Everything Changes

Everything changes in the small instability of the things we discover without wanting to. Everything changes in the shrouded space of infinitesimal moments that hang alone and incoherent in their closeness but sum up to the vector state of unwilling transition when we back up far enough to see the whole. Everything changes in the lockjaw seizure of time that threads through us like fine wire, mapping the grid where our bodies touch the air and the space and the isolated lives that flow around us. Everything changes in the wanting to go back to the time before you became aware that time was passing. Everything changes in the need to go back to the place where need placed you. Everything changes in the fear that wakes you from the dreams of the things you’re afraid of. Everything changes in the night that reminds you of how many days you’ve missed. Everything changes in the space of the time that passed while the emptiness grew inside you. Everything changes in the time it takes for the space of that emptiness to fill itself with the love that life makes. Everything changes with the life that love makes. Everything changes with the loss of the life that love was. Everything changes.


Back At It

A confession. I apparently have a really high pain threshold, such that even though i’m an abject coward and hate experiencing pain, things i inadvertently do that cause pain don’t bother me very much or for very long. As such, i’ve always felt a mildly condescending attitude toward people who say they’ve put their back out and act like that’s the end of the world, quietly wondering to myself how bad it could possibly be, and why don’t they just suck it up, et al.

I haven’t posted anything here for three weeks because about three weeks ago, i put my back out for the very first time ever. Three weeks of unable-to-move heating pad bed-rest while tripling-dosing muscle relaxants, ibuprofen, and acetaminophen (after checking with the proper authorities that the latter two are compatible for such stuff with no risk of kidney-destroying overdose, as they affect different pain pathways), and i scoff no longer.


When I Wake Up

So i discovered that Caitlin (younger daughter) absolutely hates the song “500 Miles” by the Proclaimers. Knowing this, one of the next times she asked me to buy music for her, i skillfully substituted the track she wanted with a copy of “500 Miles” with the name and artist info changed. She put it on her iPod without playing it in iTunes first and got very riled. So the next time she asked me to buy music for her, i did exactly the same thing, except i edited the fake track so that it would play the first 30 seconds of the real track at the beginning before kicking in to “500 Miles”, because i knew she would check just the first bit in iTunes this time before she put it on her iPod. She was even more riled.

Having kids is fun.