Nano news, nano blues

It’d all over but the final frantic sibilance as scribblers everywhere rush to finish.

I am done.

Oh yes, and early. I told my sweetheart, and now he wants to read it. But there are things in there that might make him feel bad. Like hard dicks. In fact, there are quite a few. Including one beloning to a character quite like him, in form and feature. So I am in a quandary.

I am learning how to express myself without restriction–

And yet I am restricted by my dueling impulses to have my work read, to obtain my  sweeties approval, and to not hurt my his feelings, or provide evidence of some paranoid conviction that I am unsatisfied with him.

I am,

but not because of his dick. It’s more the way he is because of his dick. Or maybe his dick is like that because of the way he is. But it’s that part, that part, that shamed, self-hating, toxic, corrosive part that is the problem.

And it’s really like, who am I to complain? That’s his cross to bear, and he has to deal with it.

But I have this other set of dueling impulses, one of which is my desire to be around him and the other, which is to get away from the toxicity.

Sucks. But anyway, I tried to figure out how the hot guy could have ED. Or maybe the hot guy (who so resembles my lover), could pop a quick Viagra before the love scene.

Or I could let him read it the way it is. But I have no wish to hurt him. Maybe I should say, he’s a grown up, and he can handle it.

Decisions, decisions…

Why don’t I…

What is it with resistance? What is it with talent wasted? Why, if I am good at something, value that thing, and want to expand it, am I so helpless in the face of my own — inertia is not the right word, or maybe it is. Inertia is the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest, and one in motion to remain in motion. I remain at rest. Terminally. Maybe it’s ADD. When I suggested to my therapist that maybe I had, like, shadow ADD, she laughed at me (seriously – she laughed). Shadow? she chortled. Honey, you have full-blown ADD. You are the poster child for ADD!

Well, fuck. She thought I should get tested and get medicated. She insists there are very high-level medications now that target specific areas of the brain. She says some areas do not grow up, do not develop at the same rate as others. Children have a lot of success with the new meds; once they “get it” about how it feels to be in sync, the adjust, and they re-integrate, and the are OK (or at least that’s what I think she said).

So why are all the ADD kids I know drug addicts? Maybe she has a special line to the hot and new in the medical world. She treats kids more, but she’s an art therapist, so I like her. (As soon as I have insurance again, I will go back.) My homeopath laughed at getting tested. What do you need a diagnosis for? he said. So they can give you Ritalin? Clearly, he is on the same newsfeed as I am. Maybe I do want Ritalin (I know I don’t; just sayin’), maybe I do. I remember speed, back inthe drug days of the 70’s. I loved speed. Unfortunately, Speed Kills is not just a bumper sticker; it is a harsh and vicious reality. No, speed is deadly. But something about that experience feels perfect.On the other hand, i cannot do any kind of sedatives. I hate them. I feel like I am underwater.

Most of the time I am so tired I can’t do anything, so I just watch as the crap piles up and falls over and think, wow, that’s falling over. Maybe I will sort of stack up the pile a little better. But that’s about it.

So, dancing? Ha. Writing? Well, arguably, yes, I am writing now, and I am doing nanowrimo, so I am better off than I have been, but still: Ha. This blog is my free space, where I can say whatever the fuck I want because it is not connected to me. My name is not on here, so fuck you, you don’t know me and if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

There. I wish I had the courage to put my name on here, and sooner or later i will, because face it, I am a big showoff, but for now, I can experiment in peace. And I like it being on this blog, where other people can read it and find it it they need to, so it is public, but private, because no one knows me, or my family, or my friends. I don’t have to worry that so and so will take offense at something I say. They will never read it, and if they do, they can’t prove I said it, so HA!

Even in my fiction i worry. I can’t talk about what i really want, what’s on my mind, because those people who are on my mind might be hurt by things I say.

So anyway, back to my problems, because hey, this is all about ME now, isn’t it. Or maybe it’s about you, maybe you have this problem too; in that case it’s about us.

So maybe all my problems would be solved by medication. I like that idea; it’s easy. No work on my part. The homeopath and acupuncturists have actually improved my situation with medication, but there is a crucial difference. I Dislike the the thought of taking something every day, a symptomatic remedy as opposed to a cure. My acupuncturists and homeopath, they are making me truly more well through transformative medicine. I am all for this. And I used to be worse. This is better (I am writing, am I not?). But there is still so far to go.

And dance, what I really want to improve, is moldering. Time is not on my side. Time is a sword in my side. Dance has a short shelf life. Indecision cripples me, inaction cripples me (literally). Illness cripples me and I can’t seem to shake it. It’s getting harder. The voices say, just give it up. You never practice. You suck. But I don’t suck, and I know that. I don’t practice either. I know that, too. What a vicious circle. Would ADD medication help this? If so, give me some. If not, give me something.