Fish food(der)

It has been noted that my attention span can be equated to that of gold fish with a learning disorder. This has been troublesome in the past, particularly with friends.Though I suppose acting like a pet who only wants to be fed sporadically would cause some issue. 
Gluttony at its best: my fish Caitlin died from overfeeding(aka my friend the fish was not named after - cough Jessie - dumped an entire container of fish food into the tank. I'm still bitter about it.)  
And then there are some people for whom portion size has no meaning. I'd join 5 different extra curricular activities just to have an excuse to see them. People who I want to bother relentlessly but realize under regular societal constraints it would come off fairly awkward. 

I hate needing excuses to encounter people. A person with whom I have nose-touching level of friendship calls it "creeping" and I feel it is an adequate expression of our interaction. It's love in the 3rd degree; reminder of the time when waging wars with oven mitts were the only battles worthy of fighting.

I feel tingling in places I'm not supposed to. It is one of the few reminders of the weekly dosage of sunshine and ponies captured in a syringe that makes me wish for rain. 

I know I should be more appreciative. But dammit, being thankful is hard when you fall asleep during the prayer.

Sunshine on tap

There's sunlight pouring through my window. At 9am, it makes me yearn for the curtain I forgot to purchase. At 10am, it makes me thankful for forgetfulness. At noon, it makes me feel like a bum. But that's commonplace, I think.

Body's strewn across the bed like a rag doll with crumpled limbs. Today's temperature melted my resolve and sent me crawling back to bed(with an iced caramel macchiato). I woke up knowing that it would be a war of attrition - my desire for freebies at a festival vs. my obnoxiously frequent guest, weakness. Desire held strong for a while, allowing body over here to paint a seasonal orange squash(pump...kin? yes.) and play holly hostess with some cupcake coupons. Desire's shields, fortified by ample supplies of iced coffee and sugary snacks, dissolved throughout the afternoon. Weakness was quick to strike, sending body back to where weakness resides: cushiony places with rumpled sheets.

Fairness is a dose of tylenol. (I'm not allowed any.)

Let's have some cheese with that w(h)ine - ha. People are still wonderful, faster and longer lasting than  the drugs to sustain me and make me function semi-normally.
Me gusta soar, me gustas tu. (hi dara)

word vomit

(tuesday)
Today I'm feeling pretty damn good. In comparison to yesterday, which shouldn't count as a day. For you see, one of my three (yes, three) anti-nausea meds ran away, and forced me to deal with the terrible feeling of...being nauseous. But just slightly. Just enough to curl up in a ball and never move, but not enough to really do anything about it.
My nausea has a pokerface. I did not call it's bluff because that would just be a ...terrible thing to do. Decided.

I'm in an odd spot right now.

My head is the clearest it's been in days. I should write a novel.

Realization: people are wonderful.

I had missed the slightly operatic sound of collective singing. The sort of songs that fill the empty bellows of your being. The ones that, despite the hiatus, would never let you forget them if you tried.
It carries you as you find yourself echoing words in an unrepentant volume in one of the few places where even the off-key are welcome.

Home is a few words and fewer places. But they all feel right to me.

Goals and Volleys

Today I was the most athletic I have been in months. Or rather, best attempt at athleticism(in months). Let us start there. Chasing down buses(successfully...some of the time) and hurtling towards closing subway doors are activities that simply do not count. 

It was a lovely day at the park. Funnily enough, I actually live next to one and yet have managed to successfully avoid it most of the summer - work reasons or otherwise. Probably had something to do with my exercise abilities going to die there. It was a lovely ceremony, marked by some vomit after some dynamic stretches(really? really? yes. ugh.) Defeated, I put aside my love for the park and walked home, water bottle full and heavy swinging at my side. 

But today there was volleyball. And something about the ability to volley some lightweight synthetic orb over and over again, adjusting position slightly(or not so slightly...bastards) brought me back. Yes, I needed a break or two. or five. Running after a rogue toss was a bit of a strain. I was fortunate enough to have a very patient volleying-partner(our opponents sort of gave up on us and just let us fuck around with the ball for awhile). But all in all, it brought me back to days when my sticky fingers(goalie gloves are good like that) could stop (uh, mostly) anything that came near the net. Then there was the sprint up to the edge of penalty box, pause, look, and a (sometimes) successful punt to a (hopefully) open teammate. Choices. Total control over placement and play. For a brief, shining moment.

Apparently in a few weeks I'll be feeling up to a run. Public gyms are forbidden(people = germs. boo.), but at the very least I should be less inclined to cough every time I exert energy beyond a brisk walk. These are the sorts of constraints that, I imagine, will motivate me to run 5K's when the shenanigans are over. Just to prove to my ol' XC self that those Darlington meets that earned me permanent embarrassment on the cross-country highlight reel were (slightly) worth it. (Picture this: girl in uniform, practically bouncing with outstretched arm towards elderly man with whistle around neck, holding out a curious yellow object. Closeup: inhaler. As non-asthmatic runners zoom by effortlessly, girl shakes inhaler, puffs 2x, hands it back, continues on.) All is not lost.

Goals.