Kiss5Tigers

The 5 Tigers represent the big things in life. This blog is about facing them.


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A Better Day

Today was better than the past couple have been.

First of all, I got my meds under control. I am taking the right things in the right dose at the right time. That is huge. I still have to pay attention to the blood pressure meds though. Parkland only gave me a week’s worth and the earliest appointment I could get was in May which is, well, more than a week away. So getting that managed will be important.

I woke up in pajamas with no idea how I got into them. I was wearing a white t-shirt that I have been looking for, and I don’t know where I found it. I have no memory of putting myself to bed. But I was exhausted from being up all night Wednesday night with my daughter.

I made it to ATTA, my art group, today. I really like them. I am working on a mail art project where I need to make 40 little pieces of art the size of a postcard. Yup, 40. Which isn’t a lot but it’s a whole lot to do. I’m not sure how I feel about the individual pieces, or rather I’m sure I don’t care for several of them already, but a body of work is interesting. I think I’ll try it again with a series rather than individual works. The thing is to mail it off to a third party who will bind them into books with other people’s work, and then send me one. I can’t wait to see what other people do.

I haven’t made mail art in a long time, and I’m feeling pretty good about it.

I stopped at Burger King on the way home. I had missed breakfast so I was really hungry. I swear it was the best burger, which I know is because of my appetite.

When I got home, I napped on the sofa. Sitting up, not stretched out. I’m glad I slept though I had planned to work out this afternoon. I needed the extra sleep. I dreamed that I had inherited a horse, then woke up to find something on the TV about cowboys, so that made sense.

I have a recurring location in my dreams. It seems to be a house that I live in and a city. I travel places. I have neighbors. It’s like an alternate life. Charles de Lint, one of my favorite authors, has a story about a woman named Sophie who is the daughter of the moon, who has an alternate life at night when she dreams. If he didn’t, I would write that story based on my own experiences. Now if I tried, I’d be afraid I was plagiarizing his work. More closely than simply inspiration, I mean.

I am reading The Muse Is In by Jill Badonsky. I’ve known her online for several years now. Not that we’re close or anything. I guess I’ve followed her more than actually knowing her. I found the book at Half Price Books and grabbed it. It’s a little bit difficult to read, in the physical sense. Of course I am sure they are shrinking the fonts in published materials, which is no doubt my age, but this is also a creative font and the pages are colored. It’s a very fun book, but it may be a case where style has overtaken substance. Which is a shame, because what I’ve read so far is very good.

I finally heard from my friend K. She knows she’s been busy and hasn’t had much time for me, so that’s good. She is seeing the new boyfriend 3 times a week, which seems like a lot pretty quickly, but you know, good for her. She’s been wanting a partner for a long time now. I need to get back to her and say that I’d be happy to do things as a group if she wants to share the boyfriend’s company. Weekends are generally better for me to see her, and I imagine they spend at least one weekend night together.

It’s also my friend B’s 10 year cancer free anniversary. We’re going to go to a movie to celebrate, then get together with other friends later in the week. M and T have also had cancer now, I am the only one who hasn’t. M is still in treatment, and that’s interfering with all of us meeting up Sunday.

Saturday evening, I’m planning on going to a meeting called a College of Complexes. The topic is creativity and I can afford the “tuition” and maybe a pizza or a plate of food. I’ve never been and I don’t know anybody, so it depends on how confident I feel tomorrow evening.

I need a shower. I haven’t had one in like 5 days. It just seems so unnecessary, which I know isn’t true. I could wash my hair, shave my legs, clean off the sweat. All good things. I know it’s the depression end of my bipolar that makes this hard. I’m gonna try to do it before going to bed.

I also need to do laundry. I think I’ll start it tomorrow morning while everyone is asleep. I don’t know why I can’t seem to do laundry when people are around. I often do it while the roommates are out of the house. Something about being observed, I guess.

So that’s life the last few days. Art is good. Daughter is doing okay, still swollen in the knee but hurting less. Daily tasks need help. Mail art!

Enjoy


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Franklin

I don’t know Franklin, I only know about him.

A friend of mine passed him on the street regularly. He was unhoused. She didn’t get to know him, but he was part of her community. For several days she didn’t see him, then she noticed his belongings scattered about the area where he camped. She knew something had happened but she didn’t know who to ask. Then she found the little shrine in his honor. His friends had bundled up his sleeping bag and set out flowers and candles, a small sign that said “Franklin”, the usual thing you see on the side of the road.

I want Franklin to be remembered so I painted a picture in his honor:

Parts of it I am very pleased with. Considering that I can’t draw.

