I have been playing several rounds of Ambien related volleyball.

Apparently there is a lunar eclipse tonight. I had no idea.

The concept creeps me out more than the obliviousness to the event. (obliviouity?)

I do not mean to sound all crunchy-granola, but the earth is clearly trying to eject us like a bad cow heart so any global event makes me a little ooky.

Not disturbed, ooky.  Disturbed is a feeling best reserved for the commerical that has Whoopi Goldberg schilling bladder control products.

I am dangling on the line between stir crazy and irritated by the rest of the world.

I think I will take some cold medicine and wait for the eclipse.

Ain’t nobody want to “friend” no ‘ho with no blue face!”

Published June 13, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Just once I would like to see a PSA re-enactment that didn’t suck.

Is it odd that I find Dr.Phil’s coined phrase “textual harassment” hilarious?

I guess no more odd than the fact that I actually write better with background noise, even if I am interacting with it.

I am making an effort to write something original every day.   Today I have the beginnings of a summer cold,exacerbated by the dust and dirt and other evil that has been blooming at Steve’s.

I know the last time I ignored a summer cold I wound up with walking  pneumonia. (No boogie-woogie flu.)

I also know that if I don’t stick to some semblance of my original plan I will wander around at it will be the end of July and I would have written nothing.

I am trying to come up with a few ideas for a new short story for yet another story competition.  I’m actually pretty happy with the last two short stories I put together.  I have a few other projects I could be working on, writing-wise.

Today’s Dr. Phil is about domestic violence, particularly violence between teenagers.

Over the last several days I had a brain-trickle whilst trying to brain storm: perhaps I can get some ideas by reading or re-reading the classics.

Re-reading the Inferno would be redundant.

I am thinking about re-reading Candide. (I read it in high school for an assignment.)

That made me think about a character I played, Candida.   She spoke to an off stage character who was being smacked around by her clients.

Then Dr. Phil is talking about the same thing, only different.

It does bother me quite a bit that with all of the information available to our young people, girls still feel that they have to stay quiet about the jerks they date.

Wednesday’s Dr. Phil is entitled, “Did Mexican Pirates Kidnap My Husband.”

So there’s two possible tangents I can follow to potential creativity.

I could start with a list of jerks that I dated and then how I had them Kidnapped by Mexican Pirates.   The research would answer the question I have had for years, “Are there Mexican Pirates?”

I do think that it shows a great deal of calmitude for Dr. Phil not to paste an abusive teen boyfriend in the face.  This kid is sitting on national television while a litany of crappy behavior is read.  The mother of the girl is also eerily calm.   I would be breathing fire.  MY mother would have to  be restrained, or possibly, be appearing via satellite from her prison cell after snapping the kid in half.    (Of course it would be a trick finding a jury to convict her.)

Everyone on stage and in the studio audience looks stoned.   Does  the studio hand out valium chip cookies prior to taping? And where can I get some?

I have to go take some cold medication.

What’s another word for blah-blah-blah?

Published June 12, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

It’s madness, madness, I say!

I could ramble on how my life constantly smacks me in the head like an errant barroom door. (From the old west?)

But even I think that’s played out.

So I’m trying to be proactive and organize myself and my thoughts and get together some kind of plan so I don’t spend  the next several days drunk and eating doughnuts.

Although that sounds tempting.

I do not like the way ” pro-active” sounds, and not just because Justin Bieber is one of the many pimply spokesheads that endorses the product.  By the way, the Beeb is endorsing a fragrance.  I find it disturbing that adolescent girls want to smell like this person.   It is even more disturbing to think of the kind of person who decided this odor was pleasing.

A large part of acting is “Acting  As If”. Right now I am acting as if things in my life aren’t swirling around me like so much toliet water and I’m trying to get one of the scrubbing bubbles to help me out.

So in an effort to fool myself and to keep myself from going insane over the next several weeks, I have created a pretty rigorous plan of exercise,writing, and cleaning.

When I boil it all down to that it seems pretty grim, or if not grim then not nearly as fun as the vodka and doughnuts.

I am currently surrounded by squalor in various stages.  There is the book squalor.  Stack one is reference material for my summer reading assignment.  I am acting as if there is a reason to take this seriously, and as if I am NOT the only one who cares about this.

Stack two is notebooks and journals where I will be compiling the notes for the above.  I am Acting As If this will keep me organized.

Stack three is a books that I want to read for enjoyment.   I am acting As If I will have the time and the focus to read something other than the have to’s

Stack four is a series of Dummies books to help me organize my thoughts because I am acting As If someone is going to give a teeny tiny rats behind what I have to say about anything.

Then there is what I call electronica.

My wireless mouse, My cell phone, several usb cords, my ereader, a few thumb drives and an Xbox controller.

I am acting as if I have a short attention span.  This may, in fact, be true.

The next portion of squalor is the move-it kit.  This includes a pedometer, a tape measure, a switch 2 health arm band and a bottle of water. I am Acting As If I don’t want to wallow and eat doughnuts and drink.

Which, of course, I do.

And we’re back.

 

Kvetch in time

Published June 5, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am not in the best mood to be around people.  To be fair, I am like this most of the time.  People think I’m kidding when I say that I may need to get my Dr. to up my dosage. (Oh yeah?  Well, up YOUR dosage!)

Seriously, there are so many things that are harshing my  mellow that I’m finding it hard to sort them out, and some of them I can’t talk about, at least not in this forum, because if I have learned anything from crime drama , it’s that once a word is out on the internet, even if you deleted, it’s out in the Cosmos forever.

I certainly don’t want to be responsible for the destruction of the Human Race by Space Aliens because my blog is grouchy because insurance won’t cover Lexapro anymore.  Technically, that would be the insurance company’s fault, but when I’m snout to snout with a death ray, I’m not going to quibble.   (I love that I got to use the word ‘snout.’)

My backspace  key has decided it doesn’t want to work unless I pound on it.  I am sure this is good for either me or the key.  I’m in Tennessee for the next five days and I didn’t bring my wireless mouse because I didn’t thin I would need it.

Ah, what fools these mortals be.

I am tense and crabby and now my finger hurts ( from jabbing at the backspace key.)

Waah.  I know.   Poor starving writers in Cambodia don’t have laptops or space keys, so I should just shut up.

 

I’m worried about THAT one.

Published June 2, 2011 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

When I first started teaching, twenty years ago, I often felt that I was pushing a mule uphill.

I am told this is not an uncommon feeling, especially when one is an  arts educator.

Over the last decade or so, I have felt less like a mule pusher and more like Job.

But, like Job, I am not likely to lose faith.

A former colleague shared this with me:

The Starfish Story
Original Story by: Loren Eisley

 One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed

a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean.

Approaching the boy, he asked, �What are you doing?�

The youth replied, �Throwing starfish back into the ocean.
The surf is up and the tide is going out.  If I don�t throw them back, they�ll die.�

�Son,� the man said, �don�t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish?
You can�t make a difference!�

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish,
and threw it back into the surf.  Then, smiling at the man, he said��
I made a difference for that one.�

I am desperately worried about one of my starfish. I’m afraid he will be left on the beach.

While I will keep hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, I know I will be ok.

But I’ll be worried about THAT one.