For the trillionth time in my life, Tori Amos is the only force that makes sense.
That's the sentence I planned to start this entry with, when I logged on, over an hour ago. But it's not entirely true. I have many firm (or nearly firm) truths in my life these days. Things that make sense to me, things I could almost count on, if I decided to bother with numbers. It's just that this feels a little true - a lot true when she leaves words behind and stretches into the far end of my own vocal range. And the things that are actually, entirely true - like the fact that my room smells like dog food despite the fact that I don't have a dog, or food for a dog (but smells often creep up here from downstairs, and I've been a vegetarian long enough that some perfectly decent, human-oriented meat dish would probably strike my nostrils as unfit for homo sapiens. nevertheless, the smell strikes me as noxious; nevertheless, that's really not the most thrilling treasure of personal introspection/ excavation to share. So far as I can tell, at least.
Today's been pretty quiet; I blew off a slight urge to go do something - take in a movie, perhaps; there are several intriguing sidestream films playing, and I'd rather not miss them all - to take the crash day I've mentione needing so often over the past few days. I got in a good nap, with the help of some anxiety meds, played a few card games with my mom, and only got overly-excited when I treated a migraine with a Coke, and my anxiety meds (twice in one day; that hasn't happened in awhile) didn't quite neutralize the caffeine. Damn. I'm not writhing in migraine agony, though, so I'll deal with the added foot-jiggling etc. I just hope it doesn't invade on my blessed sleep. Beloved, darling sleep. I've been working too hard lately, or rather, life has required me to work too hard. But I think I'm doing well with keeping an eye on things and not going overboard (even if I do lean a bit dangerously over the side at times..."ooh, ocean" etc). Curbed a sudden urge to contact a few people I haven't spoken with in awhile, in a potentially caretaking manner, by limiting it to one and someone who wasn't so far in my past or so out of the blue. I'm really focused on looking in the mirror. I want my image in a photograph to quit being more unnerving than my voice on a recording. More importantly, I want to be ok with looking 19. So, I've been making many a funny face and striking many a silly pose to start getting used to this appearance. Eventually, I'd like to look into how I'm going to get used to the other aspects of this body (appearance not being the entirety of physical self, no matter what the media-devils would have you believe) - and how I'm going to feel strong again without getting tied up in compuslive exercise. I didn't like feeling so weak and inept on the frolf course the other day. And I know that those feelings are mainly rooted in places that have psychological roots, but I also know how awesome it felt to be physically active: to climb thirty feet into the air, to pull myself up a pole using foam handholds and strength I didn't know I have, to bike until my leg muscles roared. I want something like that again.
Maybe I'll finally buy myself a skip-it. Encourage giddiness in the part of me that's still a kiddle and have a simple, unique, but nevertheless physical activity at the same time. And one I can do anxiety aside. Well, assuming I can leave the apartment. I don't know how my mom would take to skip-it inside. We'll see. I'm still examining options at the moment.
Speaking of acting all my different ages, I felt so marvelously like a teenager tonight. Not only did I watch television (flipping fanatically back and forth between Gilmore Girls and American Idol - because the two shows have to oppose each other, just to make my life more difficult) but I (once again; I admit I've been doing this for a few weeks now) called and voted for my AI favorites more times than I'd like to admit. Hee hee. I admitted to the obsession in my diaryrings (finally), while personally giggling at it. I mentioned the feeling to my mom, citing some Steph wisdom about how it's grand to be mature for your age, but if it ever looks fun to be sixteen (which I was at the time), feel free to act your age. Or in this case, three years younger, an age you sort of missed. My mom emphatically agreed, which surprised me for some reason and made me even happier. ...I also e-quested my brother's song, but they didn't play it today. I will try again, and I will actually call in the request if I have to; anxiety be damned.
I want to read tomorrow. My oldest brother gave me a book for my birthday that's some fairly sweet fantasy series. It makes me appreciate Tolkien more than I did upon actually reading him. Which seems like a sucky compliment: "Your own writing drove me mad, but your effect on the genre is undeniable and genuinely awesome." Maybe it's not so awful. I love his characters afterward, his storylines. Just not the endless description of the blades of grass that make up the clearing in the middle of the wood in which we've come to know every vein of every leaf on every tree, et cetera. ...There are other things I need/ want to do, but I can't think of them at the moment. E-mail my sister. I definitely need to e-mail my sister. Buy Melissa Ferrick tickets, after certifying my mommy is interested in attending. (Someday, I will go to a concert with a friend or transgenetic family member. Someday, I will have friends with whom I can watch cheesy movies about vampire pirates without feeling stupid. Or at least, feeling silly in good company. It's funny the things a girl can want if you lock her up long enough.)
So, no long rambling thought processes tonight. I'm not thinking. I'm just smiling and forming sentences and listening to Tori, who may not be the only creature/ force that makes sense in my life right now, but whom I still very, very much appreciate. Mmm, Tori. Excuse me while I curl up in your chords.
~me