Jaimacan and Roma

My grandmother just wants to go to bed with is a euphemism for “Let me drift away from the land of the living” I can’t deal with it so I don’t visit her. My Mother is coming apart at the seams, her brother and law my Uncle is in an induced coma to get over what ails him. My Aunty is trying to get over Chicken pox and so she can’t do shit to help her husband. Mum is flying to Canberra tomorrow to help them out.

Family life is a bit crappy right now and I’m happy that my work life has stabilised. I’ve gotten closer to a few people and I’m no longer doing the TAC job. I’m in a stress free survey. Also got to sit next to someone awesome today.

It’s good that I can hold things together pretty well.  I don’t hide anything but I’m not broadcasting my situation. I’ve been keeping to myself more whilst slowly going out more often if that makes sence.

Overkill

At my work I’m speaking to accident victims and generally its an easy job, one bad call in a bunch then smooth sailing. The last two days every call I had seemed to be a horror story about car crashes and being fucked over by the TAC. I reached my quota for the pain of others and I went home. I got enough to deal with without having to listen to harrowing and deeply depressing experiences on the phone every single conversation. As stable as I am, I’m just not equiped to deal with it repeatedly. The supes at work were rather good about and so was a higher up which caught me by surprise.

I love my place of emplyment.

Motorizer

If I’m lost for an idea I find Motorhead to be reliable to get the mental jusice flowing

I got some fever

Not really sure if I’m interested, but drinks went alright. Spent the following four days feverish and watching DVD’s. Now that I’m over it I have all this energy and I’ve got no idea where it comes from or what to do with it. So much time off work makes one lax, a ten day straight stint at work will get me back into a routine and back in the game. Will continue writing and plotting in the following days and theres a piece or twwo to put up in ere.

They do that sometimes.

A film just punched me in the gut, but prehaps I needed to see it.

Whats missing.

Writing again.

Something struck at cord with me the only day, someone well respected and very damn good at what he does said someone who writes does it because they have to. I’ve been going fucking crazy not doing it, ideas are coming so are lines, but I’ve just not done it and its been maddening that I’ve tortured myself this long.

Mixed bags

Call me bad but I’ve stopped asking about Nan’s wellbeing. If she’s getting betterI’ll be told and vice versa. I find I have some things of my own to work through.

Ahh women, as much as I’m into a couple of them in good ol Melbourne and one may be interested back, I’ve still got those feelings for the girl up north. I feel it’s holding me back from going for it.

The City and I are back on good terms, there’s no hate. I often wish however the buildings I saw everyday were different.

Despite the work at work being crap, I have become very attached to the place. The people there make it bareable, but I hate not being able to just sit around and talk to them for hours on end.

Despite what I said about Nan above I’m still plagued by those 10 minutes and visions of her laying on the ground all fucked up.

Life has become a crazy mix of good and bad, which is no different I guess from any other time except they seem more intertwined than balanced.

Punishment from lost causes

I heard a noise for a period of time that might have been ten minutes before going inside to find Nan on the floor. I sit/lay/walk wondering if that ten minutes made a difference to anything at all and if I contributed to her fall from health. Then I realise she doesn’t care and that care is all I do anyway.

Another bottle of wine down, another smoke burned to the filter. Those ten minutes won’t leave me and I shake not from the cold. I have to force myself to move, to walk, to laugh and socialise, to do things I’d put off for so long just to lose focus.

Anger comes in spurts directed towards the one who feels she has more to gain in dying. Disregard towards the people who love her and helped her since her husbands passing. Anger comes from my body and its tired lungs, the ferocious hangover, the disrupted sleep patterns and dislocation in time. Anger comes from saving the life of one who doesn’t wish to be saved.

I did all I could and may have made the fracture worse helping lift you to bed. I did all I could and your organs shut down, your brain might be damaged or ahsamed and embarrassed or despairing you’re still here. You fight to join what you’ve lost, you said so.

It’s not painless.

Getting ready for bed I collected my dishes and went to take put them in the dishwasher and there she was, my Grandmother collapsed on the floor totally out of it. I rushed over to my parents woke them the hell up and Dad and I put our incoherent relative back to bed. She didn’t know where she was and her legs were slack. Dad called the Ambulance which came and took her away.

It was found out she’s stopped taking her medication and has been drinking liquids that aren’t good for a diabetic. It’s hard to wrap my brain around having a suicidal Grandmother and I’m still a bit shakey about finding her and realising she doesn’t want to be alive.

Swimming for a short time

I cannot remember when I heard a piece of music so sharp.