it’s stub time!

I am in shock at how many promising blog posts I started, abandoned, then completely forgot about. Deadbeat Dad!

Poor little children stubs with your unrealized potential. Here you go, I’m sending your half-formed selves out into the world.

Here’s one titled “just about to kill you hot, that’s how hot” from October of last year. 

Untitled

The past couple days have been excruciating, heat-wise. I am too warm to the touch. My co-worker and I lost the ability to form sentences round about 4pm. Today was a little better, but my elevated temperature (on the heels of a weirdly clammy warm summer) contributed to me being pretty far out of sorts.

From “cleaning house”, August 2012:

Here’s some unintentional mess.

disaster!

A bracket gave way under a shelf after 12 years of holding up atlases, a dictionary and several tennis trophies. This happened in the middle of the night, much to the dismay of the adrenal systems of both my Elderly Relative and me.

There’s also intentional mess.

[not pictured]

My bedroom is out of control. I have been busy and very blue in equal measure and therefore there has been a lot of sleeping, not a lot of cleaning, and a lot of wallowing.

These two messes backed me into a corner, in many ways.

And from “man behind the curtain”, May 2012:

I have, and always had, a profession that is somewhat transparent, if I’m doing it well. Most of the time I can handle being Invisible Lady; I know I do my jobs competently, and I’m lucky to have colleagues that seem to appreciate what I do.

However, every once in a while, glory is gotten, and sometimes I have had something to do with this glory, but I get overlooked, acknowledgment-wise. It is a testament to my getting wiser at the fact I don’t crumble when this happens — I don’t like it, but I don’t let it get blown out of proportion.

Well, I’m only blowing it a little out of proportion. It’s a day like this when all the annoying aspects of the job rear up, and I want to kick things in a petulant and snitty way.

The other annoying aspects are worse. Because of less-than-satisfactory workflow process, I often don’t receive critical information that I need. This is true of several jobs that I do. I don’t like the phrase “being left out of the loop” and I hate being left out of that loop even more.

And because of these less-than-satisfactory processes, my job includes nagging people. What joy.

“trigger” February 2012:

trigger point therapy is changing my view on life

It’s been no secret my neck has been the bane of my existence. You dumb, faulty stalk — why must you be so tense and cricky and spasmy and weird? Often the source of the malady occurs earlier and farther away; a spot near my left shoulder blade seems to activate in a malevolent way, and the pain radiates up, up, into the shoulder and neck. In the past year or so, this line of tension has also touched off migraines during specific times of my hormone cycle.

Just a failing biology experiment. I have been avoiding taking the step into varsity-level drugs, and have been researching other treatments including lymph drainage massage, regular massage, caffeine and hydration treatments, the lovin’ hands of Manfriend, and acupuncture. The latter I have not tried yet, but plan to.

I took a neck and shoulders yoga workshop with my friend Anna, which was great but weird. I almost honest-to-god fainted in the class, which was an odd reaction. I appreciated the various stretches and exercises she showed us, but I didn’t feel anything revolutionary. In fact, my neck was acting up that day and it just kept on spasming.

Until Anna brought out the yoga balls, and introduced us to trigger point therapy. Oh my god. It hurt soooo good.

[Postscript: I tried acupuncture and had a not-good experience. I’m still working on trigger-point therapy and it still works quite well. I bought a book about trigger point and headaches/migraines and I feel quite hopeful.]