Over at Zen Habits (a great blog, BTW), people have a habit of posting the following comment:


“Great post, Leo!”


I think it should be a drinking game: you drink a shot every time someone posts that comment (or minor variants thereof).  That would not be a very Zen habit at all.  But how Zen is it to just post- I can’t even bear to type it again.  Sorry.


This post at Cheeky Pink Girl– a wonderfully thoughtful (and smart, and interesting) blog- is about me.

Charlotte- the blog’s author- is the only person that I could have even mentioned these things to. (Jack- bless his heart-has circuit overload when I try to talk about it. He’s wired a bit differently than most, too: don’t judge). Char and I had the most wonderful, loving phone discussion. When I say love, I mean tough love: the kind that she knew I really needed.

Usually I am an optimistic person, but sometimes the dark clouds take over- for instance, severe lasting physical pain brings them on, but also the winter SAD that for some reason was the worst this past winter than ever. I can get into a hole that seems to have no escape route other than exercising my free will to…well…but Char helped me find the some real escape routes: Prayer- of course; even the simplest of prayers; ways to find the right fit of a counselor; and possibly antidepressants just for the winter, and just getting the stupid light box already!!! (I had forgotten to tell her about my horrible EAP experience and our ridiculous stepfamily counseling sessions that hurt more than helped.   So my fear of finding the wrong counselor is not irrational). And then she opened up the discussion to her thoughtful and kind blog readers. People whom I have never met, and likely never will- except online!

What a blessing. What a cloud of believers on the Internet. Think about that- people’s souls- never having met IRL-, touching each other, praying for each other, in the ether, on the way to eternity. It is a beautiful thought.

Wow, I just edited that last post about twenty times trying to get one HTML link to work the way I wanted it to. How did it take me so long to get into the 21st century?

I was awake all night, creative, inspired, and feeling wonderful mentally, if not physically.  Jack was sleeping on the couch just a few feet away; his gentle snoring was a comforting rhythmic soundtrack.  My brother was facebooking me unexpectedly from Cleveland- of all places- from a train (it was 3:30 am there), and an old friend from high school was awake feeling sick and chatted with me.  I wrote and wrote and wrote, brainstorming an idea that had been just a vague nagging kernel, but overnight began to take form and shape and started to seem real, finally.  Really real and a definite possibility.  I pitched it to a person that I thought could help me make  it so. 

Birds started chirping.  The sun came up, the sky turning that translucent blue that only God could create, and that only Salvador Dali could capture in paint.   I finally fell into a deep perfect sleep around 5 am, leaving a note on the coffee pot for Jack to get me up in time for my 8am physical therapy appointment, which he did.  I love him so much.

PT was fantastic.  It “hurt so good.”  I am still not tired…I took fewer meds today, too- the best part is, I was not watching the clock waiting for the exact minute that the next doses were allowed and checking them off in my notebook.  I feel almost back to normal (for me.  My own version of normal.)

No thanks, I don’t care to see photos of Miley Cyrus naked- or clothed, for that matter.

But my first real spam comment!  I feel like I’ve somehow arrived.  (The other one was kind of thinly disguised, and I let it slide for sheer variety.)

Someday, naked photos of me may be worth just as much.  Keep reading my blog so I get famous too.  My sprite wings are voluptuous, hot, and may just incite you to write epic poetry- Jack wrote a sonnet about them, after all.

I’ve been spending so much time online lately (too hazy to be doing anything useful, I feel compelled to add), that when asleep, which is intermittent and often, I dream about my laptop…floating pain-free around the Interwebs…

And here I am again, writing about it.  This thing is not just a window; it is also a mirror, showing only a reflection of itself.