December 26, 2005

7:31 p.m.

Notes from Christmas Eve Eve at the Ashram,and Some Other Stuff

From Friday -- I have so many ideas I don't know what to start first. I hope they don't pile up like a train wreck, making each other useless. I want to make the best of the time the Universe has bought me.

I have perhaps too many goals for this year to reasonably expect to achieve them all, but they are: 1) Make a prototype mouse book, involving creating and sewing the two mouse characters, and shooting from scratch, maybe the Chicago story again. There are also some good historic aspects of my town so I could do it here. May also require the acquisition of better desktop publishing software. It will not be just a children's book, but for the child in the adult. Each story will be like a historic tour of the city where it takes place, so it'll be educational as well as terminally cute. Use my 2 friends' publishing connections. 2) Self publish a volume of poetry. Rose's and my book has completely stalled and I want to get on with something -- but that's too large a project, I think, for me to handle alone. In the interim I could do a smaller volume and take care of it myself in a simple way, maybe at Kinko's. Must write some different poems though, so there isn't a great deal of overlap. 3) Toying with the idea of a little film script, which Steve would film, based on the transformation I'm going through now about my relationship with money and the amazing ways the Universe is setting things in motion as I become open to them. Something about seeing the black and white of just what's on the table in front of one, vs. realizing the world of possibility and creative force which makes other solutions manifest. Haven't worked it out yet but there's a spark. 4) I need to start drawing again. Period. Find the right light. The subjects will follow. (Possibly use own drawings for poetry book.) 4) Organize advertising for Reiki practice. I need to step up my healing. 5) Knit with intention. I'm getting better and I like knitting things for others. I could make it a sideline.

I could add other, minor goals, like going to bed by midnight. Working out with consistency. Leaving the house on time. Being reasonable about chocolate consumption. But then I'd be perfect, and that could get boring. I think I'll just add: "Wear tiara at least one day per week."

********

Must get back to knitting some sparkly mittens, but not before going downstairs to the gift shop and getting one of the world's best, most devilish chocolate chip cookies.

********

Back to Present Time

So now my faithful and powerful body is fighting off a bug. I did go out on errands for about three hours today, to get them out of the way, but it's pamper city for the next day and a half. Cold Stop tea, knitting, and reading my new book that just came, I'm Not the New Me by Wendy McClure. Some of you have undoubtedly read it already. It's riveting. She's so acutely conscious of her own psychology and, by extension, of ours, every little chapter is an essay in itself that pricks the heart. I used to read her online diary (and, of course, busted a gut laughing over her Weight Watchers recipe cards and commentary), and have been thinking about getting this book ever since it came out. I hope she sells a legion of them. She's very, very good.

Can't decide whether I'm hot or cold this evening. Take off the favorite black fleece pullover for a while. Replace when chilled.

I had two interesting dreams last night, or rather this morning, while sleeping off the hydrocodone I had to take for the massive headache last night. In one, I was walking with a woman named Sharon, who was at my party this month and whom I hadn't seen in years. I was very happy because we had learned how to fly. In a little spurt of joy I kicked off from the ground, just a little jump, and went, "Whooo-o-o-o-ah!" as my little careen went slightly out of control. Apparently I hadn't actually mastered the skill yet, but I had the ability.

In the other dream, I was staying somewhere that was supposed to be private for me, yet I went downstairs in the middle of the night wearing a t-shirt and my underwear, and noticed there were about three guys sitting in the darkness of the living room, talking. I was annoyed, and said something like, "Excuse me?" One guy had a video camera and started shooting me. I was very aware that I was in my underwear and came towards him, saying, "No, no, don't film me! I don't think so!" But instead of engaging in some argument with them, I sat on the couch among them, still a little mad. They were talking, trying to defend themselves, and I interrupted them, saying, "At the very least -- at the very least -- you don't film someone who has come down in the middle of the night in their underwear." This came out with perfect comic timing, and they laughed. In spite of being miffed I thought it was funny, too, and felt a small comeradeship with them. Somehow a few more people arrived just then -- just appeared around the couch, some teenage girls, friends of theirs -- and I recognized that ordinarily I'd be even more annoyed at this invasion of my space. But I was chatting with this guy to my left, and he said, "You know that song, (?) (don't remember the song, but it was a popular one)? My sister wrote that song." "No way! She didn't!" "Yeah, she did." Then he told me about an uncle or someone who had sold three songs. I was about to find out whether he'd made money on them when I woke up with "Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door" playing in my head.

Things are shifting outside of my sight.