Binary Hallucination

My mom’s birthday was a few days ago and I went to dinner with my parents. As I was sitting at the table, across from my aging progenitors, all of a sudden I saw myself sitting on the trunk of a car on the side of the road with the parts under the hood smoking. A dust storm swirled around me and crossed the deserted road. I waited for something, anything, to come along. There was no water. I sat sweating and wishing I had planned better. After a while, I began to see things: animals, pools of water in the distance, people that didn’t respond to the sound of my voice. Their visages seemed friendly but when I extended my hand, they disappeared.

Isolation is a strange drug; whether in a crowded room or trapped in a desert squall, you begin to question your reality. Your brain begins inventing. Maybe you see more clearly? Perhaps it is all a dream? Who is to say?

There was recently a real illusion, one veiled by ones and zeros. I perceived closeness with something that was not really there. I shouted to the mirage that slid past me and slipped into the distance, just to raise its awareness. There was no response, just a continual steady gait away from me. Then I screamed at it. Nothing. I began to throw things to attract attention but to no avail. The image crossed the horizon and was gone. I sobbed, feeling more discouraged and alone than when I had the company of an apparition, even for a fleeting moment.

The hallucination was more comforting than the truth. Now there is nothing.

Public Service Announcement

After much thought, deliberation and stress eating, I have decided to make my blog private. Congratulations Reader, you have made the cut. Happy Holidays! All those other suckers have the option to ask for permission to read my private thoughts and ridiculous stories or find someone else to stalk/psychoanalyze.

It is possible that I have become a wee bit overprotective but I want my privacy, at least for a little while.

Hoping to See Queen Frostine

My house smells like Christmas: pine boughs, apple cider, cinnamon, and the smell of warm food. The aroma is mostly my doing, although the tree was a family project. When we brought it home, set it up in the stand and cut the netting, it unfolded into the most full and beautiful tree we have ever had. I decided that we should invite Scott, Amy, the babies and the Hathawastills to help us decorate. I made the phone calls then I went grocery shopping. We had a inaugural holiday bash with citrus-honey glazed chicken, risotto, red potatoes, carrots and guacamole from scratch (random, I know).

After the tree was wrapped with ribbon, lights and dripping with ornaments the guests left and I found myself lying in the dark. The only illumination in the room was the glow from the tiny twinkle lights. I breathed in the familiar evergreen smell. What a perfectly obnoxious time for unwanted thoughts to bombard one’s brain.

I remembered last Christmas, one that I thought at the time, marked the beginning of a new life, a holiday that wasn’t colored by solitude. I felt like I was nearly to the end of the board waiting to meet up with King Kandy and then I drew the freaking purple Plumpy card and had to go back to the very beginning. That green monster with a smirk always made me want to throw a tantrum.

Being an adult is hard, especially when you are stuck at the first square again, hoping to draw a pink and blue snowflake with the face of cartoon royalty.