crazy rhythms
i have just now discovered that my ‘driving’ playlist, by which i mean a collection of songs that make me feel like a flashy coked-up businessman speeding down the highway in an open convertible*, which were all made by men between 1979-89, is actually the perfect ‘workout’ playlist, by which i mean it’s perfect for lying very still in the middle of the night feeling like all the kinetic energy in the world is about to burst from my body, and imagining that someday it might get to come out, maybe soon. maybe tomorrow. though i’m incredibly skeptical about my ability to follow through on decisions that are good for me, by which i mean being my own best friend.
my therapist and i are working on my ability to feel and express my anger, so i’ve been doing candle meditation (staring at the flame to learn to emulate it - ps. flames are CUTE), by which i mean i did one candle meditation a few days ago.
each week adopts its own impossible challenge. Monster of Mundanity of the Week. i feel like i’m wheel-spinning nowhere, and yet when i check off “name something i did well today,” it’s almost always that i stayed focused. so am i only focusing on things that keep me in one place?
that’s kinetic energy misspent physically, emotionally and metaphorically. look at me. wow.
yes i’d like to stop talking and thinking about myself, what with Gaza and everything. i used to read interesting books and have thoughts that didn’t start with “i.” what happened?
I want to read Ways of Seeing by John Berger. I think i have a copy but i’m not sure where it is. every quote i read from it stops me dead in my tracks. I have hit the maximum number of open tabs allowed in the browser i use on my phone, which is 500. I have 531 unopened texts according to my homescreen, but if you open the messages app it’s only 221. I feel the weight of each one of those texts regardless. it’s 4:09 am. I only notice time passing when i’m with another person, or if i notice then i forget that it matters. I have one and a quarter adderall left, with no prescription.
I sent a very angry text to my roommate when i got home tonight, so i have the fallout from that to look forward to. therapist hasn’t yet covered how to express my anger properly (or handle what comes next), just that i should be doing it. i hope i haven’t fucked up.
self-deprecation aside, i think i’m very cool and a great writer.
i’d like to have time to think about something other than myself, is maybe the problem. i’m working 40 hours a week now which i did NOT sign up for. i magically have tomorrow off, and it could be a very full day in which i enjoy all the activities i’ve been looking forward to and get dopamine from completing tasks. or it could be a sad whimper of a day in which i feel so burdened with expectations and perfectionism that i fold myself into smaller and smaller pieces inside before slinking defeated into the arms of my cuddly depressed boyfriend. we’ll see.
here’s my driving playlist so far (to be played in any order):
Eyes Without A Face - Billy Idol
Dead - Pixies
Crazy Rhythms - The Feelies
Dog-Man - George Duke
Good Question - Lee Ritenour
Vertigo/Relight My Fire - Dan Hartman
this blog post has been very yang/male/yellow. and manic. goodnight 💛
*every single movie from the 80’s starts with a credit sequence over shiny skyscrapers and a harbor (which is where my internal businessman lives). why?