Glad Hands

sfondo-astratto-colorato-2-1151715-639x440I feel blind, I feel unnerved, I feel alright.

I’ve become a panic investigator which is something.  I’ve been having all sorts of twinges and odd feelings of late, but for the most part, I can figure out why.

It’s not the same as going to a doctor like a reasonable, sensible person, but in the interests of what is…it is far better than quaking in your boots for a week until the feeling subsides and you’ve gaslit yourself so completely that you can hardly know what’s an actual pain from the imaginary ones.

So today, I think the pain in my scalp and crown of my head is probably not unrelated to the pain my neck which is clearly totally due to the constant, hour upon hour upon hour, craning I do to look down at my phone.  All in the interests of being connected to the hive mind every hour of every day.  I’ve decided that is not something I can allow myself to do, so the phone is not settled next to me, blinking at me and the computer will not be carried into my room to interrupt my sleep and I will wake up at 7:30 in some state to get to my breakfast meeting and to sell myself as a cheerful, go-getter sort of girl.

If I am wrong, it has a month to be corrected before we will banish the witch doctors and get ourselves well and truly reclassified.

This is not enough to fill the page, not when I hoped to do a double dose today, but work kept me hopping (even with a head that I thought was on fire/going numb) and my legs ache from that after last night’s concert and I am quite tired.

I’m as tired as that little kitten over there who wants sleep next to her new friend.

Still, we will carry on,  At least to the edge of the woods here.  There’s Bake-Off ahead.

There is much to say about Mumford, the show, the man, the day, the time and probably how it all relates to panic and anxiety and overcoming it just for a moment to feel earnestly.  I don’t know if I can actually achieve that sort of scape of meaning in tonight’s go, but suffice it to say that I enjoyed myself even in the midst of feeling like I couldn’t possibly enjoy myself because the strobes were too much and my legs wouldn’t hold me up and I needed to pass out – they weren’t, and they did, and I didn’t.  I felt the deep emotional resonance of the voice on the air, the thrum, the swirl, the loveliness of the sound of the banjo.  Good memories, my sister being kind and silly, her boyfriend being kind, but also stiff in the way that he has.

Lessons, I am trying very hard to learn some lessons.

The tide is red, the water is wide and high, and I refuse to swim in my white silken swimming costume so here we are, on the shore, talking of days gone by.

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