brazen wings

I painted a picture last night. A real live picture, at least it was during the time that I was painting it. Well, not so much a picture as colorful swirly greens of any variety possible, but definitely not all the imaginable greens. To be able to put all of the imaginable greens into one small painting on a small piece of printer paper would take years and an intense amount of very satisfying effort. An effort I don’t think I have the energy for at the moment. But it’s a thought.

If you’ve seen my “wall of art” beside my very messy, crayon, paper and dead flowers in a vase “office” ( also known as the left hand corner of the living room if you happen to be facing the window), you’ll understand what I mean when I say painting. Concept stretched from crayon top crayon and ink to watercolor and ink.

It’s 11:42 am and I’m at work. Waiting for the phone to ring. I’m always on edge when I wait for the phone to ring. I can’t relax if something might be about to happen. Sometimes nobody calls during the day, but I still have at least a mildly stressful day, just waiting for the phone to ring, knowing that I could be interrupted from my emotional reverie/ breakdown at any time. And I hate being interrupted while I’m doing anything. Unless it’s a happy interruption, the definition of which escapes me right now.

The left side of my face is kind of numb/ twitchy. I ate strange tasting sweet pickles last night, so maybe I have botulism. Either that, or I’m just having zoloft withdrawl symptoms. I’m hoping for the latter, really, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry that something horrible is currently happening inside of my body.When you can’t deal with trauma and too much in the outside world, you might internalize, and feel that even your own body is attacking and failing you. At least, that’s how I tend to deal with my problems.

I’m also quite tired in a weighty sort of way, and considering the way my abdomen and lower back seem to have constant aching, I’m most likely in a lovely bout of PMS. Which I still find an odd thing, as my period have had a tendency to get worse as I get older. When I was younger, cramps were almost unnoticeable, and back aches, exhaustion, and lack of appetite weren’t any kind of issue. Now, for about the last six or seven years, my cramps have sometimes been so bad that I’ve had to leave work doubled over, seeing stars spin because I was in so much pain. As stress and doubt have increased, so have physical responses to brain crazy. Of course. Which all makes sense.

I stole some of my roommate’s cheerios this morning. I should tell her, but I hate confrontation, so I may not tell her. One day.
Other rommmate just woke up as I was chasing a fly through the apartment, trying to get it to go back outside. We seem to have way too many flies and moths…what are they trying to tell us in their quiet rustling messages fluttered through brazen wings?