Posts in category "Daily Life"

pharmaceutical intervention

Sanity is sup­posed to come from lit­tle por­tions of Cipralex, but I have to sur­vive long enough for the doc­tors to find the right dose. It may well be sev­er­al months before they dis­cov­er what works, and every day in between ter­ri­fies me.

Until then, I can’t sleep, I can’t come, I can’t eat more than half of what I used to before get­ting full, and I can’t go with­out Gravol to fight the nau­sea. The side-effects are sup­posed to be bet­ter than the alter­na­tive — and I sup­pose cot­ton­mouth is good way to get me to drink more liq­uids — but every wretched day makes me ques­tion whether this unique form of hell is worth it.

This used to be one of my great­est fears, and here I am faced with it cause I could­n’t han­dle life by myself any­more.

what fool hath added water to the sea?

O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain,
That shall dis­til from these two ancient urns,
Than youth­ful April shall with all his show­ers

—Titus Andronicus

I lost my life as I knew it, piece by piece, over days and weeks and months. Now things will nev­er be the same. In moments of cri­sis, every­thing has been dis­tilled; what’s gone is gone for­ev­er, and what remains is what I will car­ry for the rest of my life.

And as the threads unrav­eled, I tore myself from the world away, my face unable to bear the bur­den to oth­ers.

Do we have any movement from the Baratheons?

Our nights are filled with alliances made and bro­ken. I’ve nev­er been par­tic­u­lar­ly good at nego­ti­a­tion or betray­al, and that’s prob­a­bly why my house is usu­al­ly the first to go in the Game of Thrones. I’ve become that guy who sucks and con­se­quent­ly pos­es no threat at the thing every­one is into, but still plays cause it’s always worth see­ing the bluffs and calls, the bold alpha strikes, and the devel­op­ment of grudges.

I’ve nev­er got­ten along with the caf­feinat­ed, shaky, social­ly awk­ward guys who fre­quent the rare binders at the com­ic book store, per­haps cause they remind me too much of an ado­les­cent ver­sion of myself. But this is our own ver­sion of geek­ery, with our own rit­u­als, and the com­pa­ny is nev­er any­thing less than enter­tain­ing.

movement from the Baratheons
Game of Thrones
Seth equipped

Armed with Valyrian steel blade and mes­sen­ger raven, for con­trol of the fief­doms and the king’s court.

a path you didn't choose

People are for­go­ing their heavy coats for light jack­ets, even a litte skin. But win­ter still lingers in the crisp air, a reminder that it has­n’t been long since those frigid nights, but that it’ll soon be warmer and brighter. On the right days, I can wake up with the warmth of the sun on my face, dri­ve with the win­dows down, and eat din­ner in the day­light.

The cats sit intent­ly by the back door for hours, lis­ten­ing for any birds come home for Spring. They haven’t heard any since last year, and for Byron, that’s pret­ty much a life­time. Nowadays, I mea­sure time by how much heav­ier feels every day. There’s a com­fort to be found in know­ing that your cats are grow­ing and healthy.

cats eating

It feels like so much of what I used to cher­ish has fall­en to the way­side. Like I’m relent­less­ly try­ing to catch up on sleep, on time spent with friends, on gui­tar prac­tice, on var­i­ous projects, on get­ting to inbox 0. With time now such a valu­able resource, I’ve been re-eval­u­at­ing things to sal­vage as much as I can. Figuring out the dif­fer­ence between what I tru­ly enjoy and what I enjoy because I think I should, between what I need and what I want.

It’s strange to think that I’ve end­ed up here, and yet it’s hard­ly dif­fer­ent from where I was not so long ago. Life is always inter­est­ing, no mat­ter what age you are, and regard­less of how you think you’ve set­tled into it. If you’re doing it right, at least.

little victories

Remember when I used to write about every­thing? When there were a mil­lion dis­trac­tions to keep me warm, and all the lyrics cap­tured a moment I nev­er want­ed to for­get. The chang­ing sea­sons, the goose­bumps beneath my fin­gers, the taste of affec­tion; it all lived on in my songs, and I want­ed noth­ing more than to put it all on paper.

I’m try­ing to get there again. Not with dra­mat­ic, sweep­ing changes, but by rebuild­ing brick by brick. I can make it if I focus on putting one foot in front of the oth­er, liv­ing day by day.

a snowy end

So I’ve been cher­ish­ing the lit­tle vic­to­ries, cause they all count. And luck­i­ly, life is full of them.