Thursday, July 7, 2011
I am so tired of being crazy. I swear I am.
I don't think I'm crazy like I was before, four years ago when I couldn't move for panic, I couldn't stop moving for panic. That was fucking crazy.
This is just crazy like the idea of doing anything outside of my routine makes me shudder, makes me want to weep, makes me want to scream out that no, I can't do that, leave me alone!
You can't believe how stressed out I am about planning a trip to Asheville with Lis at the end of the month. I mean, come on- me and Lis and hopefully Hank and we'll be going to visit my daughter in a beautiful city where I know I can walk around in overalls if I want because no one cares? Days where I can write while Lis is taking classes? Meals with Hank and Jessie and Lis?
This is stressful?
Last night my husband spoke to his sister on the phone. His sister whom I love. She has joined a trip club, whatever that is, and she wants us to travel with her some and the idea makes me crazy. I want to want to so badly. One of my very best memories of anything at all is the one I have of the trip we took to New Mexico to meet this sister and another sister who is no longer with us (God, I miss her) and I sat in the back seat and watched these siblings interact and it was so much fun. There was so much love. I sort of felt like a bump on a log but in a good way and every now and then they'd let me have my way with where to eat lunch or something but mostly I didn't have to decide anything, which is what I love.
So why does the idea of going off with my husband and his sister make me crazy?
Because I'm crazy, I guess. I don't want to be this way. I want to be a "normal" person, at least in the sense of being able to leave my property. I am fine, okay, good, with traveling with just Mr. Moon. He knows me, he knows my oddities. He is my lover/traveling buddy/friend/boyfriend/hero/husband. But mostly I always want to go to Cozumel, where I feel almost as at home as I do here at home. Okay, in some ways, more at home than even here at my own, real home. And my poor husband- he's like, Can't we go somewhere else?
But why would I want to? Click here and just look at the first two photos. Makes me weep with wanting.
I went to visit Ms. Radish King this morning and in a comment, someone had posted a link for a video of Frida Kahlo. Here. I shall embed it for you.
Mexico. Mexico. Frida. La Reina de Mexico.
Just watching that, listening to the music with it, it takes me from here and sends me far away.
Frida was certainly not normal, not that I am comparing my sort of crazy with hers. She was genius-crazy, I am your regular garter-snake crazy. Slipping-through-the-grass-of-the-yard-crazy.
I'm sorry. I can't seem to write today. But if you look at those pictures, if you watch that video, you will be getting more than your money's worth from blessourhearts this morning.
Ignore the rest.
Por favor y lo siento.