something’s missing here

The DHL Balloon manufactured by Aerophile is the world’s largest tethered helium balloon with 30 passengers on board (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

With full bravado and expectations (on my part), I added pages to my blog with the intent on focusing in to three subjects (besides my asides, participation in challenges, etc.

Well, here it is almost April (in about 45 minutes), and I’ve yet to fulfill those expectations, let alone blog with inspiration, confidence, and curiosity on diets — the blog on the antihistamine diet often gets the most hits — depression (still a dragon/demon needed to be contained) — and dementia as I seem, on many days, to be descending into it.

New game plan? Don’t know. Feel, as often do, ungrounded — my head swollen big like sinus pressure aid of a few years ago, or a helium balloon about to burst. (And that’s only talking about a swollen head, lol) Depression continues to hang around — where else would it go after all these years? To a bar at the end of the universe, lol. Dementia, I forget to write about it or note the lapses — I’m lapsing on the lapses. Maybe it’s just like hubby says, I see dementia in the my dyslexic world due to my mother, not as a part of reality — does that make any sense?

Point is that I’m at that point again. Put myself down for the HAWMC 2013. It’s my version of the New York marathon — I need the training 30 days of insistent blogging should give. Bring it on, one topic at a time please, and hope I remember make a post-it note about making a post-it-note about making . . .

PS: And sending a wish for Easter and Passover of peace, calm, family, friends, rebirth, reinvention, relief.

multitasking: juggling with chainsaws

An illustration of the box juggling pattern. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hey folks, I can multi-task: juggle the chainsaws of chronic pain, bipolar 2, and *****. Then again, maybe I can’t
A busker’s trick, drawing in a disbelieving crowd as each machine is fired up and tossed in to the theatre mix. Do we watch because it’s illusionary like a magic trick? Do we vicariously stare down danger and pain with each catch and release? A running commentary over the roar of the machines – concentration forged by Himalayan monks; confidence bestowed by creative visualizing, timing honed in Cirque de Soliel . The juggler can handle the danger, the timing, the consequences.
These multitasking chainsaw jugglers have to be in focus, of the moment so that the worlds beyond the whirring blades are a blur. All that exists are the juggling pieces – like balls or juggling pins. Sharpness is in the focus, not sharpness in the blade. A steadiness, a grounding, a careful ploy in a dangerous juggling game.

I watch the trick play out, gasp and clap with the crowd. Is this a peek at an illusionary danger? Are the chainsaws real or props? Gasps and claps equal ones and fives in the hat – passed from one voyeur to the next voyeur.

I wonder what I should put in the hat. Not the bleakness of chronic depression (part of my biopolar 2). Not bone weary inertia. Not mind numbing tiredness. Not breathe taking pain.

I make myself invisible and stare into the middle distance – close enough to touch, but too far away to embrace. I’m not lost – just scattered and shattered; fragmented and fractured.
Can it be time for absolution; time for self peace? Like that almost in an afterlife experience; disconnecting from your body; hovering between two worlds (or maybe five and six).
I’ve lost count the number of times I’ve reached this point. I want to jump through the fiery ring on a motorcycle, sail over the crowd on a gossamer thread; fly high above without a net to catch me should I fail and fall. Make Cirque de Soliel my Mobius loop; cycling through the stories, the acrobatics, the lighter than air escapism.
What stops me? Is it fear of heights, fear of failing, fear of hiding the ground hard. Inertia doesn’t keep me grounded (in the worse sense of the word). It’s an excuse, a cover-up, a mask to hide behind, rejection avoided. I put a note in the hat along with my last $5.00.
Sure, I’m juggling with three chainsaws; trying to forget the consequences of dropping one. That was my question, my note – what happens when three becomes two becomes one?