A Good Party

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5-29-10                 10:35pm

I’m so exhausted. Just got home from Jenny’s graduation party. I got to watch a family.

Tonight I watched beer pong, listened to a lot of loud drunk people and held Jenny’s hair as she puked and then yelled, “I can do whatever I want. It’s MY graduation!” Lol. I was mistaken for Uncle Dave’s wife (whomever Uncle Dave is) and then stalked by the guy who thought that. Fun. I watched a very talented 3 year old dance hip hop. The kid is amazing. I hope he sticks with it. I watched people take care of each other and I enjoyed the experience. I also got an idea for a business that I think could be very successful.

I’m utterly exhausted but feel good. Congrats, Jenny. Here’s to remembering your party. ;)

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Money

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5-27-10                 3:41am

I feel so very tired tonight, and sad. I’m here with my book light again. Tomorrow marks one year from my last admission. It’s been a long year.

Tonight I think about money. How it affects and limits me. M- asked awhile back on FB if you’d rather grow up rich or poor. I’ve thought about that a lot. I’m glad I grew up poor, that I can truly appreciate. But I could use some money now.

It’s like being trapped. My mom drives me nuts. She is my x-factor. I can’t stand her and I can’t change her, but I can’t move out. Why? No money. I’m not going to get more money. It’s not going to change. I have to figure out how to deal with it.

I don’t want lots of money, so much I don’t know what to do with. N- was talking Sunday about the average starting salary for his dream job. It was in the hundreds of thousands. I asked what he would do with that kind of money. He said, “I know. Really.” But I mean it. What does a person do with that? I don’t even know what that looks like.

I just want to not have to worry about money, to be able to be free and not tied to so many things. I don’t enjoy scouring a menu for the cheapest thing or not going out ‘cuz I can’t afford it. Money may seem trivial to some but it changes things.

I don’t claim it would solve all my problems, but even my life at USC was better. If I didn’t have to worry about the cost, how would my life be different? What would I do or change?

  • I would be less dependent on others, less limited
  • I would move out
  • I would get new glasses for me & Mom
  • I could get the dental work I need
  • I could dance (body pending)
  • I could order food I want instead of food my wallet wants
  • I might be able to get an answer to my medical problems. Doctors are NOT motivated by Medi-Medi
  • I could buy things like M’s bag just because I want to.

That bag has caused me much grief today. It’s beautiful. I want to be able to just buy it, but I can’t. He said it’s a bag “you” can afford. I’m not a part of that you. An affordable designer bag is still almost 20% of my income for the month. I could buy the bag with the last of my credit, but instead of feeling pretty while carrying it I would be plagued with guilt. That’s no way to carry a purse. My current purse cost $9 at WalMart and has taken my abuse for the past 5 months. I’m impressed. But it doesn’t decrease my desire for this purse or my anger and sadness that I cannot indeed have it. It also doesn’t make me any less aware that I do not NEED that bag.

When I look at something I want there is this fight in my head. The question is not just can I afford that? It’s do I deserve it? Because if I can’t afford it, then surely I don’t deserve it. But there’s a part of me that believes I do deserve it and gets pissed that I can’t have it. Why can’t I have x? I’m a good person. Why is this happening to me?! It becomes more existential crisis than shopping trip.

What I can afford affects how I present myself and how I’m perceived, defines a part of who I am. So I never know just who I am. There are these many different parts in different clothes with different roles, that eat different foods & wear different shoes. And I’m treated differently for every one of them. They’re all me but in different tax brackets.

I just want to be me and free. But that requires money.

—–

5-29-10                 1:41am

I thought more about money yesterday and what it can’t buy me, what it can’t change.

Money can’t change my health. It can’t take away the days I can’t move or talk. It can’t bring me closer to the people I love. And all the money in the world couldn’t buy me someone who cares about me like my mom does. She may drive me nuts but she’s always there.

I’m grateful not to have many days like yesterday. I’m so exhausted. So sick. I had some good hours today & a long nap. But money can’t change that. It can’t bring me back.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

The Kids Meal

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5-26-10                 4:24am

I just gotta point out how awesome the kids meal is at Panda Express. I get it all the time. It’s perfect. I can’t eat a two entrée meal. I can’t even usually finish the kids meal. It’s the perfect size for me when I’m REALLY hungry. I finished it all today (except for the cookies) and was so stuffed it was painful. And it cost me less than $5. What do you get? Everything here. One side, one main item, a chocolate chip cookie, a fortune cookie, and a tiny drink you can refill as many times as you want.

