Suspicious nodule

I have decided that the phrase "suspicious nodule" is high on my list of life's least favorite phrases. Obviously, it's not as bad as "it's malignant" which has to be one of the worst, but in terms of creating tension and anxiety, it's probably pretty close.

Chances are, of course, that it will turn out to be nothing serious -- so many times medical worries wind up forgotten in a few months. But I spent a lot of time today thinking about tears, because they kept running down my face and falling off my chin. I wasn't crying in the way I think of crying, no gulping sobs, no struggle to catch my breath, no snot-filled nose embarrassingly dripping. It wasn't even really weeping. It was just...tears. Overflowing. Steadily. Like a gentle summer rain of crying instead of the thunderstorms and downpours that have been my more typical (albeit rare) cries.

Anyway, my mom will have a CAT scan on Monday and I'll know more then.

Celebration of dirty laundry

Today should have been a celebration -- I am 99.9% of the way done with the work project that has consumed so much of my energy and brain for the last few months. But it was more like waking up from an obsessed dream and discovering that the laundry was piled high, the dishes filled the sink, the dust bunnies had become more like dust wolves, and things were in a general state of chaos. I didn't feel happy, I felt overwhelmed.

I watched the dog rolling in the grass and tried to remind myself that life is about the small pleasures. Then, when I put my head back down to the computer, she went and rolled in the wet sandy dirt. Her white coat turned gray and black, and I had to laugh. I swear she smiled at me. There's meaning there somewhere -- be happy with the dirt, too? But I'm not sure what it was except that in that moment, we both felt happy despite the messy house and work to do.

I'm going to aspire to a better balance as my life changes. A little house effort every day to avoid the misery of chaos. Tomorrow I think I'll try to balance studying for summer midterms with cleaning the house. A little of each, and a little writing. Could be a good day!

Saying goodbye to 2010

2010 was a shitty year. There's just no way around it. It wasn't anything dramatic -- well, except for that miserable Alzheimer's diagnosis, which, come to think of it, was pretty dramatic. But just in general, it was a miserable year. I'm wanting better things for 2011, but so far...yeah, not so much. First two days of the year, and I'm kind of ready to give up on it already.

The one good thing--of both 2010 and 2011--is that I have rediscovered the joys of writing fiction. The stories I wrote this fall, largely spontaneous and pulled out of me at the speed of light (65,000 words of intricate plotlines and no character development whatsoever, woo-hoo) made my weeks, my months, my year. I know in a way it's denial -- I'm finding happiness in living in the world of my imagination because the world of my reality just sucks. But hey, that's what imagination is good for. And it's lovely to have it to fall back on in times like these.

If I don't manage to make up with R in the next twelve hours, I will go away for a four day business trip still thinking that he is just a jerk. Usually, I can wrap my head around what I've contributed to a situation, but this time, not so much. Maybe sometime soon. Or maybe I'm right and he's just a jerk.

Angel Puppy

I hope that Jack Johnson won't think this is copyright infringement. I definitely had no evil intent but every time I hear that song, it makes me think of this angel. Until I get to the last line about sharing souls, that is, and then I just think, no, how weird would that be, to share souls with my dog. Not that hers isn't a perfect soul, but if we shared it there would be too much thinking about squirrels and basketballs and naps.

It's black or white

I just realized--belatedly, I'm sure--that one of the reasons I'm having a complete nervous breakdown/midlife crisis is my sense that switching careers is an entirely global switch. In other words, if I follow this deviant path I'm on, trailing me off into an entirely new direction, everything from my past path is lost. So of course that's insanely anxiety-provoking. It's scary to give up everything. But also, it's probably impossible. And/or there's no reason to do so. At least not dramatically. I can make a much slower move, gently exploring a new career direction without letting go of everything I know from the old. Specifically, I guess, hanging on to the friends and the memories. If I become a counselor, it doesn't mean I can never go camping again. This, despite the fact that I haven't gone camping in years.

Laziness personified

My phone ran out of power so I looked for the charger. Ten minutes and all obvious places later, I realized that I had never unpacked from my trip to California ten days ago. Oops.

Bigger oops, this led to the realization that I haven't brushed my hair in ten days. Yeah. I really don't think anyone would notice--the joys of straight hair--but still, I can't help being a teeny bit impressed with my own sloth.

In further laziness news, I can only find my way back to my own blog via Google reader. It's like not being able to remember my own name. Well, or maybe not being able to remember my own phone number, which I admit sometimes happens.

If there's an easy path...

...it's the one I don't take. Seriously, why must I make life so hard? Back to the education thing. I can't stand having a kid in high school. The drive to get the A in order to get into college in order to have a nice middle class life violates everything I want to believe about what is valuable in the world, and yet is still probably fundamentally a truth. It just makes me want to quit everything. It's not that I think being mediocre is good. But living for the number that someone else assigns to your work curdles my soul. High school is heartbreaking, even once removed.