Rambles in Shambles

Macs and Yoga Mats

It's 4am on Sunday, and I should be asleep.  I say should because I've been trying to convince myself since I was 13 that only bad people stay up all night.  Now as I get lost in my Mac's screen, I realize that those 3 hours that I lay in bed, tossing and turning in another failed attempt to meet the cousin of death, I am just wasting time.  Instead, I'd rather set up my mobile desk (which is really a USPS mail box) on my yoga mat cursing the pseudo journalists for the tripe they expect me to swallow.  Even at this hour, I am quite aware that the puppet strings are playing tug of war dancing over fiery coals.  I'm over the Kardashian, anti-vaccination, white people suck, all cops kill, ISIS, fascist, commy, us vs them bullshit and Meet The Press hasn't interrupted my late night work flow, so I guess I should turn on France 24.  At least there I can enjoy the language I am enamored by, even if they too are using sensationalism to deceive me, spinning the wheel in their direction hoping they land on a free spin.  They could sell me ketchup and mustard, while I wear a crisp white suit.  By the way, Boston looks so beautiful in the winter. I'm not sure who they are trying to convince that an oversized teddy bear is the optimal Valentine's Day gift.  Is she three? Bankrupt.

My sleeping schedule has been the least of my problems lately, yet most issues have stemmed from it alone.  If I wake up before noon, it's nothing short of a miracle.  Maybe the universe knows why I don't need screaming kids.  I'm a junkie, a time junkie.  I rarely relax.  Hell, I have to schedule meditation sessions.  Like many people trying to extend the use of their dollar, I do that with time.  Multitasking is not what I'm talking about here: that's pretending to do many things at once and not getting anything done. Trust.

Everything has a price.  For me, I'm willing to wager it all on black.  Roulette seems to be my favorite game, although I seldom win.  I'm restless during the day, I rely on rocket fuel and protein shakes because I'm filling every minute of the day with a task, a stepping stone to the next path.  Then, my friend unknowingly stopped me at my tracks with a simple response to my Facebook status.  I started to silently weep and I put my phone down.  I took a moment to myself and looked through my bedroom's transom window.  Memories of my father flooded my mind and a sense of peace took over.  I'm still thinking about that moment now.  I have put up reinforced walls the last couple of months.  I sit at my piano and stare at it.  I look at the violin my father gave me and pick it up delicately as if I was holding a sharp katana.  I light candles every day at about 7pm, one of them has an image of El Angel de la Guardia. The rest are scented candles.  Last night for no reason I can explain at all, I roasted jalapeños over the stove burner, turning it with a pair of tongs. I decided to make fresh salsa in the molcajete. For what?  My meal did not need it.  My Dad made salsa that way. 

Each night that I stay awake "past my bedtime," I can hear my Dad telling me that I need to rest, to sleep.  Still, I don't listen.  I'm stubborn.  I also haven't been listening to the people that have been trying to reach out to me. I feel like an asshole for being selfish too.  I haven't spoken to a friend that has the same anxiety issues as me for over 6 months.  I am sure he understands that the mania has taken over, but the downers are outside of the fighting ring waiting for the bell announcing their arrival.  Luckily, this time around I don't feel alone.  I have rekindled my love for cooking, religiously watching PBS for cooking shows and yelling at the television when Martha Stewart mispronounces French words.  Despite having to take the time to heal and recharge,  I feel free because I'm learning more about myself each day.  I remember to smile, laugh, and keep it moving.  Grinding my teeth and making all kinds of faces full of disgust and rage,  I finally paid for tuition and books.  It's been two years since I have been on stage.  Two years since I have enrolled in a class, although I wonder how long before I go crazy.  I am taking Coursera courses, learning on Lynda and on Codecademy, while tinkering around with a Raspberry Pi.  I hope you weren't thinking that I was huddled in a corner, shaking like a frightened Chihuahua?  Hold on this shit on CNN is getting ridiculous, I'm switching it to ESPN.  

I know.  I haven't posted any significant in a while and that's an understatement.  I am still reworking music that was supposed to be out a year ago.  Projects frozen in time.  That's okay.  You know why?  Because I fucking said so, that's why.  I am not on anybody's timeframe. If anything these last couple of months have taught me to slow down.  Yes, even with my jammed packed schedule.  Most people need instant gratification, bombarding Instagram with snippets of "Look what I am doing!" I on the other hand, want you to stay the hell away from me.  Seriously.  However, the ones who keep making their presence known are the ones who I highly respect.  My musical soulmates who remind me of my existence, that give me the freedom to be aloof and allow me to go through my process.  They don't question it, they believe that I am strong.  It is only when I let my vulnerability slip out, that is a cause for concern.  They trust my judgment, although I can tell you I am just winging it.  Trial and error = life. 

Sidebar: Today I told my husband that I was fed up with people.  I think that's why I don't interact with many. I'm not anti-social, I am just selective on whom I decide to cash my time bucks on.  I'm stingy.  I am focused on what I need to do.  As I told my friend Evie, if you are not part of my top 10 then you can pretty much escort yourself out of my building.

It's almost 6am.  My schedule says I should make coffee, followed by an hour of exercise, and three hours of learning.  That sounds about right.  Leaving me enough time to practice my languages and music before I eat lunch and then set off for a walk.  Italian is driving me nuts right now, and I have to buy a Pullman loaf pan because buying bagged bread is for chumps. Okay enough French television for today. Perhaps before I continue my day, I should toss this laptop to the side and get some yoga done.  Dad, I promise I'll take a nap. 





Hello Sunday.