Today's Meal

I don’t know why smaller meals are limited to kids almost everywhere. Panda Express doesn’t hassle me about age. Neither does the movie theater. At most theaters, for around $5, I can get more popcorn than I generally eat, candy and a drink. Why would I pass that up? I don’t need a big bag of popcorn or a bucket. I’m just feeding the trash. Try the kids meal. You just might like it. ;)

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Are we not still in a drought?

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5-26-10                 3:46am

Okay, so I have to ask. Are we not still in a drought? Cuz I remember very clearly several months back all these rules being issued about what days we’re allowed to water our lawns and how we can’t wash our cars and such. Yet MTS, or whomever takes care of the trolley stations, continues to powerwash the sidewalks.

Now I called the Helix Water District when I first saw this awhile back. Their response was that it’s not illegal but they would send whomever a letter reminding them that we’re in a water shortage and that they need to conserve. How, may I ask, does that help? I don’t quite understand. I was riding the trolley home Sunday night and the driver announced to be careful on the platform because it was wet. I looked out and saw the men in orange vests spraying down the sidewalk. Again. How exactly does the city wasting so much water (there are 54 trolley stops) set an example for the citizens (like me) who are not supposed to water our grass or wash our cars? Really. I don’t get it. I’m not allowed to hose off my driveway, yet they can powerwash 54 trolley stops without anyone blinking. Can someone please explain this to me?

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Will I?

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5-26-10                 2:46am

“Will I?” from RENT keeps playing again and again in my head tonight.  It’s such a powerful song. It’s a many part round of this phrase:

Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?

RENT was my soundtrack for several years. When I was living with Mary I listened to it for days at a time while pacing her backyard (when I wasn’t crocheting and watching Law & Order.) It speaks to me. At the time with being at-risk for HD it was particularly relevant. I was constantly wondering what would happen to me. The show is still relevant. I’m just less scared now.

I think practicing mindfulness and acceptance has really changed me. I know I’m going through something I can’t change, something I can’t fix. But I’m not scared right now. Just for today, I’m okay.

“One Song Glory” also speaks to me.  Especially the line that says, “One song, before the virus takes hold.” I think I’m writing that song. I think that now is my time. You know?

Do you ever feel like something really big is happening in your life? Like you’ve gotten to this very moment for a reason and you’re about to find out?

I’m pretty sure I will lose my dignity. And I don’t know if someone will care. And I probably will not wake up tomorrow from this nightmare. But it’s okay… It’s okay.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

What to do with a day…

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5-26-10                 2:08am

So, I don’t do well with unscheduled time. Days off are like poison. They drive me insane. But when I wake up with nothing to do, I can’t seem to figure it out. What do you do with a day?

Choir ended with the festival last Friday. It doesn’t start up again for several months. And now on my calendar I have groups and appointments. Sacha Sundays starts again in a few weeks, which I’m looking forward to. But that makes 13 scheduled hours for the MONTH. AHHHHHHHH!

When there is nothing on my calendar, my mom assumes that time will be dedicated to cleaning the house or helping her move things around. No. If she could never leave this house again that woman would be happy. But I can’t stand to be here. I need out! I need stimulation and material for thought, movement, food. I am not low-maintenance. But I don’t know what to do with a day.

I’m not in school and I don’t want to be. I can’t get a job. Don’t ask why. It’s a long explanation. And I need not to be volunteering in a hospital or around children or anything depressing. So what do you do with a day? I really need to be around people but I don’t know that many people to meet up with or who would actually do lunch. Everyone I ask always seems to be busy. And everywhere I go costs money. I’m not rich. I can’t afford to be shelling out money every day. What do you do with a day?

There is a lot of work I can do for my group. But I need to get out of my house to do it. I need an office, some place I can go to work, and a place I can LEAVE my work. You know? I’d like to volunteer somewhere I enjoy being that doesn’t require me to be super reliable. My body cannot handle steady work, but I have lots of skills. I can get shit done. I make cool things happen. What do you do with a day?

