Of pachiderms

Nothing much to see here, words behaving like birds today.

Sleeping is still a problem, or rather, the waking up after a few hours is. A few days ago I was woken up by a furballing cat on the duvet at 4 am - always at 4 am - and couldn't go back to sleep till 9 am. Does wonders for my intelligence and wit. I promptly opened up a new post window and stared at it for abt an hour. I was trying to address D.'s comment but I still cannot, other than to say, it wasn't abt taking the high ground at all, sure, we need to fight back but I don't see how actually fighting with them when there were more of them than us, when our group as a whole doesn't know how to fight - are you joking? Take a look at the photograph again, do we look like we can kick any ass other than our own? I had to quit my krav maga lessons bcs they all came from martial arts and the pace was unbelievable so I ended up sparinging something every single time and only learning how to actually have the shit beaten out of me by someone who wasn't actually trying to hurt me but there you go, that's the sad amount of my proficiency and fitness. Also, they carry knives they are wont to use, we do not. Believe me, I have been thinking abt it and daydreaming of physically hitting them. I might never but I would dearly have the skill to, that'd give me some more security, that would give me a mental edge. As it is, how should we have handled it? I'm not being snarky, I really want to know what you think we could/should have done. Sad as it may be, if I ever got in a fight with some low-life neon*azis and managed to break a few noses and cause a few hard-to-heal bruises and verlasting scars - it'd be lovely! You think I'd feel bad for my fellow humans? Er, what fellow humans would that be? As it is, unless we decide upon an essay contest or wit, I will lose, easily and fast. My being stabbed or beaten into a pulp WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST CHANCE OF FIGHTING BACK, and this is the important thing to remember, won't do much to bring us out of the ghetto as far as I can see.

The title is not abt my cervix, all seems to be healing well. Experienced quite a fair amount of discomfort all of last weekend, unable to stand for long periods again and generally achey. My most excellent and knowlegdeable doctor friends told me it's a good sign, means the endometrium - which was scraped raw, all squeaky clean - was regenerating. Kudos to my endometrium then. I mean the other sort of elephant.

I haven't been mentioning Uzi a lot. I still think abt him so often it surprises me but no longer speak abt him here all that much. I feel like it's all been said bfr. More than that, I think I have lost the ability to say it. I'm often left staring at the screen. But I had this miscarriage and I couldn't tell him. And I know he'd have said at least 2 wrong things bcs he'd be tripping all over himself in his haste to comfort me, and it would have shocked the bloody hell out of him (though maybe it'd have enticed him to send me some garinim) (oh and books) - but I don't care. I don't care much what happens after we die, we cannot know for sure and by the time we do it's all a bit moot. Maybe I'll see him on a higher plane and we'll travel together as blue light blablabla. Maybe I'll reincarnate as his mother, sister, dog, owner. Fabulous. How does that help me? How does that help me now? I want him now, I need him now. NOW.

As I said, nothing much to see here.

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I may be even dafter than I fear, I very effectively forgot to write abt the most important thing: my dreams. Fitting theme for today. My dreams have been populated by babies, it's a constant pregnant landscape. I am either fleeing trying to save my babies or someone else's. People are wonded and dying and dead and as a bonus often have pieces of their faces missing, and I talk incessantly in order to convince them to help me. I run all the time, renn Lioness renn, and wake up fragmented. The most telling dream so far was one where I ran and ducked and held guns and used them and dodged bullets and looked among the ruins for survivors (gorillas take a long time to die, I'm afraid) and then finally managed to have my baby - but Uzi was too late to witness the actual birth of our child. Often when I dream of him I know he's dead and therefore spend most of my time trying to squeeze the life force out of him, as it were, trying to hold on to him, to memorise his voice, his laughter, the way his shoes sounded on the pavement, the way he walked and smelt. I have often not been able to listen to what he was saying bcs I was trying too hard to keep all of him in. This time I didn't, and from within the anger that I feel over how the whole miscarriage process was conducted - very incompetently at times, I'm still putting it all together -, from within the loss that I came to feel, this is what stands out the most, the old one, the pervaisve one, the abrasive one. I am still whole but there used to be more of me, THERE USED TO BE MORE OF ME. That embryo might have been something but it never was, it couldn0t be, I can let it go peacefully. Uzi was everything and I sometimes sleep throug it. THIS is still what hurts the most.

It doesn't much matter what you lose does it. At the end of the day, all pain gathers together namelessly in the pit of you, dragging you down, dragging you down...