just writing about me, why I do not know

She thinks today will seem very long. She is in some discomfort; deep breaths are painful.. It could be a result of her allergies or a cold coming on. Who knows? Of course she just deals with it as she will not seek professional counsel. She realizes that she is stubborn on this matter and a bit irrational. She constantly urges others to seek the help of medical professionals while shunning them herself unless a situation forces it upon her. It is a combination of fear, lack of confidence and denial of the need. She will probably exit this world sooner than absolutely necessary because of this. Yet she feels that to be held in a web of physicians and medications isn't her way so she will go on as she always has. She will deal with discomfort and pain: she will absolutely not seek professional help unless trauma of some sort forces her hand. So when you hear her complain just let it pass over you. She has no one to blame but herself.

stuff from the teeny tiny doodle pad

A few pictures from the tiny doodle pad in my purse. I have gone tiny temporarily due to the weight of my sketchpad bag. It seriously kills my shoulder and actually when added to the weight of my purse is probably not a good thing. So I bought a tiny notebook to sketch and write in. I just ignore the lines when i sketch. Should I even call what I do sketching. No I shouldn't, I should just say doodling because that is what it is.

I believe I have just substituted this for the coloring books of my youth. It is more fun because there is no constraint. I have decided to change them to black and white soon and make them into a coloring book for you all to play with. Of course others might not think that is cool. Most people outgrow coloring I guess. Oh well I have never been most people. Now on to some writing from the teeny tiny doodle pad.

She sits at her corner table on an early morning and has made an observation. The sun has of course already risen as it is the twentieth day of April. What she has observed is that even if she had arrived here earlier this table would no longer have faced the sunrise. Apparently the movement of the earth in the changing season has moved the sunrise off to the left of her view.. She finds this interesting and is a bit sorry that she was unaware or somehow missed this change. As she records this observation she thinks she should be out walking in the early morning light. Still she does not venture outside. The morning is quite chill and she does not feel up to the physical action. So she will lay down pen and pick up marker and pencil. It is time to lose herself in a bit of creating. There is time to start something new before embarking on the next leg of her regular morning journey.

wanting to walk away

She sits in the back room waiting for her soup to heat, wondering how many more years she can deal with this job. It has been over twenty years so far and the job itself is not difficult, really very routine. It is the people, the personalities she must deal with time and time again that seems to be getting harder. Either her perceptions have changed or her tolerance for certain behaviors. One might say such is life when dealing with people daily, but what makes it so difficult now. Sometimes it is fine and nothing eats at her but on other occasions the slightest glance, word or action puts her on edge. She is beginning to feel pushed out, unneeded and unwanted. It is not a pleasant feeling so her mind says whatever and shies away from the truth. She sits waiting for her food realizing that she must continue in this job out of necessity. Should the necessity ever go away, what then. Will she walk away quietly or will there be a volcanic eruption of old anger and resentments. She hopes for the former. She prays to be able to walk away soon.

she sits

She sits in a booth at a popular fast food spot. She is here on several mornings just killing time until her chariot, or bus which ever makes you happy, whisks her away to her corner at the doughnut shop. She normally sits at a table in the corner facing the windows to catch the sunrise. However today her form of communication requires feeding so she must sit near a fuel source. Odd how implements we use to aid us also add extra effort to our day.

A man wearing a denim jacket bearing a likeness of a well-known rodent at a well-known place of entertainment just exited the building. Just another observation she found interesting. Such observations are a way to stay alert as it is very early and she would rather be in bed. Still, early morning observations of other beings in her world helps her to stay grounded to this world. It is too easy to slip into a small world that is all her own.

As she sits at her booth creating yet another piece of her own odd artwork she listens to the music playing in the background. A thought passes through her mind: why do human beings create art, song, story and sometimes thing that do harm?. Why this never-ending need to create? I s it because we are so capable of destruction and waste? Are we attempting to bring balance? If we are but highly evolved animals; what environmental needs are triggering such rapid change in our habits and needs?

As she sits thinking and writing these thoughts, she decides that the answers are not important. The important thing is the creation and the endless possibilities. So she will continue creating things of no apparent use just for the sake of the creating. She will leave a bit of the essence that is her in everything she does as does anyone and everyone who creates something. Thus bits of us all are always out there intermingling to create a wonderful story called life.