When I think about things to do, the things that come to mind are groups. But I don’t need any more groups. I need normal people activities. I belong to several Meetups but I rarely go. They just don’t interest me. It’s like I’m waiting for something. I’m just not sure what. It will happen, eventually.

God seems to drop things into my life when I least expect it. When I think there is nothing else left, something appears seemingly out of nowhere. It’s there for a reason and right on time. I just have to wait. But in the meantime, I need something to do. What do you do with YOUR day?

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Cold Ketchup & Toilet Seats

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5-26-10                 1:41am

So I’ve been wondering for probably a week now just why we keep ketchup in the fridge. Maybe it’s just in my house, but we keep all our condiments in the fridge. Even those ones that need no refrigeration. And while I’m fine with most things being cold, ketchup is not one of them. When I eat a hot dog, I’d like to actually taste the hot dog and not be thrown off by cold ketchup. Yes, I eat ketchup on hot dogs. Get over it. I also don’t like cold hot sauce. It’s just wrong. It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t taste the sauce. I just taste the cold. And I can’t even taste what I’m putting it on. I guess if I’m trying not to taste the food that’s good, but I generally like to taste what I eat.

I’ve also been wondering about toilet seats and the battle to get guys to put them down. Just why are they lifted in the first place? That’s a pretty big hole to be aiming at. I imagine it’s kind of like crayons or target practice. You start with a big target and eventually, as you get better, the target or the crayon gets smaller. But it doesn’t seem to work this way for toilet seats. Why? Why can a man who has been peeing for say 15 years or so not get that tiny stream of pee into that big hole? I can’t imagine how tall a guy would have to be to have a stream of pee so large it couldn’t be reasonably directed into the hole of a standard toilet seat. What’s the deal? Really. I can see lifting the lid to vomit. When you’re sick or drunk what comes out of your mouth can be unpredictable. But not pee. What’s the deal? Really.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Exhausted

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5-26-10                 12:37am

The music is so loud in my head tonight that it hurts my ears. My right eye is being pushed out of its socket. I’m down to one of the four lightbulbs in my fixture and even that’s too bright. I need to bring back my bed umbrella.

I am exhausted. I did too much today. And now my body hurts. I need desperately to sleep but don’t want to. I’m also very agitated. At least my left foot is. It won’t stop moving really fast, which makes falling asleep next to impossible. It’s like my body’s plugged into a power grid, and yet I feel exhausted.

This umbrella in my living room helps me tonight.


© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Exercise

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5-25-10                 10:39pm

So, all those people who always try to convince me to eat healthy are always trying to get me to exercise as well. While I’m not against it, I don’t do it often. At least not their version.

Today I got in quite a bit of exercise, my way. Warmed up with some cardio (anxiety). Then walked to the bus stop, and up the stairs at the trolley, and to another bus, and down to Dave & Buster’s where I had a salad and a soda. I was tired.

I don’t care what anyone says. Whac-a-Mole is cardio. I was so exhausted, had to sit there and breathe for awhile.

Basketball & skee ball for strength training and coordination. I LOVE skee ball! I even made that little 100 hole in the corner once and I made a few baskets. Woohoo!

I love this view. Skee ball is good for the soul.


When I left, I was exhausted. The internet told me the bus still ran but it didn’t, so I walked to the trolley (a mile). When I got there I sat down in Panda Express and could not move or breathe. Too much. Way too much activity.

I wondered as I played skee ball with a smile why it is that I pay my gym $40 a month and never go if I have so much fun playing skee ball and Whac-a-Mole takes everything out of me. It might be smarter just to make a date with Dave & Buster’s. When I left I felt happy and tired. I felt calm. I could use more of that. Fun.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Beyond Complicated

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5-20-10                 2:30pm

I had a relationship this past winter. It was so far beyond Facebook’s description of “complicated.” It ended badly. I work with this person and I didn’t talk to him for awhile. But recently we’re civil again. He gave me a ride home this week and said something I can’t quite shake.

It’s a long ride and toward the end he apologized for what he’s put me through. He said he was following his own agenda and motives, that he realized I wasn’t keeping secrets. He just wasn’t listening. Then he said it. “I hardly even noticed it was you.” I get goosebumps when I think of that.

