Nightbeat.
Rhythm, sound
Bass, splash, drips, drops
Heartbeats
Heartbeats loud, can’t be quelled.
Beating in my breast
Bursting with fortitude.
Beats, and breaths
Breathing, heavy
Breathing slow
Breathing soft, deep, quiet
Nightbeat.
Musical interlude:
Trains
Cars, wheels, dreams
And hopes.
Electric nights.
Beats, like hearts
United, ignited
This is my nightbeat.

night train.

i was sitting across from a sickeningly adorable couple, huddled together and buzzing with energy. somehow they stumbled upon the subject of john mayer... discussing his sexual habits and nonchalant bedrooming techniques. i listened, captivated by the walls of the train and disillusioned by my annoyance for 10 minutes, about meeting him in the bar, his excellent guitar skills, and his lovingly blase demeanor. it wasn't that they were particularly vexatious by nature. after all- it was late, and they were in love! i'm just a tired, slightly irritated, single girl on a late night train home (ooh, double entendre?)

all of a sudden, the maybe crazy, maybe drunk (maybe both?) older man next to them awkwardly interjected himself into their conversation, as if he had been an active participant all along.

"so i'm waiting in line for tickets one day. like, waiting all day long. and this guy comes up to me, and he says "do you want to die today? or tomorrow" so i say, "tomorrow" and he says, "no, you're going to die today." and I says, "you gave me a choice and i chose tomorrow". so, there i was... with tickets to Poko."

awkward silence ensues.

non-crazy, lovebird guy says, with hesitation, "...........I don't know what Poko is."

I just can't settle into a groove.

I keep trying to go with the flow only to find that my heart has been splattered all over the place. it's partially in JP, partially in brookline, partially in VT, partially across the country.

how can i reconnect? how can i possibly center myself?

looking for a job is an excruciating process. working at the store all day to come home and spend my night surfing the job market is not my ideal situation. i find myself being too picky. loving one aspect of a job but hating the pay. or loving the pay but thinking i'm under-qualified. or thinking i'm over-qualified and it would be boring. am i sabotaging my own search?

i want to stop my world from spinning, catch it on its axis. take time to appreciate the little things: nose rubs from my cats, nights of sweatpants and tv with my roommates, clean laundry, fresh snow, streets flooded with a yellow glow from the street lamps, unusually quiet nights from my normally loud neighbors, big fluffy clouds filling dark gray skies.

Moments of clarity. Times of silence. Sweet Nothings.

of course my cold is viral.

i sat in the doctors office on the examination table- do you know how many examination tables i've sat on in my life? waiting for some sort of news? that my brain is working properly? that my foot is no longer broken? that I have some strange stomach disorder? that i have laryngitis, or strep, or mono, or the flu? I'm like an examination table slut.

there's always this burning desire to tell the doctor that. No, I've done this before. I'm a pro. Hey, I get sick a lot. I'm prone to illness. Trust me when I say that I'm probably sick, Buddy, because I'm sick a lot. Eh, Doc, you may think i'm a hypochondriac but I'm not.

My regular doctor was out because of martin luther king day. i go to a spanish/ english branch of brigham and women's because it's close and convenient to my house, but it's pretty funny. i'm usually the only white girl in there, and all the receptionists start out talking to me in spanish. my dumbfounded look usually tips them off. "oh. one of those."

in came my non-doctor, a brusque man uninterested in small talk. he ran through the laundry list with me, listened to me say that i thought it was viral but worth checking out. he looked down my throat, felt my glands, listened to my breathing, and told me it was probably viral. i complained that i couldn't sleep at night. he prescribed me rest, fluids, and codeine with robitussin in it, to ease the pain.


--
codeine with robitussin is intense. for the first 12 hours i felt amazing. like i could do anything. i scrubbed my entire kitchen floor with a sponge, as i deemed the mop not thorough enough. i cleaned the whole bathroom, scrubbed down all the appliances in the kitchen, took out the trash, cleaned the litter box, cleaned the fridge, did the dishes. i felt great. and i wasn't coughing. which meant my sore muscles were relaxing. my throat wasn't strained.

around bed time, an interestingly irritating stomach ache set in. it was pretty horrible, actually. it wore off after about an hour, and then i came to find that codeine is certainly not a sleep aide. i spent most of the night with my mind racing. i mulled over everything important and all things not important that i could possibly pull from the very depths of my being. and i really never felt tired. just the irritation that comes with sleeplessness. and frequent trips to the bathroom.

i think i'll lay off the codeine/ robitussin mix. communicating with customers while on it today was understandably unsuccessful.

customer: "Ma'am, I don't really understand this receipt"
me: "yeah.. our receipts are so weird, aren't they? I mean, they're soooo weird."

