Oscar and the Meteorological Apparatus

Me? I'll be watching the Oscars tonight wondering why I don't know 90% of these actors.

Then I'll remember it's because I just don't remember them, and I'll keep watching.

Then I'll eat more apple pie and have another beer, and maybe recognize Tom Hanks or - who knows - Macaulay Culkin in the front rows and go: 'Ohhhhh! Heeeey! I know them!'

And then we'll drive back home and I'll go to bed and I'll dream of people shaking barometers again.

State of the Mindset Address.

I subscribed to this years ago, just for the heck of it. And now, it is spewing things at me. This was my horoscope for today:

"For a few weeks now you have understood that each day brings its share of constraints. For example, today you may feel doubts about your physical appearance. Are you questioning your attractiveness, or your ability to make an impression on someone special? Did you use bad judgment at some point, and are now afraid that you've hurt your reputation? A decision you make at the end of the day will relieve all these anxieties."

Now, let me make things clear.

a) I now understand the meaning of constraints. Work is more than I bargained for.

b) My physical appearance. Yeah. See the post dated January 19th. I am not questioning my attractiveness. At all. I am simply uncomfortable in my current physical state. And I am taking steps to alleviate this uneasiness. My fucking clothes don’t fit, for crying out loud. I’ve got that muffin-top look. But I also realize that seven months of pregnancy don’t go away instantly. I need a hug. I need someone to tell me it’s okay to be insecure. The only problem is (and I do not know why I did this), I’ve been bragging that I don’t care what I look like.

c) I used bad judgment several times since my return to work. No one's complained about this, but it’s my job to fix it. Now. And a week ago. I hope no one hates me for it. Then again, I’m not there to please anyone, I’m there to do my job.

d) A decision at the end of the day? Uh-huh. A martini.

"Balade à Toronto"

« Le temps passe
Et un jour
On est vieux et puis seul
Et rien ne reste plus
Que la fierté d’avoir aimé correctement
Ou la honte et les tourments
De ne pas avoir compris
Attends
Attends
J’ai quelque chose à te dire »

- Jean Leloup

Out of the Frying Pan.

Whew! I am surfacing now. Ahhhh.

I am surfacing because it is Friday Night. I am allowing myself to stop thinking about work, having a few beers, and taking it easy. I have been back at work for the past two weeks, and I’ve achieved more in this short time span than I had for the past three months. Granted, the past three months’ progress was mainly measured in knitting. This is significant progress I am feeling when I get home, now that I am actually contributing something to others. This progress is the kind that makes you satisfied at the end of the day.

Unfortunately, this is also the progress that has been keeping me up in the middle of the night. It is not my job I am thinking about: it is merely the stimulation of the day’s work that is keeping my mind creating and thinking too much. I did not anticipate this reaction.

I have tried counting to two hundred. I have tried counting backwards from two hundred. I did it five times the other night. Not helpful. I got to the point where I thought if I made it as slow as possible, I would fall asleep. I’d count every time I breathed in and out. Breathe in slowly, one. Breathe out slowly, one and a half. Breathe in, two. Breathe out, two and a half.

I also tried remembering the lyrics to a song I heard in a movie, but this just got me all revved up and making up lyrics of my own. I got way too creative, and before I knew it, what started out as an actual lullaby in a movie had turned out to be a techno hit in my mind, complete with synth beats and progressions. This made my sleeplessness even more upsetting and, in the end, a stressful and awakening experience. The weird thing is, I think I actually composed a potential hit. It was freaking good! My toes were wiggling, my heart was racing, it was almost like I was on some dance floor in a smoky, crowded club. Not a very calming method. I should have just gotten dressed and headed out the closest club to dance it off.

After speaking to a friend about my trouble sleeping, I resorted, the next night, to her method of imagining a calming setting. I ended up, after much trouble visualizing my quiet space, in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, right by a lake. I was sitting in a huge, plushy cushioned, comfortable chair, looking at the small, slow waves licking my own private beach. The air was filled with the smell of grass and earth and the distant buzzing of crickets. I think I had a martini right on the armrest of this Adirondack-like chair. I could feel the sun on my legs. It was wonderful, and not unlike something I have actually experienced. I looked right, and there was a thick forest of pine trees and ferns. I turned my head slowly, breathing a long breath of contentment, and looked left.

The alarm clock read 3:30 a.m.