What Prof Kellerman calls "housecleaning":
A) the impromptu casserole* from yesterday (shredded sweet pot, cheese (cottage and cheddar) brown rice, eggs, etc.) was smashingly good and is almost gone, eaten by myself, D and E.
B) right foot is still essentially unwalkable from ankle sprain sustained sometime in brawl, the exact moment obscured by high levels of adrenaline, grief, rage, and the exhilaration of adamant rule breaking. Disgusting? Yes, but the truth will set you free. The swelling hasn't increased but it's starting to bruise a bit more, which saddens me a bit. Still, I predict (with intuition, rather than basis in knowledge, since: I've never sprained my ankle, am dealing with an already very compromised and damaged foot, have not had it checked)
C) First distinct bout of "morning sickness" today in the car, though to be fair I woke up at 8:30, drank a cup of strong coffee delivered by my poor mother who doesn't seem to relate to me at all, and got the wave while in a car swathed in bright sun, on a very hungry stomach, at noon- another scenario which probably would make me woozy regardless (the way it's hard to attribute a "craving" to this condition, as I always develop strong, ardent, yet ultimately transitory food preferences)
D) Boyfriend and I are doing better. He gave me some money today (this is very important to me as a matter of Principle), waited on me hand and foot yesterday (obviously for good reason), and we're getting some "counsel" Thursday afternoon (which is also his birthday). I told him if he lays a hand on me again I'll press charges and call it quits. This seems amenable. I don't expect others to understand, though I like to imagine Fyoder Dostoevsky would, and would even salvage something beautiful in it. Codependency explanations are helpful but in themselves rather shallow. We discussed some "cool-down" procedures for emotional emergencies, such as taking a walk but coming back, going into another room to read or whatever for a prescribed period, etc. He was worried I wouldn't cooperate in the heat of the moment, but I hope I do; it takes two to tango, Lord Have Mercy.**
*
Today after supper D told me that the other David- Hale- demonstrated the same thing to him, where he pointed a rifle at him just to make a flash, the big pop. I was horrified until I realized this transpired before and not after Hale actually shot me during his demonstration. If it was after I would consider them both deranged. Hale was drunk (he was - is? - a lightweight, getting wasted I swear on a can and a half), when he did it, and a shit-eating grin spread across his face moments prior, an expression that haunted me for a long time. My current ankle sprain on the same foot is bringing back- again I'll say it- surprisingly painful memories, keeping it up on many pillows, the weird feelings underneath the wound in the center of my foot, the pain of getting up to hop, and the blood rushing down after having the foot elevated for so long. I never asked or even consented to his "demonstration." I wish him no harm, but perhaps if I thought he was at all happy / remotely thriving, I would feel different: it's human nature, though that's no reason to be complacent about it. The truth is that he gave me a gift. I stepped into a different world when that happened; like Anais Nin, I think, said, each person represents a world in us not possible until they arrived. I've never been the same. I can only imagine how much giving a birth will shake my fragile, impossibly self-centered (when I'm liking myself I see the child-like qualities of openness and innocence, too) no-threshold-at-all for excitement spirit. She'll be there all at once, perhaps she'll sneeze, or squeeze my finger with her tiny hand: What the hell will I make of it? It seems it will send me over the edge in terms of shock. But that is life. Seemingly impossible things happen all the time, and we step into new worlds. There's no need to resist this / I'm lame.
*
I'd like to write a post that isn't entirely or even primarily about me, but it seems difficult. I've been looking at facebook photos with jealousy. I can't help but feel invested in my appearance--not because of impending weight gain, which may be hard but I don't think it will be too much, except for perhaps that notorious, awkward in-between phase (Is she ... or just fat?? But I don't know, because I've never actually been overweight, so this will be a first & though I suppose it doesn't "count" it surely is a glimpse: and it's a kind of gain a woman can do little to curtail: pregnancy, left untreated, leads to infants as the eponymous character in "Juno" pointed out, and they stretch out that belly whether or not you rise to the nutritional challenge), but because I'm "passing on my genes," which some say is a selfish act and I did it, again, more on a whim, out of a better-now-than-never mentality than any cherished belief that I have particularly good ones.
It's my nature to feel like an outsider; I know that's cliche and even uninteresting but it's true and I'm not sure how else to put it. People in their Facebook photos, no matter how contrived the scenarios may actually be, easily convince me that they're having all kinds of fun, have infinite friends, and effortlessly stick straight, high lighted hair. Obviously most people have easier temperaments than me but I need to remember that a lot of work goes into a lot of this posing. Maybe. I don't want to care so much about what people think because I want to be a good role model for my child. I know both my parents were very insecure and this obviously affected me.
But I don't want to care about feeling hip, socially (or otherwise) triumphant, free, or happy. I want to care about being good. I'm tired of seeking "techniques" for controlling reality, scouring my exact-birth-time computer generated horoscope, computer tarot cards (though as I write this, I realize that I'm about to go get a free online tarot reading. I suppose it's not as good as done just because I got a pang of longing), etc. It's not that I believe these arts are inherently evil - I actually hold with the belief that tarot and astrology were once closely aligned with, and considered not mutually destructive with -oh, the syntax! the syntax syntax syntax syntax! (variation on Poe's 'the bells,' - did his last name give him a one-up? / wow, I'm really on fire today..)
Ah, who can resist this kind of thing, if only for its poetry:
"The card at the right of the cross represents an approaching influence or something to be embraced. Rada Mambo (Queen of Swords): The essence of air behaving as water, such as a refreshing mist: A person gifted with both keen logic and natural intuition, giving them uncanny powers of perception and insight. One who easily sees past deception and confusion to the heart of a matter, and understands both sides of any argument. The embodiment of calm, forthrightness, and wit, in the face of even the most trying circumstances." from http://www.facade.com/tarot <-- you go to this link, and ask a question, choose your spread. I would unclick "reversals," because whatever that means, it seems to generate a lot of negativity. "Air behaving as water" ! and there are all sorts of other elemental variations. I asked "will the baby be nice?" Anyway, I am lost in a world of Tarot now, in which everything seems spooky, but also beautiful, and I remembered that becoming a mother is a deeply creative act. Enough intellectualization. I ought to cut myself off until I'm graceful enough to speak in verse, even if it's narcissistic prose, as long as it pays some homage to the archetypes, the moon, and - last but certainly not least - the Holy Spirit.
What I mean by the absurd phrase "being good," by the way, means doing what I ought, choosing based on spiritual ideals rather than whims and emotional dependencies, and letting go of what I must, making the best possible decisions based on the information that I have (a pet qualifier of both D & I), not first thinking of myself, but God, other people, and than me- on the faith principle that this will inevitably be best for me. Perhaps something deeply traumatic may go down. But I ought to seek to know no more, just prepare for things that anyone must prepare for, with common sense (like getting a crib, contemplating further education in the next few years, going to appointments) as opposed to trying to win weird psychic battles with other damaged individuals.
God Bless
P.S.
* I don't use recipes, like ever, and am hit or miss, with flair. I think cooking is pretty sexy AND fulfilling and plan to get more disciplined about it as my family expands rotflmao. But seriously.
** My Dad warned me against what I believe Apostle Paul called idle prayers, spoken by the lips without the heart, what was it: oh yes, "vain repetitions." But Paul also said, Whatsoever is good, whatsoever is pure, etc... focus on these things. Fine lines, as always.
