Tag Archives: writing

Uisge-beatha hold the beatha

This is what I sometimes keep next to my bed at night — just in case?!?!?!

I figured out that I do this because I have a sincere fear of being without water or a beverage of some kind at all times. It’s a real thing. I’ve met one other person with this fear in real life but it’s why I bring open solo cups full of ice and water everywhere I go now (with at least two other bottles of water in my purse).

And since taking about this on social media I’ve found even more people who do this!

I can leave my phone at home and the only thing that will upset me about that is if I hear a song that I like — wherever I am — and I can’t use my phone to listen to it so I can add it to my Spotify playlist(s).

But if I leave without a beverage — serious panic ensues.

Over the years this has escalated to the point that I have at least 2 bottles of water in my bag everywhere I go AND I walk around with a solo cup full of ice water in addition to those bottles.

I’m on day 12 — which is no little thing for me.

I’ve already noticed a few changes.

For one, my schedule is effed.

I’ve been waking up between 1:00 AM and 3:45 AM. Because of that I have to try to translate my time schedule to my Mom based on my waking up at 8:00 AM.

Does that make sense?

If not, let’s say I woke up at 2:00 AM, I’m 6 hours behind 8:00 AM. So I explain that when she leaves for work around 9:00 AM it already feels like 3:00 PM for me, based on my waking up at 8:00 AM. Okay. I think that’s clear.

And to utilize the most useless expression of all time, “needless to say”: when my Mom gets home from work a bit after 6:00 PM (most days), then it feels like midnight for me, using that same example of my 2:00 AM wake-up and assuming a schedule of me waking up at 8:00 AM accounting for the 6 hour difference.

I hate math. But I can count to ten in Scottish Gaelic as of yesterday, so, I’m kind of a big deal πŸ˜‰.

I sometimes wonder if my obsession with beverages is a genuine fear — like someone’s fear of bridges or being buried alive — OR — if it has a more practical purpose.

Maybe I hoard beverages because my body is still constantly screaming “you’re so dehydrated you a-hole! Liquid-ate me up, B!”

I used to think this was because of the nights before, but clearly it’s not. It’s my Disease.

It also might account for why I bring my Mom’s lawn guy and my mail carrier water all summer long.

I spend approximately 7 minutes an hour getting more water. I usually mix it with a zero calorie beverage with taste to lessen the blow, unless I’m leaving the house when I just drink water.

Basically I fill my solo cup with ice and then fill what space is left with that zero calorie ish.

I do this with 2 cups to keep my water intake up as much as possible. And I go through both cups every hour all day long.

Every 53 minutes

It’s too bad my Doctors won’t just let me get an in-home IV drip. I’ve only been hospitalized for dehydration — I don’t know how many times nowπŸ™„. But it wasn’t okay every time it happened, I do remember that.

I’ve been tearing through my reading lately. I am so happy to find things to read that I can’t put down again.

While reading the book my face is currently buried in, I became suddenly aware that my body is a lot weaker than I’d like it to be if for no other reason than practical ones, like if I needed strength for — I don’t know — anything?

So this morning as soon as I saw the sun come up I started with 40 minutes of yoga. A 30 minute beginner class and a 10 minute morning class.

And this was not only awesome, but it definitely did the trick because I felt muscles working that I have not felt in awhile.

So there’s that!

I’m still practicing Scottish Gaelic for hours — about 4 or more on average — per day.

For those of you not familiar with the Duolingo app — they kind of pit you against other people in what they call “leagues.” I don’t really love it because in every league I rack up a lot of points, and people then try to put me in my place by beating my score. What they don’t realize is I’m only playing against myself.

This isn’t a matter of pride.

It’s not a game!

I’m just practicing as much as possible so I really and truly LEARN the language. And it’s working. But I guess good for them for practicing so much too? πŸ™‚

So an early wake-up means an early bedtime, and a natural one at that.

I’ve just been listening to my body, and when it’s ready to sleep I can tell, and I let it. Whatever time that happens to be.

I’ve been listening to music of COURSE, as well, usually while I’m getting my ice cups ready.

I have been listening to a lot of Eminem’s “Recovery” album. I can’t imagine why.

I read this every day.

I can’t find it at the moment, but I watched an interview in which when asked HOW he rhymes words and puts them together in the way he does — Eminem basically says that his brain just does that 24/7 and it’s not something he can ever turn off — and although he spoke about it like it was a curse and a Blessing — all I could think was — okay so his thoughts are always just conjuring genius.

He amazes me.

After watching that interview — I remember thinking that although I cannot relate to his genius — I certainly understand it.

I’m always conjuring — then — very carefully — shaping words, sentences, and ideas for public consumption. A LOT of things go through my head at once pretty much 24/7 as well. I’m always thinking about words and their effect.

