ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Sunday, December 04, 2016

C is for Cookie

There is about 3/4 of a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough sitting across from me right now, just waiting to be eaten. All ready to go, spoon in it and everything. I have been picking at it while I read and write and do all these glorious Sunday things that involve not leaving my apartment and talking to the cats all day, catching up on the past week's podcasts.

Yesterday afternoon I went to the local grocery market thing I visit for some afternoon snacks (stuff for a smoothie and other well-intended purchases) and noticed (because while I DID pick up stuff for a delightful kale treat I had run a 10k in the morning and went to rehearsal for a bit in the afternoon so I should probably eat more than just kale, right?) they were completely out of the frozen cookie dough I buy there and chunk off in little bits. Sometimes I cook it. Most of the time I just let the dough balls sit out on the counter for about 4 minutes. Just long enough to be a teensy squishy with solid chips.

Upon learning of frozen cookie dough absence, I immediately told Mitch that this was unacceptable and out of hunger and spite I was going home to make dough. He sent back words of encouragement about cookies tasting better with some anger or something. But when I got home I realized I had only one egg left. Well, one egg does not a batch of cookie dough make. You need two. Why do I only have ONE egg? What happened to the other eggs I hadn't eaten?

Then I remembered.

Last week I was up in Montreal, sitting by a pool and walking around the art museums and stomping through the snow behind the Mont Royal lookout and writing and reading and speaking what little French I know.

The drunken Irish housesitter ate them.

And a few hours later, after a Chinese bodywork session and some reading and writing, I went back to the store and purchased missing ingredients. And mac & cheese. So here I was, kind of skipping down Houston, groceries in hand, thinking "wow. wow wow wow wow wow". This is life right now. This is life on Manhattan. I do not know what I did to deserve it but I will take it and enjoy the shit out of it while it lasts.

Wednesday, November 02, 2016

Body Magic

My fibula. It healed. One bone. No more little line going through the bottom of it on an x-ray.

What a relief.

So I am jogging again. A little teensy bit. Today I did my second 5k, up and over the Williamsburg Bridge into Brooklyn and back. It feels so good. Physically and mentally. It had gotten pretty dark there in my head for a while. I couldn't stop crying some days. Other days I just didn't want to be awake anymore. I can also meditate again and have been for a few weeks. It had gotten too uncomfortable to even do that. Little things like flowers from Mandy and fist bumps from stranger helped with a little bit of hope. Going to London for a few days to really wring my brain out helped, too.

Onward and upward. This weekend is the marathon in NYC and this year I will just get to be an observer and cheer on some folks. Next year I will run it with my strong little bone.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Hems & Minks

The cats have new nicknames. To add to their millions of names (none of which they respond to because they are cats). Henri (Matisse) and Georges (Seurat) have morphed into Henry Bear and Georgie Monkey. And then Hemry and Minkey Boodle. And Hems and Minks.

We sit and chat. I talk at them mostly. They stare blankly at me, likely not thinking much at all because cats are do not have big brains or the cognitive ability to construct sentences. But sometimes they meow at me.

Anyway. On the way to the pool today, I saw a cat on a leash. And thought it would be so much fun to take the cats out with me but they want nothing of it. I tried, in earnest, when I lived in Brookline.

So I'm back in the pool (just pulling, no legs) and started PT. And in a couple weeks I'm back up in Brookline for a few days following some pretty hectic work and school time. We have a JnJ meeting on Friday and the project I've been working on (MA thesis) will get a little poster in Worcester. This is the first of my own research I'll get to present. I wrote the IRB on the couch of The Bertram Inn. And I'll get to return there to stay in a couple weeks while I work on another paper and some applications between meetings. It's one of my favorite places, that couch. Right in front of the fire, with the papers and low lights and jazz in the evening. Can't help but really relax into the moment in that space.

Monday, September 26, 2016


Is almost over. Kind of like a flash. Wonder what October will bring. Probably a lot of the same.

My leg still hurts but is on the mend. Tomorrow I'll get back in the pool and start PT. It feels really good to be able to walk around again but I am still getting really tired all of a sudden. Like okay...then at night super tired and I crash. The constant fear of fucking it up has also left. Not sleeping through the night was wearing thin.

