I woke up bleeding - the first of two periods I will be getting this month (the second will happen right before Halloween). Feeling better today now that the PMS has abated (this time's PMS, in addition to making me feel sad, also made me feel obsessive compulsive - about weird tidying and organizing and poeming).
A friend of mine sent me an online note last night, mentioning that he wished he would have seen me more in 2011 - which made me think something like, 'Um hello mister. Do three months not really mean much? Do three months not really count? Because 2011 still has three months left within it.'
Which then got me thinking that if 2011 is already almost over by some people's standards, then it would also already be almost two years since my carotid artery dissection/aneurisms/stroke/aphasia - and almost one year (same day) since my divorce.
2011 is NOT almost over by my standards; three months sure move fast (whole years sure move fast too) but are still a substantial amount of time - and who know what could happen? I sure don't like thinking/acting as if whole months of time barely even exist. I don't like moving too fast; but I also don't like moving way too slow. After all, nobody knows exactly how much time they have remaining. One month might feel like almost nothing or very substantial or a fusion of both. For me, every month feels/is substantial and important in its own odd way.
On a semi-related note, I felt a bit annoyed recently when a young male friend of mine informed me that I was almost 40. Hello, I will be turning 39 this month, dingbat. I don't think most women who will soon be turning 39, but have not yet, desire to be called 'almost 40', as if a whole year barely even exists! This seems to indicate that whole months barely even exist all the way up to twelve months! Stop talking/acting like that in front of me! I don't like it!
It all exists people. It all exists in one way or another. Don't act as if nothing really/truely matters much; not even your/my/our remaining time. Don't continually waste time and then be surprised by what you might suddenly lose (you/me/us) - because maybe it's not that sudden if you have been wasting time and ignoring things for months upon months.
I exist. My life exists. My ups & downs exist. My whitening hair exists. My weird poetry modes exist. My 38 soon to turn 39 (but not almost 40 yet) age exists. Every inch of my remaining time still exists. My strong desire to be passionate and productive still exists and will for the rest of my life (despite occassional zoned-out modes).
I still have trouble with math, shapes, sizes, cooking directions, and lots of easy little words (and I'm not going to stop talking about those difficulties as though they no longer exist, because they certainly do) - and maybe that's going to be my brain for the rest of my life now (and I wonder if it is partially my own fault. did I maybe not focus on the right kind of therapy enough? did I not try hard enough in certain regards? did I focus on the wrong things?) - and sometimes that really does trouble me, upset me, stress me out, and make me a feel a bit oddly inferior. But I'm alive, I exist, I have strengths. I sure have annoying spelling issues though, for someone who used to be a great speller. Did I spell inferior wrong? I'm not sure. My mind had a title for this blog entry, but I couldn't spell several of the words, so as of right now, it has know title, and I'll probably think of a different one.
The title WAS going to be Bloody Wailing Banche - except that the second and third words are probably spelled wrong. Is it Wailing or Waleing or neither of those? Is it Banche or Banshe or Banshee or none of those? Is it Whaling or Whaleing or Whale-ing? I don't know. I'll stop. But speaking of one kind of Whale, I'm quite delighted that my poem 'Sink or Float [quick fix witch]' made number 14 of this fabulous Whale Sound Top 20 list. Yay!