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Happy Birthday, Max
Feb. 25th, 2019 12:35 pmSo! Am I feeling awful because I’m not sleeping properly, or am I not sleeping properly because I’m feeling awful?
Last night’s 2am film fest was a truly terrible cinematic version of Ballet Shoes, the classic Noel Streatfield novel that I love-love-loved when I was a kid.
I chose it because it starred Rami Malek’s purported gf, and I use the word “purported” in the true Tom Cruise sense of the word.
The movie was ghastly. Completely Harry Potter-fied.
But it put me to sleep.
###
When I woke up again, I was singing Racetrack Cuda to myself—
Racetrack Cuda on a Saturday night
Racetrack Cuda
I think you’re all right
“Cuda” was the nickname I bestowed upon the infant Max because he breastfed—well. Like a little barracuda!
It’s his birthday today. I wasn’t actually going to call him because last time we talked, he had me on the meter. (I’m studying, Mom. I can talk to you for exactly 20 minutes.)
But he called me.
And it seems he has a nice relaxing day planned—a hike with the gf, possibly a movie (which means sex afterwards!) tonight.
These details are pertinent because tomorrow he retakes the Bar.
I could get nauseated over that one if I let myself.
But he’s sounding quietly confident and relaxed about it. If he weren’t feeling quietly confident and relaxed about it, he’d be torturing himself by obsessively studying all day today.
So you know. I got him the tutoring. I think the tutoring paid off. There is nothing more that I can do at this point: It’s between Max, the Universe and the California Bar Association.
###
As usual, when I feel this type of awful, I’m very jittery and despondent. You are the most worthless human being on the planet! sez the little Inner Voice—which is a provable lie because there are many, many other people whose moral and/or financial value is considerably less than my own.
I’m fighting off the urge to cry.
I don’t know what I’d be crying about.
It’s below freezing, and the winds are howling.
Still, I think it would be beneficial to go for a long tromp in the icy outdoors.
If nothing else, it would remind me how blessed I am to have a roof over my head and not to be a refugee from Central America or the Middle East.
Last night’s 2am film fest was a truly terrible cinematic version of Ballet Shoes, the classic Noel Streatfield novel that I love-love-loved when I was a kid.
I chose it because it starred Rami Malek’s purported gf, and I use the word “purported” in the true Tom Cruise sense of the word.
The movie was ghastly. Completely Harry Potter-fied.
But it put me to sleep.
###
When I woke up again, I was singing Racetrack Cuda to myself—
Racetrack Cuda on a Saturday night
Racetrack Cuda
I think you’re all right
“Cuda” was the nickname I bestowed upon the infant Max because he breastfed—well. Like a little barracuda!
It’s his birthday today. I wasn’t actually going to call him because last time we talked, he had me on the meter. (I’m studying, Mom. I can talk to you for exactly 20 minutes.)
But he called me.
And it seems he has a nice relaxing day planned—a hike with the gf, possibly a movie (which means sex afterwards!) tonight.
These details are pertinent because tomorrow he retakes the Bar.
I could get nauseated over that one if I let myself.
But he’s sounding quietly confident and relaxed about it. If he weren’t feeling quietly confident and relaxed about it, he’d be torturing himself by obsessively studying all day today.
So you know. I got him the tutoring. I think the tutoring paid off. There is nothing more that I can do at this point: It’s between Max, the Universe and the California Bar Association.
###
As usual, when I feel this type of awful, I’m very jittery and despondent. You are the most worthless human being on the planet! sez the little Inner Voice—which is a provable lie because there are many, many other people whose moral and/or financial value is considerably less than my own.
I’m fighting off the urge to cry.
I don’t know what I’d be crying about.
It’s below freezing, and the winds are howling.
Still, I think it would be beneficial to go for a long tromp in the icy outdoors.
If nothing else, it would remind me how blessed I am to have a roof over my head and not to be a refugee from Central America or the Middle East.