And it is Autumn, arguably my favorite season. The sky is blue and the air is crisp. If I close my eyes I feel like I smell new pencils and bonfires. I'll be up in New England at least once next month, likely twice, for work and then back in December. You know, to enjoy that area during its best season. It feels really nice to ground here, too. Be on Manhattan for a few weeks. Clean up the garden before it closes down for the season. Make my little winter nest.

Monday, August 08, 2016

What No One Tells You...

...or maybe I was just wasn't listening?

So I broke my fibula. Jogging on a trail up in The Berkshires, a rock, gravity, physics, biology, snap. It's just the little bottom part of it, or so says the x-ray. It hurt pretty bad when it happened. I'm hobbling around pretty well, though, at this point.  Only leaving my apartment a couple times per day. This is weird and I don't really like it. But there are no time machines so I better get used to the situation.  Which involves a lot of thinking.  About a lot of stuff.  Stuff it doesn't seem anyone told me about.  In Cog Psych last semester we learned about how little we remember correctly.  Which really just means that while I swear the following were never told to me, that is likely untrue.

1. The first week or so after breaking a bone is very tiring. I was exhausted all the time. Get up and do something, tired, nap, do something else, tired, nap, repeat. It is 4:38 pm right now and I have been up since 6:30 with no nap.  If I were a betting lady (which I am not but who knows what the future will bring) I would put money on my head hitting the pillow by 10 pm and me snoozing away the rest of the night.

2. Massage heals everything. I just got back from a massage (some of which consisted of saying "no please stay away from all of the boot"...the dude was cool with it) and I will say that my ankle feels awesome right now.  Increased circulation may be the key here.

3. There is no substitute for running in treatment for depression. People suggest other activities but they are not the same.  There is not the same release of endorphines or the incredible feeling of really sweating and trotting with a cadence and matching up your breath. But the more I accept, the more smoothly the healing process will go.

So off to rest I go.  Or rather, I'll just sit here for a while longer.  And think.

Monday, June 27, 2016

That Time

It's been hot, like legit hot, now for a few weeks. I like the heat. Today I prefer it to the cold, but the truth is that I will grow sick of it within the next couple months and I like the seasons.  And the change. Weather change is a change I can deal with. Other change? Not so much.

That is unless I feel like I am the one controlling the change but that is a whole other ball of psychoanalysis wax that, quite frankly, is BORING.

So it is hot out.  And now that the heat has settled for the next couple months, I better get used to being sticky and somewhat uncomfortable unless I am sitting in a pool.  Good thing the pool opens on Wednesday.

Summer also messes with my head a little in the reminiscence arena.  A few years back I was really low during the summer and it was miserable. The Ghost of Independence Day Past still comes back around, poking its little nose in to say "hey, remember That Time?"

Not really, to be honest.

Anyway, The Sads have lifted, thank god. Or for the most part anyway.  Last night I didn't sleep well. Fireworks at 2:30, sore throat at 3:45, waking up thinking about a relationship and the wheel of fortune starts spinning the future stories.  This morning they were back, though, The Sads. All up in my face like I had forgotten fear and anger and helplessness.  So I worked and ran and called Mandie and we talked on the phone for hours while I sat on my fire escape. And in the middle of the conversation we were laughing because nothing stays too sad or down when I'm around my people.  We also realized that we've been together for almost six years now, supporting one another, and just how incredible that is. How fortunate we are.

And I feel grounded enough to soak some beans and make some dinner and ease on into the night.

Sunday, June 05, 2016


Oof. This has been a rough past 10 days. The heaviest sads I have experienced in almost two years. Considering I so rarely experience the sads for more than an hour or so now it is so affecting when I do. Everything crashes down, fear sets in, of what I have no idea, losing something I think I want maybe.

Some of this is my mind and body urging, forcing, me to rest. I have been going too much, giving too much inefficiently. As I write, I am sitting in Brookline, which will always be home in a sense. This was the place of such soul growth, little seedlings of enlightenment, where my armor cracked enough to let the sun begin to and then pour in.

I have been away from that condition, instead closing myself up and working on the outside. And as a result, it is time again to do some inner adjusting.

So I sit in a darling bed and breakfast, listening to Ella Fitzgerald and a clock tic tock, typing up some of my own research, looking online for the best trails to hike in Vermont.  For the summer I plan to mostly spend time around Manhattan and New England. Ground and reseal the foundation of my life, which is so full. All the stuff will fall out, though, if these cracks turn into a fault.

And with that, I will return to the safety of my cozy room and snuggle under covers and know that at least for tonight I am complete.