so i sit here listening to the 2009 "battlestar galactica" soundtrack-and the first song, actually sung by the actor who is playing the character who is singing the song-felix gaeta, is just forever one of my favorites. the soundtrack is so rich and textured and fantastic-maybe not for someone who isn't a follower or fan, but certain songs are so great they easily stand alone.
to follow that last sentence, i also feel i am standing alone. had a long talk with dad last night, who basically had said that the pain was in my head a few days ago. i did some stupid things and ended up with a terrible headache. i'm in the middle of a fibromyalgia flare, and my neurologist suddenly left town for a month, so being without my normal nerve block shots is killing me. i feel so lost, so sad, so lonely-and have no clue where or how to go from here. all i know is that a dear friend i met on flickr told me to just write, write, write. she knows i'm too sad to just write the book i had planned to write-the funny one from real experiences from my past, and she and another flickr artist suggested i mix my journey from where i am now to that funny past. mix the witty and the gritty i was told-makes sense! just like the series of the newer battlestar galactica i so love, it is so gritty and deep and endless and on a path to nowhere. their series took 4 years-i've been here three-is this the year the plan gets revealed? is this the year i start to get a sense of where the hell i'm supposed to go? what i am supposed to do? cos right now i'm not even existing. i'm a dirty, ugly, painful shell of the person i once was-and who i still am-and how to those two coexist? that is why i so identify with the character of boomer (played by the gorgeous grace park) who is two people in one. so lost yet so determined to get somewhere.
i sleep, take meds, watch tv and movies, listen to music, and get endless joy from my rabbit and cat, yet grieve daily for things that i've lost and found. dad says i can't swell on the past, and i demand i'm not-i still have the fucking right to grieve for things i haven't yet. i wasn't able to fully grieve when i had to move here for all the things that i had lost-and was going to lose. i have had to slowly take in all the things that left, that fell away, a few big things that slipped through my fingers like water even though i held on to them as if they were the strongest of ropes. were they water and i just thought that they were the rope i was wanting to see? "tears stream down your face, as you lose something you cannot replace"...that refrain from coldplay's song "fix you" is so simple yet so not-i've lost so much, yet somehow still fight to hold on, and i wonder why. why do i hold on to something i don't know-that i hate-that i don't trust-that is beyond anything i could imagine, but is so so so familiar?