I’ve known this person for a very long time. At one point we were close friends. I shared with him almost everything. I’m not sure why he shared this with me. “I hardly even noticed it was you.” It’s kind of the equivalent of “I was just using you” or “I really didn’t care.”

Nice to know he realizes he’s an ass.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Please Remind Me It’s Bullshit

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5-25-10                 3:51am

I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships, as well as the two songs in “This is My Time & I Decide.” Saturday I wrote this in my journal:

Core Belief: I don’t deserve that.

I decide not to be afraid anymore, to say bullshit even when the voice in my head is screaming so loud, “You don’t deserve that,” that I cannot sleep or breathe.

Please remind me of that occasionally.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

The Candle

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I went to Survivors of Suicide Loss Day this weekend and everyone lit a candle in memory of their loved one(s). While the conference itself was great, it was the candle that moved me.

As I stared at it I felt & thought many things.

The Candle

5-22-10                 11:31am

  • Guilt – I’m supposed to do something to save it but I don’t want to.
  • Fear – doing something to help it will hurt me or draw attention to me.
  • Helpless – there is nothing I can do to affect the time this candle burns, what I do won’t matter, won’t make a difference.
  • Hopeless – It’s not my place
  • Life – As I watched I noticed a brown speck near the wick just twirling, a sign of life.
  • The Pain of Waiting – I don’t know when but I can’t stop it. I just wait. Like D- and the bus stop. I just want it to stop. I want to blow out the candle. Just make it stop. Please.

I’ve noticed no one else at my table is watching the candle.

When it was lit, I didn’t pay attention. As it burned, I didn’t watch. But I noticed when the white candle was completely clear. Now there’s nothing I can do but watch. If only I had noticed. There’s nothing I can do. This candle is going to kill me.

I want to protect the candle. Fear of someone blowing it out. Wondering if that would be more therapeutic.

I don’t want to eat lunch. I don’t want to leave it.

People eat lunch and talk.

I just watch…

I miss my dad…

I’m tempted to ask how long these candles burn. But no one can know.

I’m angry I can’t change it.

—

Didn’t want to leave but had a good conversation.

Automatic Thought – I shouldn’t be here.

—

Angry. Damn it! Go out candle.

—

Angry – my perspective is so different. I shouldn’t be here.

—

I forgot & went back to blow out the candle. The effect. And I walked away.

I know the people around me did not experience this candle as I did. But it was so powerful. To go through so many emotions and stages of trauma and grief in such a short time with a candle is amazing. It’s powerful and difficult but good. Thank God for the candle.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

This is My Time & I Decide

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5-24-10                 4:52pm

Just for this moment I feel peaceful, calm. I have this song in my head. It’s so powerful & true. Listen.

This is my time to shine
This is my place to find
All that I have inside
I never knew
This is my time to show
What I must have always known
That nothing’s impossible
And dreams come true.
And dreams come true.
…
Overcoming all these things
Here I finally find my wings
Now I know I’m ready to fly!

I may not be a corporate executive or a research scientist, or on Broadway or a doctor. But this is my time. I’m successful and loved. And I love myself. I am making things happen. No, God is making things happen. I’m seeing change. And I get to decide.

I have overcome a lot of things and now I use my choice to decide. Listen.

I may not have control over the outcome but I have control of my actions, the decisions I make. I decided this week to push myself. There’s only now. I’ve got nothing to lose. Everything is a choice, every choice an opportunity.

I get to decide to stay in my house and feel bad or go out. I ate goat cheese yesterday, and golden beets, and cucumber. Wow. I never try new things. And I liked it. I liked being eagerly uncomfortable and the tremendous feeling of success.

This is my time to realize that I can make a difference and that there IS power in persistence. I’m tied to little. All I have is time.

I decide today to go out with the guy who’s not dark and twisted, the one who scares me with his normalcy. And makes me smile. Because I want to. I decide to go out by myself and eat good food and take in great music just because. I deserve it. I decide not to let myself fester, not to lose this momentum by being idle. I decide to take care of myself and to take chances. And to sleep. Cuz I get to decide. This is my time.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

A Good Night – Croce’s & N-

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5-24-10                 3:12am

I had an awesome night tonight. For those of you who are always hassling me about not eating healthy, I did. Certainly tastier than a burrito but much more expensive.

