Phone calls and bowling balls

What a morning!
So much for my getting any sleep...

It all started with Amelie chaffing at the bit to go outside. Once I was up I had a hard time getting back to bed. Just as I relented and had barely dozed off... Speckles decided, by the sounds of it - to play 10 pin down the hallway! Like a bowling ball rolling - the floor rumbled like inside an alley during some 'early' morning tournament. Between each of my sleepy groans of protest - she continued to play. Then the other dog began licking whatever exposed limbs I had, as I tugged at the comforter for cover. Even my lazy handed attempts at a belly rub wouldn't satisfy her enough to let me be. Finally, when the phone rang with the usual 'wrong number' (an equally annoying occurrance lately) I gave in to my
fate. Despite my hazy protest I was begrudgingly AWAKE.

I never did find the source of Speckles game (which I thought surely was some dredged-up
massive bone giving her chase). So, to everyone that meets the misfortune of my contact today... forgive me for being cranky, though the reason why is no mystery. I'm just bloody tired, that's all.

PS: After trying an assortment of browsers I was finally able to make this post.
Heads up! I'll be moving to Wordpress shortly.
..Go figure.

Isn't she lovely?

Having just been sent some digital pictures from Amelie's last visit to 'sugar-free grandma's', I thought I'd post one to share with you.

I Long to Be...

I had those god-awful bad dreams again. I woke up so upset with myself at 6AM and didn't want to go back to sleep. I was made to feel like nothing at all, without love and powerless, thinking I'd rather be dead than feel all this again. I hate them so much. The never-ending nagging headache I've got tops it all off.

I've restarted my super list. My end-all, beat-all ultimate list of lists. I've distanced myself from my nightmare some what, so I'm pushing forward as the day wears on. When I can't concentrate or participate I need a plan to follow. Create order where I feel there is none. I guess it helps to know I'm up to something. Each check mark reminds me I accomplished a bit for the day. Each deed creates a purpose so that I might belong.

Elation and exaspiration

Creative turmoil. Having the ability without the means. The process to bring my art into fruition meets many roadblocks. Even lacking a simple table proves an obstacle. Also age feels a burden these days. If I were younger I'd have grown up in a world with better access to the tools and steps required to meet my potential. All I know is how being so naive and anxious drowned countless opportunity. I admit it all sounds a bit whiney, and it is.

Have you ever had a huge desire to learn, everything? The manic plight of being pulled into many directions, a-buzz with ideas and a laughably inexistent focus to achieve a single one? All I really need is a plan. A path to follow. But pouring myself into a dream starts that drowning feeling. Pretty soon I'm gasping for air, stranded on a desolate beach somewhere, very singular and feeling dire. Elation and exasperation. But my art is not brooding or sober to the plight of mankind. It isn't heavy so the angst this routine provides doesn't fuel my artistic fire. It's silly and playful and meant to be buoyant. Drat that sinking gravity when it pulls me under.

Heck, I'm being melodramatic and I know it. That's my nature.

Life rushes by. How do you get a handle on it?