the sky is tall and heavy when i could be

waking up at ten-thirty and being relatively well-rested but a tiny bit groggy from the meds is sort of nice. oh yes, and by meds i mean i sprained something called my trapezeus (trapezius? trapezeous? my trapezoid? trapeze?), which is in my shoulder. we all have one, says the doctor. and we would look pretty funny without it. the doctor's first name was sigmund. but his last name wasn't freud. don't worry.

what's funny is memory, and how present that can be for me. i just see or replay my memories sometimes, and then it's like the person is there for me, or the time is happening again, and it's a really nice thing mostly--especially when i'm talking with someone on the phone or thinking about them, i can see them well and hear their voice and know what they would say. and that's nice, especially when i miss someone. but also, a little hard. there are some memories i would like to forget, really, or at least the many different versions of the same behavior, like a particularly nasty argument, or doing something dumb, or whatever.

it will be nice to remember the devastator in this way, though, seeing her, but it will also be very hard. especially in the beginning. i have one more to go. the fifteenth. i would appreciate thoughts and prayers, really, to know what i do know, as the innocence mission would say.

i have a lot of things to get done today: finally fucking go to the post office, that's one. run a few errands, including the grocery (maybe, i might save that for tomorrow), and the law library for work, and then finally answer ms j-do's survey, and i would say update this but look what's happened! done and done.

oh yes, and i watched CSI for the very first time last night and i think i'm hooked. which of course, the rest of the modern world is, like, so totally over it, like, for real, but i think i'm going to rent the first season anyway.

right? right.