Been sloughing about in my familiar fog of arsiness - '...house is horrible, want to do something nice but can't til house is less horrible....' ad infinitum. All that counselling and I'm still doing this? And add this to the '...want to earn money but have no real way of doing it.... useless...talentless.... sociopathic.... lazy.... zzzzzzzzz'
I can't even bear to be in the same shower as myself.
And then, just as I'm looking for an excuse to delay going to bed and getting a good night's sleep once again I channel-hop into a documentary about John Callahan - the paraplegic cartoonist. I had one of his postcards on my wall years ago. And this film was really engaging. I felt he was like John Lydon on wheels. Odd and spiky here and there yet actually very sweet. Looking at him I thought well he must have got his feeling back in his hands to be able to draw. Then I saw him drawing - with the pen pinned between his hands. And he writes songs. And strums at a ukelele on his lap. Blows a mean harp. And sings. Really quite beautifully. Really quite beautiful songs. And I felt shamed. Embarrassed by my self-pitying lack of gumption.
The title of the film was one of his songs. 'Touch Me Where I Can Feel It' - at least I think that was it was. I didn't even 'get' how much that meant until after I'd cleaned my teeth. I thought I'll just check that on Wiki - I couldn't find that but at the bottom it said he died in July. Blimey. I feel completely bereft now. And shamed.
I had the same feeling sometime last year when I saw the film 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly' based on the book written by a man who could only communicate with the blink of one eye. Had to read the book. Read it in one night. Awed and shamed.
Every so often I need a kick up the arse. Just to remind myself of my luck. And lack. Lack of appreciation.
Now if I really did want to write that book I keep banging on about, well I just would, wouldn't I?
There's always something which comes along to give us a reality check. I felt the same way reading The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I also think again when I go to visit my parents and see my poor old dad who is now so disabled with Motor Neurone Disease that he can do virtually nothing for himself. I come home, give myself a good talking to, and love my life.
ReplyDeleteGod - MND is a real heart-breaker.
ReplyDeleteYes - despite my constant rantings I love my life really. Just feel I ought to remind myself a little more often. Scruff of neck time.
PS I love your life too!
This post is so timely for me too. I have been feeling a bit sorry for myself then I read a blog called The Nie Nie Dialogues about a woman with four children who survived a plane crash and was horrendously burned. She could no longer do all the normal things like bathe her children, in fact they didn't want to go near her and the youngest didn't recognise her and yet she still has such grit, such determination, such joie de vivre. Even making her children's packed lunch is now a joy to her because she couldn't do it for so long. I know I'm making it sound all a bit sickly, and she does have faith to sustain her which I don't share, but it really made me think how lucky I am.
ReplyDeleteI haven't seen The Diving Bell and The Butterfly - it's one of those films I keep meaning to and I will. I really like the singer/artist Edwyn Collins who used to be in Orange Juice and I watched a documentary about him coming back from a stroke/brain haemorrhage which made me feel so humble too.
I'm not so naive to think that these things will last - I'm sure I'll still be grumpy next week - but really deep down they make an impression I think and remind me. I've been thinking about Nie Nie a lot. Plus she has a cool house.
I must take a peek!
ReplyDeleteSometimes counting my blessings makes me feel even worse. I think I need to have a whinge every now and then to let it out, and I really don't appreciate having to appreciate things.
But hey......... that's what anonymous blog-ranting is for! Cheap therapy for cowards. Perfect.
There are no ups with out downs m'dear and counting blessings is a terrible waste of an afternoon. Take to drink or eat cake instead.
ReplyDeleteA very good idea. I might get a blender and drink cake.
ReplyDeleteFrom one useless, talentless, unable-to-earn-a-living waster to another: maybe we should have been born in Bronze Age times? Then we'd have just woken up every morning saying, 'Fuck me! I'm still alive!' and the day would be off on a good foot. But we'd possibly still berate ourselves for failing to tidy our Bronze-age cupboards under the stairs. If indeed we had stairs.
ReplyDeleteOn an unrelated note, I am loving your comments on my blog. Seriously funny. And the sweets - the fizzy green praline thing that exploded into shards. Yes!!! What WAS that?
ReplyDeleteI really appreciate them you know.
Hmmmmn..... NWBI - I kind of do wake up a bit like that as it is. Then I realise that my paperwork is really not in a good enough order to actually die yet, really must get that sorted just in case...... and then I fall asleep again. The very thought of paperwor....zzzzzzzzz
ReplyDeleteAhh...DB - I was slightly worried that I'd invented that memory. Knowing someone else had that green experience too is very comforting.
PS I also slightly worry that my comments on your posts are always a bit.....kind of.... 'never mind about that lovely piece of writing, listen to me, ME, M E and and my twisted take on the world'. Don't mean to be you know but life-long psychoses are hard to break. Thank you for your gracious patience!