Not enough sleep for weeks is getting to me. I’ve been here before–the point where my memory is going. My spirits are ok, but it’s hard to hold onto a thought. I’m kind of dizzy. I get more dream-bits than usual while I’m awake. Cooking seems difficult like it’s easier not to eat.
There’s some stuff I want to do but I don’t want to hype myself up any more than I am. Ming said I seem ok–I’m not doing drastically different things. He said I’m drinking tea, not whiskey. I’m doing my things, like writing a lot. It’s me, just with erratic energy.
This morning I had sorting energy. I went through some stationery and stuff by my desk, asked Ming to put a backpack in the closet. Then I tried to sleep. My body is having an issue, like anxiety without the anxiety. It’s in some kind of loop, stressed by stressing itself.
I’ve been listening to music. I woke up wanting to listen to Cat Power’s What Would the Community Think. Then I moved on to Sufjan Stevens, two different albums. I listened to Le Tigre’s Feminist Sweepstakes until I got to the song I hate.
Then I wanted to hear my favorite song from St Matthew’s Passion. But I had no idea what it’s called. The tracks are listed in German. That super soulful one. One of the disciples, I think, crying about the crucifiction?
“Is listening to Bach drinking whiskey?” I asked Ming.
“What?” he asked.
“Should I stop because I’m not being characteristic?”
He didn’t answer me. He was in the shower when our friend called. He was dressing to deal with whatever difficulty was going on with the repair of the toilet in the back house.
After some research, I learned it’s about sin. Mache dich, mein Herze, rein
I was sad about Thanksgiving. Nostalgia for a thing that never existed. Unwanted changes, loss of a past that never worked great for me, but at least there was a chance.
Thanksgiving–the bustling energy always bothered me. It was cool to make a big feast, but I remember my parents having a little conflict. In a way I liked the traditions and their attendant expectations, but in a way it was so much work and I wanted to throw it out the window. Let’s make a new tradition that’s more low-key.
I was working on a course I’m doing online. The instructor was telling me stuff in the video, and I was talking back, having conflict with her. She thinks I have a lot of difficulties I don’t have. Ming heard me talking back to the video, and he looked at me weird. I think he was surprised by my strong feelings.
My theme lately is about feeling like the freak of the world. I told Ming how the instructor was speaking to someone who wasn’t me. But I’m trying to get what I can out of it anyway. Speaking back to the videos is a way for me to feel less passive and sad. Videos can make me feel like a sad couch potato.
I asked Ming, Am I not the intended audience for anything in the world? That question felt good to ask, even if I didn’t like the answer.
I want to love the vulnerable person I am who’s open and giving. But sometimes I want to crawl into a hole and care for the vulnerable person who isn’t understood or honored. Bouncing between kindness to me and being who I am, to hating on me and wishing to hide, is kind of annoying.
Bach doesn’t understand me either, and that weirdo probably would think I was a detestable witch, but something about the longing of the music, I feel he did understand me.