Some of the things I desperately wanted to start doing again this year included blogging. Have I done it? Not yet, but I've made a few valiant fumbles to get it started. These picture and words are another fumble. I'm currently unable to speak. I had a cold for a week at the start of August. It was no big deal. I tested negative for any brand name viruses, so I knew it was just a cold. And it slowly faded. But right at the end the little bitch had a scorpion tail and it stung my right in the sinuses. And those bitches drained into my throat and gave me laryngitis. I haven't been able to speak for about two weeks. Slowly it is improving but I can't talk or sing. I also learned whispering is very very bad for laryngitis. Silly me. I'm trying everything in my power to get better but my god it has lit a fire in me. (Apparently many many people are losing their voices and it is going round).
To be honest, I would have had the fire anyway, but this has been fuel. What's the fire? I am, what I tell my dear friend Casey is, 'hangry'. This is when I'm so hungry for life that I get restless and relentless and I just need to throw myself into something and feel as alive as the sun. This is a recurrent, wonderful theme of my life, but normally I would have my goddamn voice. I could sing my heart out to satiate the hunger, or I could do some acting theatre things, but I can't talk. I'm the lead in a production of Frankenstein at the moment and I have a whole script of words I cannot say, that someone else sits near me in the rehearsal room and speaks for me while I mime. My god it is unsatisfying.
Why do I feel like this? Because I love being alive. Some days when the season shifts (whatever season it is I always feel like it's my favourite) and we're in that liminal place between the moods of the world, I feel echoes back to every hungry moment I've had before and I want to declare my name to the sky. I want to feel the absolute freedom of picking a thing, any thing, and working at it until magic happens. There are two main reason I always come back to this feeling. One of my sisters doesn't get to feel it. She only got 21 years and that was it. I'm a lot older than her now and I've seen enough of life to know that everything is temporary and life can be taken away unexpectedly. The other reason is because I had two years of my life taken away from me by that fucking awful head injury. Many days I feel anger about it, which I think is justified. If there's anything I've taken away from the injury, it's patience because I know that I am inevitable. I may not be able to sing today, but I can wait. I can wait. And then it's over for these bitches.
Today was glorious. The sun held everything like it was greeting old friends. The cherry and pear blossoms threw petal confetti into the wind. I went to a martial arts class and communicated through hand signals and got to swing around a bo. I fed my sister's turtle. I watched my friends cycle as a group into the city. I took my van out for a drive. I did my stretching progress routine and felt like the flexibility I've had a goal for might be possible. I sat under my sister's wisteria and counted the new buds on the bare branches. Yes, they're bare now. These photos are almost a year old and I've no new ones with my new hair aside from me dressed as Frankenstein's monster or as a reindeer.
Anyway, I'm just randomly yapping at this point, simply because I really really needed to do a blog post. Probably because the change of seasons reminds me of when I was blogging every damn week and that took creativity and skill and work and I miss it a lot. I'll get it regular soon. Hopefully after Frankenstein because that's my whole world at the moment. A sick sad world and I adore it.
Someone is going to ask what I'm wearing so:
Dotti top and wide leg trouser set
Wittner heels
Insert Name Here ponytail.
Photographer is my number 1 (my sister)
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