sickly

My stomach is revolting. Against me, that is.

Was up and down between the bathroom and the bed last night. Today I feel tired and groggy — slightly dizzy even — and my stomach feels like there's a cue ball making its way down my intestine.

So, there's not a lot of complicated thought to go around today, while there is a lot to write about. Some notes, perhaps for later:

1. The closest thing I ever came to a "mentor" (which isn't very close at all) died last Friday. I'm surprised and yet not surprised at how little I'm feeling in response to the fact. He was a difficult, very negative man who had a lot to teach but who couldn't get his personality out of the way a lot of the time to give it without hooks and barbs attached. Perhaps if I was more involved with the theater he ran, and of which I am a member, and I'd had more interaction with him these past years, I'd be harder hit. I don't know. Part of me wonders if this reaction is foreshadowing to how I'll feel when my father passes — a lot of that personality description above pertains to my relationship with my father, too. Don't get me started.

2. Spent three hours working on the apartment on Sunday — throwing things out, making piles to donate to charities. Poor Amy has the worst of it, as her "massage room" will become Ella's room, and she has a hard time throwing things away. But it felt good. I like clearing things out. It gives me the feeling I'm starting afresh. I used to like to re-arrange my bedroom when I was a kid. It was like sorting out my brain and allowed me to get that same feeling of "newness" I get from throwing things away. I think it also allows me to imagine that all the mistakes I've made have been washed away with the "old" me. Silly, I know, but true.

3. Holy shit, there's a baby coming and I'm not ready. (repeat x infinity)

4. I'm convinced that people can be broken down into two categories: creators and consumers. Consumers get joy from taking in "culture," however you choose to define it: music, theater, painting, opera, televised bowling, live sports, etc. Creators are people who find their joy in creating and participate in those things. I'm afraid that I've become an consumer. Or that I've always been a consumer, masquerading as a creator.

5. I had a conversation with a therapist and being amazed at how emotional I got when asked what I was looking for (it was a long conversation up to this point, and it was mostly about how I have so much going on in my brain and so many emotions about all the shit going on around me, and all that's happened before) and I came up with the word "peace." Yesterday, it occurred to me that I may not ever have the luxury of finding a kind of peace that is sustainable longer than a vacation, or a movie, or book, or an orgasm. I may just not be that kind of person.

6.While we were cleaning the other day, the song I Will Follow You Into the Dark came on and Amy and I joked about how we wanted to die before the other person did (hahaha?) and I came out with "think about it, though... with Ella around, we'll never be alone again." We both got very quiet. We will always have Ella. It had just never occurred to us in quite that way before, I don't think.

Enough for now.