I Have This Problem... Reality? What's That?

I love my imagination. It has provided me with many hours of entertainment, escape, and fucked-up dreams.

But oftentimes, it can be potentially detrimental to my health and/or wellbeing. How? Take this morning for an instance. I had to drive into town to meet somebody, for a very innocent purpose. Once that was over, I logicallly decide to drive back home again. Checking the rear view mirror as would be recommended by any half decent driver and/or driving instructor, I notice that the person in the van behind me is the mother of a client I've had to drop recently (for Study and Health Related Reasons). Oh dear oh the person behind me is someone I know, Oh ho isn't it simply hilarious when that happens, oh dyou think they recognise me by the back of my car? Don't make eye contact, oh too late! Oh isn't this awkward haha let's smile and wave a little bit to show we recognise the awkward hilarity of the situation, keep holding that face until they turn off then we can relax! Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!! Eeeeeeee?? EEEEEEEEEEEE!!?!?!? (which is the natural progression of the noise you subconciously  make when holding a forced smile and you keep expecting to be able to drop it but the moment never arises)
Said mother in said van continued to stay behind me, not deviating from her (my!) path. Okay, so she is just going up the same hill as me. She mows lawns: she must be going to a job. Wait. Is that an evil glint in her eye? STOP LOOKING IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR, she'll turn you to stone! Oh God, the van is inching closer. Well bitch, YOU have a lawnmower in the back of your vehicle, whereas I only have a vaccuum cleaner. Let's see who gets up this hill faster!
Needless to say I sped up the hill like a maniac going to a maniac convention on top of a hill, and at the intersection finally managed to lose her. Thanke Ye Godes. I became calmer and more aware of reality. The appearance of the strange walking man I call the Swinger put me at ease. I hadn't seem him for awhile. In fact was there a REASON he walked like that?? Maybe he's had a hip replacement, or some other sort of oper... OH GOD.
Evil Mother in the Van of Death had caught up to me, and there was a DEFINITE gleam of bloodlust in her eye. I'm sure I heard the lawnmower start of its own accord. Trying not to panic as I dodged parked cars (a task that would be easy if it were not for my impending doom putting a nasty spin on things) I frantically thought about my Zombie Plan. None of the scenarios that had been planned for counted on zombies that could DRIVE, let alone operate garden machinery. If I got out of this, some serious thoughts and adjustments needed happen. So basically, I was on my own. Without a paddle. Or a plan. One single thought in my mind started making itself heard above the hysterical din of all the others: DRIVE. DRIVE. DRIIIIIIIIVE.
So I drove. I drove like I've never driven before. Namely, because I've never been chased by a zombie lawnmower mother in a van before. I reached another intersection, convinced she would give up chase and go another direction. Zombies have a very limited attention span, you know. But oh hell and fury, she followed me still! I chanced a glance in the rearview mirror, her eyes locked onto mine and and I was suddenly very cold. I glanced back to the road. Crivens!! I had been veering slighly over to the next lane and into oncoming traffic!! I dodged a silver station wagon with ease, trying to pretend to the other driver I had a normal reason for almost crashing into him, like texting or fiddling with the radio, while secretly hoping Zombie Mother would get distracted and chase him instead. But no. She wanted me. I remembered with shock and glee the hairpin bends coming up. Maybe the topheavy van would lose traction and go over the side, while my wide wheel-based therefore good handling car would sail forth!
 But the bitch could drive just as well as I could. Dang. She'd done this before. My driveway was almost upon us, I had planned on zooming up it and, if she followed, using my knowledge of the land to my advantage to get away. That or getting our own lawnmower out of the garage at the house: lawnmower on lawnmower, the way zombie fights are MEANT to go down. At the last minute, however, I decided to check the mail, despite knowing it was too early for any to have been delivered. I'm devious like that. This ensured I would block the driveway and if she followed, she would crash into the back of me, destroying her motor but only damaging the back of my car. I swung wildly around the corner and skidded on the gravel up to the letterbox, narrowly missing the gaping ditch beyond.

She drove on past the driveway and into the distance. Probably to a lawnmowing job.

Clever bitch knew my plan.

And that is how I survived my Ten Minutes Of Terror. I will probably have to face her another day, but luckily for me, by that time I will have worked out my Zombie Plan- Vehicle and Lawnmower Driving Ability Scenario.

