Wheeeeeeessssshhh(brain)

I would like to just take a moment and
bitch slap my day.

**SMACK**

First of all, it was my fault. My body doesn't respond well to pills ever really(there's been an incident every year since 1992). So when the head shivers and nauseousness hit me, I panicked. I can only miss one day of class, use it now? Can I drive? Is this going to last all day? Should I force myself to eat that pizza? Can I lay down and leave Lily in her cage?
But, decisions and head shivers don't get along, unless it has something to do with sleep.
So, I got in bed, figuring I'd sleep through it and worry about emails later.
Only, I'm one of those good grade, teacher-pleasing girls (when it comes to my English classes anyway), so I couldn't stay still. I couldn't stop worrying that I was missing something really important.
So I went. I wore dirty clothes and sunglasses in the building, but I went.

AND SHE WASN'T EVEN THERE. That, my dear friends, was not my fault. Instead, she sent another professor to read from one of his books. So I sat there--in angry fuzziness--and listened (or sort of).


~~~~

I'm not even going to go into the flat tire I got while driving home.

I have this list of things I should be doing at the moment. But I also have a full day before a night class tomorrow, so motivation to read that story and those chapters is somewhere between down there and before plunging the toilet.

...I pride myself in not being a dramatic person.
I don't want to be that girl. The one with all the problems, who's boyfriend died, who had an "unstable" childhood. The victim, the girl who needs help, who doesn't trust.
I have zero interest in being her.

But these days, that's the girl I seem to be. Maybe the girl I'm becoming.
So lets think. How do I break this cycle? How can I stop being so incredibly needy, when I'm not even looking for help?

What happened??

**

I think, tomorrow, I'll make another phone call to another type of doctor. Maybe then I won't be so....


CRAAAAAAZZZZZZZYYYYYYYYYYY


♥
Manda




*it's easier to relax when I take steps back*

Buttons and Blues

I could easily be a zombie today. I'm just so tired, so I stare and eat, and stare some more.
I need inspiration, and some zeal.

I wish I had a button. No, I wish I had three buttons. One for rest (Power Down), another for rejuvenation (Awake), and one for wisdom (Update?). Living would be so much easier.



I need story ideas...And some winter boots. :)











*block out all your demons with white noise, pills, and Jesus*

Diagnosis: H.IMB

I made a doctors appointment. It's done. January 31. Maybe I can stop crying because some jackass stole my parking spot. That can't be normal. It'd be more natural to whip out a handgun, wave it in the air, and yell, "Give me back my spot,mother*censor*" (I mean we are in Memphis)

I can't decide how I feel about psychiatric medications. On the one hand, I think we turn to them when we should be turning to God. Of course humanity yearns for the quick fix, an easy way out. If I win the lottery, I could solve all my problems.
But I also believe that some people truly need them. Chemical imbalance, clinical depression, whatever you want to call it. We wouldn't wait for a cancer patient to be magically healed by faith. We act, we fix,and pray that God allows them to be healed.

So if this doesn't work, well...There's no shame in crying, right?

so I don't actually need a Thundershirt...

Epiphany: I am calmed by writing.

Duh.


After several days of major mood swings, shifts, plummets and lifts, I remembered. Writing fixes me.

Duh.





My excuses have been these:

I have nothing to say.
I am tired, can't you see how much I do between work and school?
Nobody reads this anyway.



Writing is my therapy, my anxiety pill, and source of sanity. I've known that since I was ten and got my first diary.write it out and forget.write it out and live.
Duh.
Let's hope I don't forget again. If not for my sake, than for Matt's sanity. ;)

Wishing everyone a contented New Year,
Manda

can I please just stay home and color?

This stint of my life is killing me.

I was designed for creativeness.
It's in the spare time, not the time I created out of procrastination, but the truly spare time that I never have anymore; that's when I'm at peace. Because I can read, learn, and write these scribbles with energy that I now lack. I can bake a pie and make a necklace. I can finally learn to sew and knit. I can take pictures and travel. I can live with passion, breathe with vigor, and dream with inspiration.

I spend so much of these days reading things I don't want to read, writing things I could write better in a different way...in my own way.
I burn myself out.

And I really, really don't want to do it anymore.

red pens and wine

I think I've started a bad habit. But my goodness---these stories are awful.
Seriously, do you know what proofreading is? Is there a reason you're writing in passive voice and switching tenses in every other sentence?



I always planned on getting my teaching certificate, not because I want to teach, but because I don't plan on sticking to any one career. I want to see the world, not get stuck in one corner of it. Even as a kid, I had a dozen different 5-year-plans. The plan I'm on now involves all natural dog food and an English degree. Next year's plan? I don't really know, but it may involve teaching--so I was prepared to take the necessary tests.

But...NO.
I've got red ink smeared across my face and some girl's paper.
F I'm going to fail you all. That's how much patience I have.
Teaching may not make it into any of my plans.
Please Note:
Hay= Horse's hay
Hey=Hello


Despite my complete lack of understanding, compassion, patience,*any attribute of grace enter here*, I've found a way to write, what I think, is a decent and helpful critique.
And it's name is Pinot Noir and Hershey's Dark Chocolate.

Here's to reading 17 more.

it's all in the footwear

I woke up late today. I needed to be up earlier than normal; early enough to read the newspaper (because the journalism department likes to do pop quizzes on current events). I wanted to fix my chipped, snagging-on-everything nails. I wanted to eat breakfast and feel somewhat organized.

I managed to do all of this with the exception of one tiny organizational issue---myself.
I left the house in a pair of too-short yoga pants, a grungy looking Boston shirt, flip-flops and an afro.

The pajama look I can deal with. It's comfy and I deserve to be a bum at least once a week. The afro, well that couldn't be fixed. Rainy days equal frizzy curls no matter how much time I spend on my hair in the morning. And it was storming.
But the flip flops induced one of those hell days. You know those days when you're running late and a guy on a skateboard just passed the train you're waiting on? Or the weather channel says it's going to be in the 70s, but really it stays in the 50s and you're stuck with wet, freezing feet?Or you have to drop off Lily(the devil puppy) at a friends house, but she refuses to move out of the drivers seat? For THAT day, I blame the flip flops. (my logic is sound, don't argue)