Sometimes in an attempt to quiet my mind I dive into music — and Eminem’s sick use of language immediately appealed to me from the time I was 15 years old.

11:30 A.M.

If I’m absolutely losing my ish — I’m supposed to listen to music according to my previous therapist who practiced Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT). And you would NOT be able to figure out what “sort” of person I am from listening to my Spotify playlists — they are so random.

I wonder if this is just how a Writer’s mind works. Or just a creative mind? I cannot imagine that there are that many people walking around with the manic thoughts that I’m constantly desperate to write down somewhere. But how would anyone know?

My Mom is going to hate this but I’ve tasked her with providing a reason why she doesn’t like me writing on myself when nothing else is available — and I’m still waiting. You also get a peak of my super cute hipster bike, and some gardening ish in the background — lucky you!!!!! πŸ˜‚



As a sidebar: an enemy of Em’s is an enemy of mine. I would have liked to check out your music, bro, but if you’re straight up lying about things Em’s done and other ish just for attention tryna blow up — I can’t respect that.

Why Eminem doesn’t care for MGK — EXPLICIT

I told one of my closest and dearest friends (who is more like a sister now, which I’m very grateful for, having been abandoned by my sister by blood: Hillary Joan now if a different last name) yesterday that I want to get a “tramp stamp” of the name EMINEM as soon as possible.

I explained I’ve been listening to his song “W.T.P.” too much in which Em raps: “She’s got a tattoo of me right above her ass, man
In the streets of Warren, Michigan we call ’em tramp stamps
That means she belongs to me, time to put the damn clamps down and show this hussy who’s the man
Now, get amped, dance!”

My friend and I were also talking about irony at the time.

Then we both talked about how we have more than a handful of tattoos in our respective queues to get when we can afford them. I have at least 7 I’ve mapped out.

I’m serious about the EMINEM tattoo as long as it doesn’t intervene with the other tattoo I’ll have going down my spine. Hear me out.

The Eminem Show album

Eminem saved my life in sort of the same way that Captain Jack Sparrow did. His music kept me from killing myself, particularly the song “Sing for the Moment” from his album “The Eminem Show” which came out when I was first experiencing depression but didn’t understand what to do about it yet.

Eventually — I spoke up to my Mom as I’ve mentioned before, but with Eminem’s music in my ear, I was able to hold on until I was able to ask for help.

So honestly, as far as tattoos go, I think tattooing the name of people/characters who kept you from killing yourself are not only validated — but earned and deserved.

And my ink has ALWAYS been for me and only me anyway.

The artist who did my Captain Jack Sparrow tattoo tried to convince me to turn it 180Β° so other people could see it clearly and I unequivocally said, what on Earth makes you think I’d ever mark my body for anyone but myself?

She didn’t answer — and I’m definitely not judging people who do what she suggested because I think tattoos are sexy AF. I’m not a fan of face or leg tattoos, but please, the more the better in whatever way you want as far as I’m concerned.

In the meantime, I’ll keep planning my future tattoos out meticulously. And, I’ll give the one large significant tattoo which adorns my body “the main event” attention and appreciation it deserves. It feels especially special because it’s the only one people usually see. And there’s something significant about that too.

In conclusion, I’m killing it, in a good way: music 🎢🎡🎢🎡🎢🎡🎢🎡🎢🎡🎢; reading πŸ“šπŸ“–πŸ“™πŸ“˜πŸ“—πŸ“•; writing βœοΈβœοΈπŸ“œπŸ“πŸ–ŠοΈπŸ–‹οΈπŸ“–; hydrating πŸ’§πŸ₯€πŸΆπŸ₯›πŸš°πŸ§‰; learning Scottish Gaelic πŸ΄σ §σ ’σ ³σ £σ ΄σ ΏπŸ΄σ §σ ’σ ³σ £σ ΄σ ΏπŸ΄σ §σ ’σ ³σ £σ ΄σ ΏπŸ΄σ §σ ’σ ³σ £σ ΄σ ΏπŸ΄σ §σ ’σ ³σ £σ ΄σ ΏπŸ€ŸπŸ‘©β€πŸ«πŸŸ πŸ“™πŸ§‘; yoga & ballin’πŸ§˜β€β™€οΈπŸ§˜β€β™€οΈπŸ§˜β€β™€οΈπŸ§˜β€β™€οΈπŸ§˜β€β™€οΈπŸš΄β€β™€οΈπŸšΆβ€β™€οΈπŸš²β›ΉοΈβ€β™€οΈπŸ€

Uisge-beatha means “whisky” in Scottish Gaelic. And uisge by itself means “water. “

Do you see the difference?

Because I’m sure starting to.

Math fhΓ¨in, meaning, “Excellent.”

As always be good to one another ❀️🎢✌🏿✌🏻✌🏾✌🏼✌🏽!!!!!