Wednesday 9:09 pm

Some thoughts right now:

Knee, knee, knee, no knee, no knee. I notice my knee 80% of the time these days, and have even gone a couple hours without noticing it at all. This is an accomplishment. I'm beginning to feel more like a mammal with several parts, rather than a mammal with one part.

9:15

I've been thinking about status updates, likes, filters, hashtags, etc., and questioning how authentic any of these methods of communication are. I find myself writing emails to Facebook friends, asking how they really are, somehow expecting a different kind of truth. A real status update. 

9:24

Part of my "job job" involves perusing lifestyle blogs for inspiration and networking opportunities. These blogs are geared towards white, 30-somethings with a bit of extra money to spend on overly designed childrens' rooms and the perfect pair of burgandy booties. The images within these blogs are aspirational and pristine. Everyone looks too beautiful and skinny and the squeakiest of clean.

I'd like to see some lifestyle blogs dedicated to poor families, struggling middle-class families, non-white people, postal workers, immigrant families, women in the Congo, people on drugs, people who train parrots, people who work at Taco Bell, people who are lonely, people who have 8 jobs to survive, tired people, people who haven't had a break in ages, people who don't want to do their dishes or their hair. I want to see their bedrooms in the morning, their beauty routines, their favorite things right now on the internet.

9:26

And then of course, there's Gem and the Holograms. 

Happenings

Right now:

Due to some recent broken knee hanky panky in the sack, an ache now throbs in my lower right spine. 

Beckett is asking for a kiss and a hug. Her breath smells like sugary pizza and metallic earwax. 

A pile of medical bills sits on my desk. I don't want to pay them. I'd rather do something else with that money. A trip to Tanzania. A pair of walkable shoes. A stocked refrigerator. 

I cannot comfortably spell refrigerator. 

The refrdsgerator hums. The reffridgeator festers.

One fly swarms around my studio occasionally bumping its multiple eyes into the window. 

I bend my knee to 90 degrees, feel my weakened muscles tense and shake, then slowly straighten my leg again. This action is daunting, but necessary. 

A stack of junk mail on my desk awaits shredding. This I will do tomorrow, with my teeth,  as part of my Process Mundane project. 

My grandma Dot sits alone in her house for the first time in her entire life. She will be 90 in a few days. I want the world to show up at her door to celebrate. 

Happenings

Michael and I sit across from one another in our bedroom. He taps on his keyboard. I tap on mine. He faces south. I face north. The curtains are open. Light spills in from the gray outside. It's cold in here. I sniff chilled snot back into my nostrils. March 3rd. The sun opens the sky up for five seconds. It settles into spouting trees and rooftops across the street. It melts away. My abdomen aches a bit from the grief residue that fills our house. Two parents gone in 9 days. His parents. And it wasn't because they loved each other. They divorced 40 years ago and lived in separate states. Coincidence?

“Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see.”

— Carl Jung