the glow of the clock serves as gentle reminder. neon in its insistence. it's time for bed. and sleep is inevitable at this point. even my nagging cough won't hinder my slumber for long. i'm just waiting for the nyqil to kick in. i rarely take a sleep aide, but it has been necessary in battling this strange attack on my body. drugs, sleep, water, tea. sleep- wake up- do it again.

coughing on customers has become a favorite past time of mine. waiting until i'm in the middle of something good... car seat laws, or the importance of finding the perfect stroller- that i decide to cough right into their pregnant bellies, or the sweet, precious faces of their children. and usually, it's not just coughing. it's a full on attack. coughing until i excuse myself, drink some water, let my eyes well up with tears. my body physically aches.

i've been complaining about this. a lot. and really, to anyone who will listen. you forget what sickness is like until you're stricken. gives me back an ounce of empathy. actually, it gives me tons of empathy. i think of people who live their entire lives, sick. no relent, no release, no freedom from that chamber. i'm lucky to be so healthy. i'm lucky that when i get sick, it's been so long that i have to complain like i'm dying. because if the memory of ailments was that close to my remembrance at all times, i'd be in a much worse place.


i've been in the mood to write lately. i'm an expressive gal. I guess i have a lot to say. and this has been a rough week. on the bright side, it can really only get better from here. it's categorically impossible for things to get any worse. I should be careful playing that game though, it's like im daring God to prove me wrong. entirely not the idea.


sleep is coming now. heavy, like a fog over my brain. i have so many thoughts whirring around my head, but my body is feeling the physical affects of this drug. it's like an epic battle. who will win? Mind, or body? I'm gunna go with body. My mind can think in dreams.

tomorrow, i go to the doctor. good night.

A craft blog was a truly alluring idea... I was captivated by the idea and sure that once I had one, my crafting would be facilitated and the ideas would flow like honey.

I'm a terrible craft blogger.

today has been full of sneezing, coughing, and body aches. WebMd further convinced me that i was, indeed, taking up residence on my death bed. I have spent a good portion of the day fantasizing about my imminent demise.

still at mikki and ezra's. we're watching flight of the concords. i'm in the process of losing my voice. 10:47 and i'm tired- how old am i?

mikki says: "your voice sounds like shit. you can add that to your blog entry"
and ez says, "you have a blog? shit. i walk around like i know you and then... you have a blog!"

Right now is kind of perfect.


We're in Mikki and Ezra's living room; bright, snowy light shining through the windows. Fat, full flakes falling from the heavens without any sign of relent. Mikki's organizing the bookshelf, I'm looking for a job, and Ezra's playing "Unchained Melody" on the guitar.

speaking of relentless, I have this cough that i can't get rid of. my body is sore, the way your body is sore after an intense work out, or after you've been run over by a train.

Daily excitement comes in the form of coffee, moments of clarity, times of silence, and sweet nothings.

I feel comfortable right now. This day off is definitely necessary to my mental and physical health. I needed to re-evaluate my state before I spiraled out of control... which I was close to doing-if not already doing-in most areas of my life. Humanity is frail; it's interesting, By interesting I mean arduous. Grueling. Especially for someone who values strength, independence, clarity, and autonomy.

Mikki is organizing her books in chronological order. Who does that? I've seriously considered, many times, putting my books into alphabetical order. Why would someone do that?

If I learn anything from all of this, it will definitely be an expansion on my patience. Oh, how I hate growing in patience.

Ezra, singing, I chimed in for a duet, "Fools said I, you do not know.. silence like a cancer grows" Mikki, less than impressed, barely looked up from amidst her sea of books- she's made quite a mess in her goal for chronological order- and called us fuckers.

generally i like waking up in the middle of the night.

my poetry is often about that warm, comfortable place... when i wake up in the middle of the night i'm always cozy, happy, excited to be alive, thrilled to sleep for a few more hours, but curious about the secrets of early morning.

lately, when i wake up, the stress from the day is carrying over into my sleep. it hangs over my bed like a heavy coat, waiting to be worn again in the morning.

being sick isn't helping my current disposition. i wake up, cough for 20 minutes, writhe around, feel guilty for kicking one of the cats with a flailing leg, desperately search for water in the dark and probably break a dish that i should have put away.

it's hard to find the heart space to care about anything when everything strikes me as completely mundane. i need an attitude adjustment, and it's been difficult to attain.

i wish i could shake this.

New adventure: BEGIN!

Despite recent events that should make me upset, I can't help feeling that I'm sitting on the threshold of a great, and amazing new adventure.

I suppose that's an excellent way to look at turbulence in life.