No Harm No Foul

My neck is all swollen and sore today and the possible causes are as follow:
1. I have neck cancer and didn't know it but now my neck is going to turn into one big tumor and I'll die a slow but well-documented death, La Boheme-style.

2. I gave head for too long in the car on the way home from California.

3. I slept wrong last night.

While I am pulling for Number 1, because it has the kind of flair and assurance that would mean all eyes on me for my remaining time on this Earth Plane, just how I like things to be. I would weakly cough up some blood, take a lot of laudenaum, and finally be EXPECTED to lie still on the couch, rather than be chastised for doing so. Number 3 is the most distinct conclusion.
And get your mind out of the gutter on Number 2. Like I would ever say that if it was true.

This morning, I woke up on my stomach, with my arms tucked under my chest like a bird, and my head hanging off of the end of my bed, not really hanging off but more like wedged between the end of the bed and the wall. Under my neck were no less four pillows and I could be wrong, but I am pretty positive that this sleeping arrangement would cause some short-term damage.
Which is nothing new to me.

While camping this weekend, I was generously offered a lovely mummy-bag, under the stars. It was plenty warm and stunningly beautiful but I couldnít fall asleep if my life had depended on it. My problem? I couldnít move around. I need to be free to Activate Ninja while I sleep and being confined just freaked me out.
I ended up tripping over to my Honda and settling in the backseat with my dog.
Unfortunately, while I was able to rock and roll all night long in my dreams, pumping my fists in the air, and waving my arms like I just donít care, I was in the back seat of my car and failed to apply foresight to the fact that I was sleeping on the seatbelt things. The big, plastic, seatbelt things that I woke up to find had crippled me in the night by making indentations in my hips and thighs that might require surgery to correct.

Itís no wonder I have a hard time sleeping. I donít know a whole lot of my dreams but whatever they are, they must be something that requires a violent and commanding physical response from me. I rarely sleep in a way that doesnít have awesome cage-fighting moves that I could never execute by the waking light of day.

Knowing that I am a dangerous sleeper, I really need to consider implementing some safeties, starting with a headboard and ending with some straps or maybe some kind of pulley system that would allow me to move around in my sleep but not to twist up into demonic positions that require a 45 minute hot shower to fully un-twist from.
Seriously, I am going to die in my sleep and it's not going to be from a heart attack or stroke.
It's not uncommon for me to wake up with a sheet wrapped around my neck like a paschmina and a blanket tucked eerily across my head, holding it down like that time in the special room at the hospital.

I camped this weekend.
Here's what I learned, in no particular order. First, I learned that I am smarter than I give myself credit for being. I joke but seriously... I surprise myself with knowledge. Second of all, I am a freak-show of nit-picking and dissatisfaction. Even my consummate Partner in Picky, the D Queen, sagely advised that I was being too much of a pretty, pretty princess and that I really needed to step off a little.
Interesting Ė Something I suspected but have yet to fully comprehend. Does she meanÖ. listen to other people? Or does she mean ďYouíre not always correct and you canít always get your way?Ē
I need to think about this one, as youíll see; I need to think about it A LOT. Read on Reader:
Third, I have no idea how to act right with boys. I like a boy, he treats me really well, I assume he doesn't like me very much because normally, when I think someone like me a lot, by now the object of my attention is obsessed with me and naming our children and I've bailed him out of jail at least once.
Normal courtship has eluded me and now, faced with it, I am waking up from sweaty sleep with my head in a home-made vise.

What the hell do you do with someone who keeps opening doors and who says the coolest things - things that make you want to believe REAL BAD that maybe, MAYBE, it's possible that you are not destined for a life of hiding in a closet to get some peace away from an alcoholic boyfriend.
I think I'm asking.
I need advice on how to not drive away a good person, which is my usual modus operendi because, normally, driving away a good person means that I will be off the hook for being accountable.


But the problem is that I WANT to be accountable.
I want to be good.
I want to share my family and I want to count on someone else, as well as having someone sober and smart counting on me.
I want to be reliable and homey for someone else.
I want these things and I know I am fucking retarded about them, in that I donít have the slightest idea how they get manifested. I donít know how to be with people who can offer the things I really want in my life, I donít know how to do it.

I need some confidence people.
I know I'm pretty but that's all I've got so far and believe me, good people?
They care a lot more about other stuff than they care about how pretty your hair is.

Shit I am going to have to buckle down. I did this at work, I got confident and consistent and successful so I figure I can do it in my personal life, too. I can find a way to walk around without being on the edge of tears, without feeling put-down or not good enough, and without being terrified that I will give the wrong answer and find myself waiting by a silent telephone.

It's cool. I need to do this regardless of dudes and aggressive sleeping habits and a sorry shithole apartment. I'm down to like, 2 friends and I really do need to apply some of the work-growth to home-growth and get on with what is actually a lovely little life.
I am more than just pretty - maybe it's time to act right.
Maybe it's time to quit hiding from bad boyfriends and quite ignoring the phone when it does ring.
I guess in the end, it's so much more a matter of standing up and walking, you know, rather than thinking about and discussing walking or whatever.
It's just a matter of acting right and not theorizing and blogging and whining and thinking about my effing emotions 24/7.

I know I can get up and carry myself straight and I know that is all I need to do to have some friends and to have the relationship that I have always wanted to have.
And if I don't?
If things turn out that I am actually not as capable of standing up at home the way I finally did at work?

No harm, no foul, I guess... I can always go back to couch-sitting, whining, and beating the crap out of stuff while I sleep.

arizonasarah at 10:01 a.m.

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