Too much time in dunkin donuts

In the corner of the doughnut shop she sits, just as she does several times a week. She doesn't come for the doughnuts but for the coffee. Lately bagels have joined her morning routine; usually cinnamon raisin and an occasional onion. When she walks into the shop; she is recognized and upon emerging from the restroom her coffee is either made or in the process. There is a comfort in being a regular and having her wants anticipated. Yet it is also a discomfort. She is a creature of habit but also of whim. When the coffee is already being made she feels locked into a previous choice. Not wanting to be discourteous, she smiles and accepts what has been prepared for her, though that might not have been her choice for the day. It is a small price to pay for the comfort of the corner in the doughnut shop; where life's aggravations are held at bay temporarily.

So she sits and sips her coffee, that which at one time she avowed was not very good. The coffee has become a symbol of doing for herself. It is a luxury she can ill-afford. A luxury which is probably not the best for her health. A luxury that she will continue in spite of purse and health. It is a self-indulgence she will not give up.

When you see her in her corner at the doughnut shop, smile for she is in a comfort zone. A place to just be for a moment or two. A place where she is just herself with no entanglements. Smile and leave her to herself; for soon the moment will be gone and she will push open the door to leave and return to the real world.

internet game addiction

Well I guess I am addicted to playing these silly online games. I went to sign into Facebook so I could play my Farmville and Facebook is temporarily down. I am so worried about my crops withering that I tried to get to the game in a different way. No go. So seriously it isn't like they are real crops or that it is real money for crying out loud. Still, I probably will stay up a little later than I would of so I can check back and maybe save my harvest. Pitiful isn't it?

On another note I just watched the movie Julie and Julia. It was pretty good. Meryl Streep played a great Julia Child. I actually thought the best part of the movie was the way the relationship between Julia and her husband was portrayed. I remember watching Julia Child and she was not an attractive woman so if the portrayal was somewhat correct it is a beautiful thing.

I didn't get much done today because of a horrific headache this morning. I am pretty sure allergies are the culprit but I am not sure. Still if allergies are the price for nice weather I am willing to pay the price. I took the Easter decorations down and moved a few outdoor things around but that was about it for the day. I did however finish all of the laundry. So I believe I can go to bed feeling somewhat accomplished.

Why do we always have to feel like we accomplished something in our day? I am pretty sure we didn't feel that way as children. We just kept on moving and doing until we fell asleep pretty much wherever we landed. We didn't plan or over think the day. We just lived. Oh to be able to do that now. What a pleasure.

What is going on inside my head?

I am writing this just to clarify things inside my head. That is a difficult thing these days. I have been having a lot of trouble just dealing with life lately. I seem to want to sleep or just not move at all. The things I used to do to distract myself when I got anxious or irritated don't have the power they used to. This is maybe a sign that I need to meet things head on but I know I won't do that. It is not in my makeup. I have always been over the top with my emotions but I have always been able to reign them in eventually. Of course when my life was a bit more basic, what with young kids and all I was probably too busy to let this weirdness take hold. I know I probably could be busy with the grandchildren but I can't seem to get the energy that is required for that. There is a sense of disconnection that is ever growing. It is like when you walk through a spider-web and it sticks to you no matter how much you try to brush it away. It is like a creeping fungus that persists on taking over no matter what methods you use to rid yourself of it. It is very hard to describe this sense of disconnection. Have you ever just had enough of these grownup problems so you try to lose yourself in childhood or maybe just youthful memories? Those times that seemed so fun and effortless? When I remember events from my past that used to bring a smile to my face or even a nostalgic tear, it feels like I am remembering someone else's life or maybe scenes from a book I have read. There is no real connection. It is very scary. It is almost like waking from amnesia with memories but your emotions cannot connect to those memories. I keep telling myself , snap out of it Jackie but it isn't working so far. Now I am not writing this to worry anyone, just to put it in print so it isn't just another thought rolling around in my head trying to control me. I will work it all out I am sure. I always seem to manage. Sleep is a bit of a problem. I either do too much of it or it eludes me. I can sleep solid for a couple of hours, wake and then it takes a long time to go back to sleep. The thoughts just won't shut up inside my head no matter what tricks I use. Then lo and behold I must fall asleep because I find myself waking from some strange dream. On the days I don't have to work I can sleep for way too long. The strange dreams call to me, they seem so much more real than life. Odd isn't it. Well enough of this venting on paper. Maybe some of these thoughts will leave me alone for awhile.