I have fallen off the blog boat, but I am going to try to make a brief attempt to raise my head above the waters of grad school to say “hello world.” I started school in August. It’s intense, and yet in class on Wednesday we “had” to go outside and color for 30 minutes. I know. It’s not brain surgery, but it is Art Therapy, so sometimes I feel about as drained as if it were brain surgery.
Brain surgery that I am performing on my own brain, without drugs!
Not that I’m complaining, I certainly have some goobers in my gray matter that could use removal, or hugs, or copious amounts of caffeine. I’m trying all three to see what works best. So far the caffeine is my favorite, although I equated my habit to that of a meth addict the other day. I’m hoping it’s not going to make me look like those billboards of tweakers. Good lord. It’s just coffee. But, man, I have had so much in the last month that I expect my teeth to start falling out at any moment. I may wake up with a couple stuck in my hair, and I would not be surprised. My dentist will. But I’m sure he’ll be happy when I pay his bill with my student loan check.
So, why would I put my teeth and gray matter through such trauma, voluntarily? Perhaps because I am clinically insane. But, from what I’ve learned, insane ain’t so bad. It’s depression that I’d like to avoid. At least the insane make some fabulous art. And you don’t need any friends to have a party, because there they are, all in your head, whenever the party mood strikes! Wheeee! Anyway, I’m not really insane (or my art would probably be much better) and so far I’m not depressed. That being said, you may disagree because I have enrolled as a full time grad student at a school where not only do I have 15 textbooks for one semester, but I am required to meditate (and read a hell of a lot about how to do so, if I only had the time, but since I have to read about it so much, I run out of time to practice it!), but I also have to make art (this is my version of heaven), and people around me actually, literally hug trees, sometimes while crying great big animalistic sobs. This I have learned is another therapy program, Gestalt. I’m quite happy that I don’t have to hug the trees in the art program. At least not in front of people. You all know I secretly hug them when no one’s looking. But they only make me cry when they have wasp nests in them. But yes, I am going to a unique school, and I love it. After almost 6 weeks, I do not yet own patchouli oil, my leg hair is as randomly shaved as ever, and nothing new has been pierced. I still have my given name (although I think Hot Wind has a nice ring to it). I am still married (I think. There’s a guy on the couch who kinda resembles some dude I used to know. Hope it’s not the plumber.). And I hope to still be funny (I think that’s my sense of humor poking out from under my massive blue binder).
Oh silly blog. How I have missed writing. I promise to build up many stories to share over the winter break. So, stay tuned. I am still me! I know this because today I had the opportunity to help someone who had been hit by a car. I held her head while we waited for the ambulance. I kept talking to her as she went in and out of consciousness. As the fire engine appeared in front of us she said, “Why are the firemen here?” I told her the reason, that they are typically the first responders to any scene, and then added a side note of, “Don’t worry. There’s not a fire.” She laughed, which gives me reason to believe that she will be okay.
A word of wisdom to those whose brains are worth something – the ones not overrun with boogers and meth: wear a helmet! I don’t care if you are walking your dog. Ok. I’m kidding, although we’d probably all be safer. I mean, when you ride your bike, wear your stinking helmet. If you are more concerned about your hair than your brains, then you’re right. You’re one of the lucky ones who does not need a helmet. But I’m guessing that there may be a modicum of good inside that brain, so maybe protect it anyway. If you’re doing meth AND concerned with your remaining hair, the helmet is just a joke at this point. One political slam here, because it is connected to helmets, and hair. One of our local politicians, Tom Tancredo, was pulled over last year while driving his motorcycle. He was not wearing a helmet. When asked about this, his reply was (and I should not quote because I don’t have the direct source, but my somewhat gooey over-caffienated-gray-matter remembers it as…)”I’m coming from a haircut.” Yep. Wouldn’t want to mess up the hair by protecting your brain. That would be just silly.
A close friend of mine unfortunately did not wear her helmet to work one day, about 15 years ago. I must give her credit, hardly any one did on a casual ride in those days. She was hit by a car and suffered a terrible brain injury, followed by an infection that has left her in a state that most of us can’t even let ourselves imagine. It’s too much. Her parents have cared for her through all these years, and I have started a fundraiser for them because their resources are depleted. They are good good people. They deserve any help humanity can spare. If you are interested in reading, please check the fundraiser site at www.giveforward.com/magicformoana.
Protect those beans. The tree hugging ones. The insane ones. The depressed ones. Beans rule.