Last week, I spent two days in the studio laying down new material. I've been listening to the results almost non-stop ever since, debating whether I like it because it's good or because it's mine and I'm severely biased. I still can't decide.
I know it makes me a bit (a lot?) narcissistic, but I love my music. As a good friend of mine likes to say, I'm not cocky, I'm convinced.
Anyway. The time in the studio was awesome. The tunes sound pretty damn good. Musically speaking, I'm trying not to bask too much in afterglow.
This is not to say that everything is perfecto in my world.
I'm fighting despair when it comes to the whole ass situation. I mean, intellectually, I know that everyone (doctors, friends, random people who suddenly wind up having in-depth ass-related conversations) says it will take six months or a year to get anywhere near normal again, and I believe them. I know it's not going to go away overnight. But how does that make it easier to deal with the fact that pretty much every waking moment is painful to some extent or other?
I'm feeling very frustrated and angry at the whole situation. I still see my chiro at least once a week, I still take pain medication regularly, I still am exhausted by *anything* and *everything* I do....it's driving me crazy. I don't know how to handle it. I have always been of the grin-and-bear-it persuasion, but this is getting to be too much to bear with a grin. My life is sort-of back to normal, only it's not, and I hate it. I HATE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, yeah, there's that monkey on my back.
Other than that and the crushing loneliness of having no roomie and being a total single-late-20s-spinster cliche....and being restless as fuck and resisting the urge to run screaming from my life right now.....other than those minor thigns, I'm just peachy. Peachy fucking keen.
Oh, wait, remember something else. My nephew has been diagnosed with biotinase deficiency disorder. Anybody know what the hell that is, other than something that could possibly leave my nephew blind, deaf, retarded, and/or dead?
Life goes on. And I know it will get better. But I'm still scared.
Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.