obsessively cold day

I got my brain a little overly worked up and worried (and obsessive and borderline paranoid) about the weather last night.

I opened most of my cupboards, hoping that none of my pipes would get frozen or burst. I turned my heat up one extra degree, just in case I LOST my heat, so that my house wouldn't quickly turn freezing.

Early Wednesday morning is my neighborhood's trash pick up day and I wasn't sure if I should even put my trash can out, because in addition to the coldness and wind chill, I wasn't sure if it was going to be too windy and I certainly did not want to walk around in the freezing cold looking for a trash can that got blown away. I probably wouldn't have even put it out, but my parents had stuck a big trash bag of theirs into my trash can - and since I only have one trash can now (do to my other one blowing away a few weeks ago), if I had not put it out this week, I would have accumulated too much garbage to fit in my one trash can next week. So I ended up taking it out earlier than usual, before it got really cold, but then I kept obsessively checking the weather and worrying about it blowing away.

Then I got myself so obsessed and paranoid about the weather (while reading warnings about frostbite and hypothermia and death) that I started over-worrying/over-imagining what if I went outside to bring my trash back in, had a seizure while outside in minus zero temps with -30 wind chill, passed out in the snow, and died.

I don't even like snow.

Snow is my idea of hell, because it escalates the obsessive anxious bad parts of my brain (what if this happens? what if this happens? what if this happens? what if this happens? what if? what if? what if? what if? what if?).

(I've also had some what if? what if? what if? uncomfortable thoughts going on about my health lately, but I don't feel like typing about that.) 

At least I was able to work some of my obsessively wind chill focused brain waves into some poem lines late last night.

I also kept thinking (and still am) about homeless people being outside during these temperatures.

I didn't sleep very well last night. I think I had been in bed for about two hours before some odd sound woke me up. It sounded like something was repeatedly rattling and rolling around outside and I was worried it was my trash can, and I couldn't fall back asleep.

On at least two different occasions, I got up, put on a coat, hat, and thick gloves, and went outside to open my garage door and check that my trash can was still intact where I had placed it. It was, so I'm not sure what was repeatedly rolling around. Then a few hours later, still barely sleeping, I heard the garbage truck coming by, so I put my hat and coat and gloves on again and moved my emptied trash can into my garage.

After that, I was able to sleep a LITTLE better.

Shortly after I got up, I looked out my screen door window and saw another empty trash can (not mine) down on the ground in front of the side door of my garage, so then I wasn't sure whether to go outside again and put that one in my garage too or just leave it where it was. I ended up going out and moving it a little farther forward (instead of leaving it right in front of my side door) so that hopefully whoever's can it was might see it there. I probably would have put it in my garage if it had been windy, but it wasn't too windy at that point in time, and hopefully it doesn't get all windy tonight and blow onto the street and cause a car accident, because I don't want to go outside again, and risk having a seizure in the snow.

Yes this is how my brain works sometimes, but at least it didn't escalate to the point of panic mode.

paranoia/poetry

I seem to be experiencing a bit of a paranoid streak, especially about people suddenly/unexpectedly losing interest in me - and how am I to know when that might happen or why?

Perhaps this is semi-related to being a semi-recently divorced woman who feels emotionally uncertain about love and even about significant relationships - but who really craves love and an intense relationship with the right individual- but who knows that even longterm love and intensity might suddenly/unexpectedly ebb.

It worries me (maybe too much) if someone I am involved with and feel strongly about seems to suddenly diverge from frequent, intense correspondence to less frequent, intense correspondence. He might just be having an odd spell or a small episode of a bad series of days, BUT it makes me wonder if I somehow unexpectedly managed to turn him off. If so, I wish he would tell me why/how, instead of just keeping it to himself.

Even if I didn't do anything that turned him off; even if less correspondence is not related to lack of interest, I also don't want a man I feel super-strongly and intensely about to be one of those sorts who turns it down after he thinks he's gotten a woman who really likes him. I would much rather have a man who turns it up up UP as the relationship gets more significant.

I do seem to have a paranoid streak about relationships suddenly/unexpectedly ending and this fused with my insecurity issues might make me a tough woman to deal with for many men. But I don't want many men - and I don't want a man who wants many women. I want a special, creative, darkly delicious morsel of a man who truly wants me back & forth and who often tries his best to convince me of such.

I seem to be worrying too much about possible ebbings instead of focusing on wonderfully positive presents.

Please don't give up.

******

Here is a poem from my Thirteen Designer Vaginas chapbook -

Designer Vagina

I got sucked into a black hole
of sensation, tied up with pretty pink rib-
bon. I need to find out if I’m tightly bound
or decorated; intact or slaveringly masticated
bonbon. Inside my designer gift box,
am I tied down or am I a good time release
capsule? If he doesn’t deserve the present;
if he’s stuck in his desire for the past, then should I
wish to be unwrapped by someone who is wishing for me?
All these frills and frayed edges don’t come cheap


I read that piece at a very fun-filled poetry reading I participated in this past weekend with my scrumpdelicious poet friend Margaret Bashaar. We each read several of our own poems plus a poem from each other's chapbook, published by each of our small presses.

So Marg. read one of my poems from my Thirteen Designer Vagina's, published by her Hyacinth Girl Press (available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/77707618/thirteen-designer-vaginas-by-juliet-cook)

And I read a poem from her Letters From Room 27 of the Grand Midway Hotel, published by my Blood Pudding Press (available here - http://www.etsy.com/listing/82732178/halloween-horror-poetry-letters-from)

I wish I had some photos from the reading, but alas!

I was also wonderfully thrilled that my exceptionally special yumfest PoetJoe attended the reading and spent time with me afterwords. Later this month, the two of us will be having all kinds of darkly delicious fun during a horror film fest weekend. Yay!

I hope he can handle my insecure/paranoid streaks and does not grow overly fed up and tired of me.