I went to Croce’s downtown, had to get out of my house. I got off at the 12th & Imperial trolley stop and asked valets and hostess people along 5th Ave where I could find food and jazz that wouldn’t break the bank. They pointed me there. I’m glad they did.

It was such a great experience. I had a table in the corner right by the piano. The waitress was attentive and helpful. The food was amazing. I couldn’t figure out just what to order since I don’t eat most of what was on the menu. Not because it’s weird food. I just don’t eat much. So I settled on the goat cheese salad. New things are scary to me but I tried and loved it. And, save for leaving off the onions, I tried every part of it. Even the beets and cucumber.

Note to self: I LOVE fried balls of goat cheese!

I overheard the person next to me order potato soup, which I didn’t see on the menu, and I love potatoes so I ordered that too. It was more like puree than soup but it was good. And she didn’t look at me like I was crazy when I asked if I was supposed to eat the leeks in the middle or if they were just for decoration.

Much more soup than it looks like here. Warm & filling.

I also got a piece of cheesecake. I got strawberries on the top instead of their fruit topping that had orange liquor in it. I don’t do alcohol. It was so divine. Tiny bites of delicious cheesecake and strawberries with my eyes closed to good jazz music. Amazing.

Mmmmm... Heaven on a plate

Even the silverware intrigued me. The forks are anorexic but the spoons make up for it.


And as I sat there I watched the staff. They interacted and joked with each other and with the musicians. They smiled and laughed. Most of them didn’t seem to hate being there. The manager was welcoming guests and the musician introduced him as a fellow musician. The musician gave props to the bartenders. It was a cool environment. The team worked.

It was very different than my experience at Bing Crosby’s where nobody talks, the wait staff is invisible and there is a general attitude that they’re better than the customer. At Croce’s it wasn’t like that. It was warm. I felt at home. And when I left I felt full of something other than French fries and regret. I missed Sacha though. The music tonight was good. It was fun and upbeat, but she’s powerful. The two together might make me melt. ;)

I wrote in my journal, “For $32 and a tip tonight I got a goat cheese salad, potato soup, cheesecake with strawberries, a Sprite, the perfect corner table, great service & some awesome jazz music. (big sigh) The happiness is worth it.”

When I left Croce’s, I took the trolley back to East County and met N-. We went to Fridays. I had a strawberry lemonade and some mashed potatoes. I love potatoes. He talked about cars and airplanes and school and family. Mostly I just listened. And I wondered what he thought of the listening.

As I listened to his thoughts about school and the future and his schedule I thought about how different we are. I didn’t really have anything to say. At least nothing that was relevant. And I had taken some meds on the trolley so I wouldn’t throw up that were making me tired. I literally said almost nothing, except for something about the origin of blue raspberry and asking a few questions. (AT – I have nothing to offer.) I was witnessing his stream of consciousness. He seems so happy. And determined. And figured out. I felt like an observer.

I like N-. He’s like the perfect guy. Family-oriented, studying to be a doctor, loves music, goes to church, doesn’t drink, sings. I don’t know if he dances. He even lives in east county. Go figure. I don’t want to feel so separate. I don’t want to feel so empty.

Tonight was a good night.

©Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Family

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5-23-10                 6ish pm

I invite – to do things occasionally. She never comes, which is fine. She does a lot of things with her family. She mentions her grandmother and godmother. It makes me wonder.

What is life like with a family? What is it like to have holidays and birthdays? Gatherings of people you will always have some connection to? I know families can get stressful and ugly, but I’d like to experience one that’s not.

I don’t really know how a family’s supposed to work. It was just me and my mom and eventually the cat. I would steal Mags’ words that my mom is an emotional cactus, but cacti are predictable. My mom’s more like a Venus fly trap. She’s all nice and beautiful until you get close enough to touch and then she eats you alive.

—

Dad was always a stress and seeing G- rarely less than traumatic. Holidays involved driving and guilt and many gifts. We spent some at my adopted grandma’s with her crazy family, some at home, some at my best friend’s house. But I never belonged. They’re not my family.