I am slightly off my meds, and I am weepy. I ran out of the mood stabilizer. I have been crying over sentimental things, like a character dying in a movie. I generally feel pretty stable in my moods but I thought that was just me. I learned in my 20s that big emotion was bad for me so I worked at being understated in my expressions. I thought I was a calm person. I’m not really. I’m quite emotional without my meds.

I wonder, is that a problem? I made art because I felt sentimental about a homeless man. And it’s not bad art, all things considered. I want to make more art. Is taking the meds interfering with creativity? Is making art worth being emotionally raw? Maybe if I lived alone, but surely it would be a problem for my roommates, if I was all over the place.

In a few days I will be stabilized. The meds will have built up in my system and my mood will settle down. I’ll be back on my usual weekly schedule and things will be back to normal.

Funny phrase that, “back to normal”. Normal is a double-edged word in my life. Normal, like neurotypical, which I’m not. Also normal like typical, as in typical for me. Do the drugs make me normal? Is it worth it? I’m not 100% on that, but is that just my mood because I’m off my meds?

Does being on my meds cloud my thinking? Or is it that depression so often feels like truth to me? It seems like seeing things clearly but maybe I am just used to that particular bias. If you always look through tinted lenses, that appears normal. If you take them off, that might be reality, but putting them back on feels familiar and comfortable. Is it really better? I can’t tell.

I feel like I’m talking in circles which is surely a sign that I need the meds. Do I really need them, or do I just think I need them? I mean, joining a gym, looking for a full time job, those are normal things. Making art, not so normal. Yet making art makes my soul happy. Going to the gym is good for my body though. And I need to do it more often. I wonder if I would go, if I was off my meds. I mean, I’ve been off them for about a week and I haven’t gone. Coincidence? Maybe.

In other news, Momo just nosed the dog. He laid down next to me, which was also next to Jack. Charli getting in the middle of everything has driven Momo off. Such a shame, I was honored that he was dozing against my leg.

I have some add-and-pass pages to send out. I’m going to send them to each other. I mean, they have names and addresses on them so I’m going to send the item from envelope one to someone listed on item 2. Ah, yes, add-and-pass. A picture, or in this case a chapbook, where you put your name and address and maybe alter it in some way. Then you send it along to someone else to do the same. A mail art staple.

I haven’t left the house today, except to get the canvas out of the car and put the empty cat litter container in the trash. Today was lovely out. Hopefully tonight will be temperate. Last night was too cold, but today was warmer than yesterday, so maybe. I usually get out of the house to go to a group or a store. I’m thinking tomorrow would be a good day to work out and do some laundry. I want to make more mail art but that isn’t exactly something I can do in public, like at a coffee shop.

Trying not to think in circles. It’s only 9:30 so I’m not ready for bed yet, but I think soon it will be time. Charli the kitty has decided to nap balanced between the back of the sofa and my shoulder. She will be bothered when I get up. Right now she’s purring. And snoring. It’s almost like a sleeping child, that level of trust and relaxation.

Well, I’m off to look at mail art calls and see if there’s anything I can do tomorrow. Wish me luck.


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The Need to Connect

I love words.  Obviously I do, since I choose to blog.  I love that blogging allows me to explore an idea in more depth than, say, Facebook does.  Not that Facebook puts a limit on how long a post is, but the format doesn’t lend itself to ruminations of any kind.

Now I like Facebook.  It gives me almost instant access to people.  But lately I am missing the old BBS’s.  I miss the connection of paragraphs rather than sentences.  I miss feeling like I really knew people.  It’s the difference between chatting at a cocktail party and having a meal with someone.  Both are good, they’re just different.

I write letters to connect with people.  I do.  I write actual pen-to-paper snail mail letters.  I’d say, if you want one, contact me; but the internet will be around long after I am no longer blogging and I can just imagine some poor person trying to reach me and I’m not around.  I do have a mailing list and I do send out mail on a regular basis.  In fact, I’m planning to send some stuff out this week.

So what is it, this drive to connect with folks?  I don’t build community much in person.  No, I take that back, I am part of several communities.  I have a friend or two who I met just socially.  I have 2 different groups of work friends from different jobs.  I have more than one friend from support groups.  And of course I have roommates.  Oh, and my extended family (the nuclear family have all passed away, but the cousins remain).  So there are several communities of which I am a part.  I am more social than I give myself credit for being.

And yet I feel disconnected.  The only thing I know to do is reach out more.  Go back to The Cat Site and IUOMA and see what’s going on.  Plan lunches with the work ladies.  Call my family and see what’s up.  Write some letters.

Maybe, if you read this, you could leave me a comment so I know we touched each other’s lives for a moment.