Bring it.

Edit

The moon is complete and lonely tonight. I would stay outside for company were it not for that human need for warmth- part of Maslow's hierarchy of needs, survival. I'm having intense trouble finding anything I can post immediately from my notebooks that won't need severe editing, stashing the slashing and primping and priming. I know this seeems to defeat the purpose- right?? But it is 2 am and my circadian rhythms are dangerously close to meltdown!!
I will, most definitely, come back to the task at hand. I can't really remember (story of my life so far) but I think I promised, I think I promised that I would, I think I promised that I would do that one thing, and if I didn't then I should have. I will come back to it, but not now. Not now, at the risk of what happens during daytime will be shattered until unrecognisable.

"There's just no one that really knows you..." Yes and ain't that the truth. My problem and its solution are tangled up in one big ball of wool and I've only just found the end to start the unravelling... but I'm on my way now.

From Here On Out

I am fortunate enought to have a brilliantly insightful person in my life who happens to know exactly how to push my buttons and pull my levers. He also happens to grind my arguments to a pulp when it comes to Making Excuses About Not Doing Things I Know I Should Do. One of these things being expanding (and occasionally contracting) my writing into various domains and dimensions. A lot of what I write down, and what I believe is my best, is in a ramshackle collection of notebooks. Very private, very protected notebooks. That is where all my writing seems to be the safest, I can close the cover and open it again, in control, with nothing but myself and my pen to disturb me.
Mostly I do this for selfish reasons, despite knowing that those words would love to get out and be seen. I have maintained my side of the argument by thinking that nobody would really care anyway. But lo and behold, the aforementioned person goes and blows to smithereens years of thought processes and justifications with just one sentence. I believe his exact words were: "if you just hide things in notebooks, then how is anyone going to have the chance to care?"

Result: I have decided, post by post, to let some of these notebook scrawlings out to see the world and all it holds. They will be in no particular order- in fact, they'll be deliberately disorderly. They won't make sense but suddenly they will. They'll pertain to nothing you'll ever know about and will be completely out of context. But all this is relevant: it reflects with crystal clarity myself and my days and the things that force me to take up pen and put to paper. Knowing this cycle exists, how could I possibly justify leaving my words to fade away on pages under cover of darkness when they could be wreaking havoc out here??

Don't Want To Anymore

It's okay, cos I don't want to. I don't have to if I don't.
My "can't" is now a deadened limb
replaced with purposeful prosthetic "won't".

How many hours, incapacitated, spent
despairing in the grip of malaise
now I'm gripped fimly by hand and
lead into this space
a veritable panoramic change.

These eyes are weak, they're severely deformed
from years of looking away
Now I see light
and the moth starts to dance
She's drunk on the brightness of day.

It's okay, cos I'm here now. I see the dark wood from the trees.
Time has stretched on forever
my shadows can no longer hide me.

Due to popular demand... here is another post.

Last night I had planned on staying up all night. I didn't. I slept on the couch like some hubby in disgrace, hoping to wake up all fresh and zesty as the sun tiptoed its way across the valley. I would have stepped out onto the deck, Glad To Be Alive having been woken in the most gentle yet confusing way, like that one time Judy blew on my face til I woke up (which was a new and confusing experience, but not unwelcome). I know full well I would have recieved a complete faceful of the sun's shiny glory as I have often sat on this couch and whinged about it.

I set my alarm too early, and when I woke up I couldn't see. Because it was still black as all get-out. What I COULD see were lots of small twinkly white dotty things where there should have been a brilliant blue giant cover thing.
Then it started raining.

"Bitch", I thought to myself, which is a default response to "I don't like this thing that's going on". Sometimes I find it neccessary just to curse a situation in general.

I dreamed of people I didn't know but do actually exist for the next 2 hours, which made it awkward for myself when I woke up again. Strangers in such an intimate and personal place as my head doing things they shouldn't makes me nervous, and I'm glad to be rid of them after their time is up. I argued with myself as to What The Hell Was That, couldn't get any sort of decent response, so decided to drop it.

I've discovered new exciting possibilities recently and this is making it hard to maintain any sort of normal equilibrium throughout my days. Everything is starting to be giddy. Maybe that was the point...