2:25am

I don’t know what it’s like to have more than one blood relative to choose from to list as an emergency contact, to have children around, or to witness a relationship of any kind. I have a family. They just don’t have me. You know? I don’t understand how it’s supposed to be.

No Peace

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5-23-10                 5:36pm

I wish my mom would just let me be. There is no peace in my house, little when I’m out. She’s constantly contacting me. Last night she sent at least ten texts wanting to know where I was, what I was doing, if I knew how to get there, what time it was over, if I got a seat, if I was still there. For God’s sake. I sit at the computer and she’s constantly asking me questions and to do things that are neither her tasks or related to what I’m doing. She “thinks” (assumes) I will do things or magically know what she’s thinking or wants me to do. Then she gets mad when I don’t do what she thought. THOUGHT. Key word.

She says she’s mad because I never help her around the house, but she never asks me to do anything that helps or affects HER. Like today she was mad I didn’t put my makeup in the bathroom. But it’s MY makeup on MY floor in MY room. It’s MY business. She always wants the table cleaned off, though she is constantly moving my things and adding to piles I’ve worked hard to pare down. So I started to work on the table today and she got mad about where I was putting my papers. I said, “If you want this stuff off the table, you don’t get to say where it goes. It’s not yours.”

She’s finally stopped yelling at me most nights. That’s good. But nothing’s ever good enough for her. My shirt is too low. My pants are too long. I spend too much money. Yes, she bitches about MY money too. I can’t do laundry. She asks me for directions but refuses to follow them, then gets angry at me when we’re late. What? There is no peace.

And when I cannot stand being around her and leave she calls and texts again and again. It’s fucking insane. People wonder why I stopped taking her calls when I moved to LA. This is why. There is no peace. It’s also why I like going places alone and why the peace of the hospital is comforting.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Health & Dreams

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5-23-10                 4:28pm

I feel so overwhelmed today. The tension is so high I have to breathe through my mouth or my face just might explode. My cheek bones hurt.

I caught the early bus, the one that takes twice as long to the trolley. I can’t stand it in my house or around my mom. She drives me nuts. I don’t know when she forgot how to have fun or started believing fun is bad. But no matter what I do it’s wrong to her, makes her mad. (Our bus driver doesn’t know where she’s going.)

I knew today would be difficult because the last two were wonderful. I had two healthy days. And in those days I did a ton of stuff. I went to a ROCO meeting, toured Edgemoor, saw my neuro, ate Chinese food twice, sang at the gospel festival, went out to dinner, attended a suicide conference, got my hair cut, went to Body Rock and enjoyed The Shout House. I walked farther than I usually can. My body didn’t hurt. I lifted things, felt happy, had energy. I even took the stairs at the Civic several times. I felt normal. I felt happy.

Going to Body Rock last night was an exposure. I’ll admit I cried through the first number and wanted to leave but I’m glad that I stayed. I had a great time. I’m proud of myself. I did something new, out of my comfort zone, sat through the anxiety and enjoyed it. And I went to The Shout House and sang. It was great. I hadn’t been there since my 21st birthday. On the way home I was gifted a horrible headache that made it hard to breathe, but the night was worth it. So were the days.

I woke up today feeling calm and happy. Warm sun feels good now on my back. I feel trapped. A good friend posted on FB last night about giving up her dream. I want to help her, to listen, but I can’t if she won’t let me. I need that magic dress. Not being able to do anything hurts. My body feels heavy. I tingle. I just can’t get it out of me. If I could tell her anything it would be not to give up her dream. She might not get it back.

As I watched Body Rock I needed to dance, and having two mostly symptom-free days I let my mind wander, hope. I thought about dancing again, taking classes, performing, watching shows. All the stuff that I love. It seemed possible. Just maybe I could have that again. It didn’t escape me that 2 days is 2 days, but it felt good just to dream.

When I gave up performing I didn’t think it would be forever. I don’t mean singing in a choir. I mean being a star. I didn’t think that I couldn’t have it back. That I would see myself someday singing at the bar of The Shout House just to sing. I didn’t see that. It’s kind of like giving your child voluntarily to the foster care system and just hoping they treat it well. It will never be the same. They say going back to school is harder the longer you’re out. It’s nothing compared to losing or hiding or pausing a dream. Because the dream never goes away. It haunts me. I’m different now, but it’s still the same dream.

