dead weight

it takes a lot to get me going each day.
a lot to keep positive and not completely overwhelmed.
so getting to the point of blogging,
{which means not only living and savoring my life,
but having extra energy to spare
to display and preserve it,
take the experiences apart
and put them back together again with words and colors}
has been a challenge.
and not so frequent these days.

and as before, it's not about the guilt of not producing writing,
but more about what the silence means.

so things are passing through me without a written trace.
and i can only sit here tonight
hoping i didn't get a ticket for accidently going through a red light
{i saw the double flash of the camera but still hope beyond hope it gets mixed up and never finds me.}
and i'm hoping it wasn't a stupid thing to do: passing up a job opportunity i'm fairly certain i could have gotten that paid well but had crappy hours and would have forced me to seriously change/give up on my plans to pursuit acting starting with small plays around the city {that would rehearse and perform during the working hours of this job} to lead me to one day grad school, perhaps.
and the event of the overnight stay my best friend had to weather in the hospital this past weekend: the iv's. the medical tape. the blue mask, the shuddering coughs, the doctor's hint{?} of emphysema {though he's a non-smoker}, the exhaustion.
the end of the elegance of the hedgehog which you haven't heard the last of.
the nightmares.
the struggle to get to sleep early.
make art.
have some time for myself.
why do i always fill my time up to the tippy top?
seattle international film festival is just around the corner and it's going to drink up the last bit of space in my schedule i can already tell.

i think this past week has just been a tough week.

and i'm writing, fighting going off to bed when i know that would be best for my adrenals as well as my emotional well being,
trying to fill the space with something significant to mark that i am here. breathing. writing. and capable of moving and making life in these private art spaces of mine.
ignoring the decision for one more day about whether or not to try to squeek by and stay in my expensive, but darling apartment. just one more month.
and block out the simmering ache in my back tooth that won't let me be.

but tomorrow is a new day. and it will come better and fresher and cleanering and brighter if i go to bed now.

and it's been about two months since i've listened to radiohead. maybe more. hopefully you'll hear more on that later, too.