Tagged: beinglizardek

I want to write, but I can’t seem to get going. I can’t seem to find a subject or a story or a line of words in a row that will stoke the engine and prime the pump. Have I run out of words or just out of steam? Maybe I’m just in reading mode. Maybe I have lost a part or worn it out. There’s no ork in me. I like the word ork. I can’t even think what the correct translation is in English. It’s not really motivation, and it’s not really energy, although it has elements of...

What I want and what I give myself are not the same things, most of the time, and to my chagrin. What I really want, more than anything else, RIGHT NOW, right this minute, is to fall asleep and slumber darksomely without interruption for 24 hours. At least. At the very, very least. I suspect 3 days of solid sleep would be even better and go much further toward restoring me to my true self. A self that is relaxed, gentle, generous, motivated, amusing, creative, sexy and efficient. Also, fair of face. Also, full of grace. Also, able to leap...

Did you know what you wanted to be when you grew up? Did you know what you wanted to do with your life? Did you have a plan? Have you followed it or has it veered unexpectedly? I never did. I still don’t. It’s not that I don’t like who and where I am, but these days I feel I have lost a way I never knew I was on. Or else I’m veering.* Which way is the real question, though. Which way? Really Great Writing Out There Right Now: On End *or else I’m tired.

Having a work laptop at home is not good. Well, I mean it is good for getting WORK done. But here it is Saturday night at 10 p.m. and I have been working since 1 p.m., nearly nonstop. With only mini-breaks for a load of laundry, dinner and a walk to the nursery to buy potted purple tulips and a glorious golden-orange begonia, and to write this journal entry. I have had a headache for nearly 24 hours because I picked up new eyeglasses yesterday. I was not amused last November when I finally got new glasses after 4 years...

I fight my inner packrat constantly. I can’t remember if it was before or after my father died that my mom told us that he, a notorious and shameless packrat of the First Order, had refused to throw away, among other equally horrifying things, boxes of moldy college textbooks from the 60s that had been caught in a basement-flooding years ago and 10-year old road maps and box after box of computer cables and ports and parts. Boxes of pens. Boxes of paper. Boxes of old magazines. I don’t think my father ever threw anything away that he thought might...

The inside of my elbow joints hurt when I straighten my arms. Is it: a) a sign of too much online journaling b) a sign of too much web-surfing c) a sign of too much work on the computer (yes, I do actually do work at the computer) d) a sign of rain e) a sign of aging f) a sign of stress g) all of the above h) tennis elbow. shut up! It could happen. I have my work laptop set up on the dining room table and I am flitting (yes! flit! flutter!) back and forth between the...

It keeps adding up and piling on and never-ending. Do I have a task magnet stuck on me? *swipes at clothing* Doing my own work, plus half the work of a missing colleague is beginning to take its toll and its only been 2 weeks, though there’s no near end in sight at the moment. Right before I left the office, running late, 2 people discussing and arguing and NOT GETTING OUT OF MY WAY so I could leave made me feel as though my blood pressure was actually surging and starting to short me out like a freaky fuse....

You really are the best innernets a girl could ever have. I have a few friends who are chronic cancellers and I have to admit, I’ve grown tired of pretending to be okay with it when it happens…AGAIN. And the thing is, I’m sometimes guilty of the very same thing, although not with these particular friends. I can think of at least 2 people (although I wouldn’t go so far as to call them FRIENDS. Not like you. YOU’RE friends. And you’re pretty, to boot. Did you lose weight?) who could probably pick the very same bone with me. It’s...

My hands are a lot more wrinkled now than they used to be. They’re starting to look like my mom’s hands, full of soft ridges and character. I keep my fingernails fairly short nowadays, after years of growing them long because I could. Small white crescents above a flattened jujubee of pale pink. I remember once realizing that I had vertical ridges in my fingernails, and being told that it was a lack of iron that caused it. That, along with chewing ice, were the outward signs of a deficiency I apparently solved or grew out of, since neither one...