~~~~

I'm sleeping till noon tomorrow.

A Beer and a Bath

Laura just disappeared,beer in hand,to her tub. And I have never been so jealous.
We have to move.
Sitting in the shower does not make it a bath...not even with a few lit candles.

Back in the house, I would take baths for everything. If I was cold, if I was cramping, if I had a headache, if I was too lazy to stand in the shower.

But really, I miss the stillness of it. I can't lay in bed and relax. I have to read, which means I should be reading media law or something British. I have to turn on the TV, but only to keep flipping the channels in case something better comes on.
But with a bath...I am still. I listen as the water tumbles and swirls around me. I am warmed and my brain is sidetracked by the thundering drops; what headache? what cramps?
I am off the hook for not being productive--because I am. I'm soaking my skin in bubbly, almond goodness. I'm allowed to be still, and productively unproductive until I am over-heated and wrinkled.

I need a tub.
But all I have is a beer.

Confessional

I have this trouble with staying on task. I get so easily side-tracked by day-to-day being. Trivial things like feature stories and dishes take over my mind. There's no room for anything else.
But than important things, like Matt, take over. Dishes and stories are pushed out to make room for dates and love and looking pretty. And still...there's no room for anything.


I have known what needed to be done. I have known how much easier it is to stay in tune with God simply by staying in His word..And still, I never made room.


I'm not stupid. I know this isn't Christian living, I know that the door to Heaven is narrow. I know I put school and Matt before God.
I know I've stayed quiet or stopped writing, because anytime I talked about my relationship with Jesus, it sounded so incredibly cheesy. And as a creative, English girl...I have this need to stay away from cheese and clichés. I know all this.

And it's taken a community group ,that has become my family in every way, to finally put me back on task.