I keep thinking of the Rainer Maria Rilke wisdom from “Letters to a Young Poet” that if when you wake up in the morning you can think of nothing but writing then you’re a writer. Or of dancing you’re a dancer, etc. When I don’t do what I am I’m not happy. And when I’m not happy, I’m not me.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Lunch

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5-19-10                 1:20am

So, M- was at it again today making me think. Today’s question:

What are you having for lunch today darlings?

A simple question, I thought. However, the complexity of an answer lies not in the question itself but in who’s answering it. And the answers astounded me.

  • Poached eggs
  • Miso soup, edamame and green kombucha tea
  • Coffee
  • Leftover dim sum goodies – sticky rice, turnip cakes, a random siu mai
  • Grass
  • Banana cream pie yogurt
  • Country stew chicken
  • Fried chicken
  • Kung pau chickin
  • Chicken Katsu
  • Wallaby raspberry yoghurt (followed by existential question about the spelling of yogurt)
  • granola bar

My answer?

  • Lunch? I haven’t made it to breakfast yet. I’m debating over Honey Nut Cheerios or hot dogs.

Now, I’ve thought about this on and off all day. And I pondered it as I ate the microwaved hot dogs I finally settled on for breakfast. What does the food I eat mean about me?

I don’t know what half the things those people named are. I’d like to be in the category of people who eat them, but I’m not. Grass? Really? I don’t understand why people pay lots of money for organic grass to eat like a starving child in Africa. Do they even eat grass in Africa? Animals eat grass, right? The raspberry yoghurt existential question response made me laugh and then gag. Like, really? Wow.

My main foods are hot dogs, burritos, tacos, an occasional sandwich or frozen dinner, ramen, and whatever I can find in my fridge in the middle of the night. Tonight it was milk and cheese. I eat like a bachelor, and a poor one at that. But I really don’t know any different. And I wouldn’t be caught dead eating grass.

I don’t quite understand foods that are out of my price range or out of my class. And every class has their foods. I went to a dim sum restaurant in LA once with my friend Shana. She was so excited to take me there. I told her I don’t do ethnic but she was convinced I’d love it. She and her boyfriend and I waited outside for like an hour for a table, during which time I noted the B rating from the health department displayed proudly in the window. I was compliant. I tried things. Hated them all. Left starving.

Maybe it’s in my genes to like poor-people food. I don’t know. I’d take a corn dog from 7-11 any day over dim sum. I’ve tried sushi several times trying to convince myself that eventually I’ll like it. No luck. And word to the wise – do NOT buy sushi from 7-11. ;)

It’s kind of tricky because I WANT to try new foods (even though I hate trying new things), but I don’t want to find a new food that I like and cannot afford to eat. You know? And I don’t cook. And I don’t want to cook…

(sigh) My head hurts. I can’t think anymore now.

Lunch. Such a complex thing.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Gospel Festival!

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So, I’ve been working really hard to get this gospel festival together and it’s finally going to happen this Friday. Not like I’d planned but it will be fun anyway. If you’re near San Diego, please come check it out. There might be one more choir joining us. Not sure yet.

All the info is here http://sandiego.backpage.com/Events/gospel-festival-friday-cuyamaca-college/6264350. The FB Event page is here http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=109070089137330.

Thank God for Dr. N

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5-17-10                 1pm

I appreciate my doctor today. He’s awesome. He may not know what’s wrong with me but he certainly does care.

I left him a copy of “I don’t know” is NOT acceptable at the hospital on Friday. I knew it was him calling this morning super early but I was too tired to pick up the phone. When he called again I knew I had to. I was so tired I was having trouble understanding what he said but the parts I got make me smile. He said he can see I’m very angry and that I have reason to be. He said, ““It’s not usually my practice to make stuff up and lie to people.” Lol. He said he’s not trained in neurology and therefore can’t help me with that but that he’ll do everything he can to help me with the psych stuff and that I can call him any time. (smile) I just want to hug him!

I hate phone calls when I’m sleeping but this one was good. :) Thank God for Dr. N.

©Michelle Routhieaux 2010