14 March. Copied from journal.
Lionel still missing - forever more I suspect. He would've returned if he was able - or alive. Miss him. Grieve for him. Or would if I knew. Went through this before when he went missing. But he returned after a day. Nothing I can do. I loved him, tried to give him the best life, best opportunities, health and strength to best fit him for life in the wild. Unfortunately because of his attachment to me he kept himself aloof from other galahs, except in 'warning call' emergency when he would launch himself in flight and beat retreat with the others. He would've done that no matter where he was so what happened? Why can't he come home?
Matisse - a changed cat. Haven't had to clean up a spray or puddle of urine for 3 days now. He's sitting beside the notebook as I write. The prozac doesn't make him dopey or sluggish, it just takes that edge off his OCD. When I clean the kitty boxes and there are 3, sometimes 4 wet spots, I am overjoyed - well, maybe not overjoyed - but happy. Means it's okay.
He looks me in the eye again - not for long but at least he can (he's quietly purring, has shifted position so his head is very near mine). BTW, he weighs 7kg or 15.4 lbs. Also, have changed my mind about CRF - too fat and glossy.
Don't know if I'm repeating myself but - since Cornelius flew out the opening during the remains of Cyclone Oswald when the screen blew in, Tony has stopped speaking. He makes budgie noises but no longer says Pretty Bird, The Regurgitator, Tony, etc. I miss his little tinny tiny voice.
Have been working on a pastel drawing inspired in part by a photo in Baroque Horse magazine. Was beavering away at it then got stuck. Ground to a halt actually. I think I ran out of puff because I was copying. Tried to view it strictly as an exercise - maybe I became unstuck because of having trouble duplicating it. At any rate, looking at it, and looking at it and finally,while on the yoga mat and seeing it from an oblique angle, I saw what I could do so it's on again. I like it but don't love it - yet. I live in hope.
Waiting for Lee (the farrier). Have rugged the horses because the biting flies are so bad. Spray their legs with insect repellant once daily to give them some relief. Have never seen them this bad. Something to do with the rain coming so late in the season?
Speaking of which - the ants feel we'll get much more rain. Until the earth moving equipment, which came to repair the flood damaged road, flattened them, the ants were building tall spires, towers and fat levees. There's a cyclone in the far north which they expect to follow the path of Sandy and head east then south well away from us. The ants suspect otherwise.
Showing posts with label prozac. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prozac. Show all posts
Thursday, March 14, 2013
March 8. The following is copied from my handwritten journal. Haven't blogged for awhile. Used to write all the time when keeping a journal. Now it is an effort and I always write with the feeling of someone looking over my shoulder. Sure, anyone with any kind of ego wants their work seen, and I'm no exception, yet that 'writing for an audience' is a sure way to still my voice. Why? Because, despite best efforts and intentions, I can't quite be true. I don't write about extremely personal things, like my marriage, for despite all great writers being unafraid of brutal honesty, there is another person involved.
Perhaps my reticence is a holdover from blogging. I never used to be shy about things but age and experience have brought caution and a degree of empathy.
Saw a short on the ABC yesterday which decided me to try journalling again (it's not like I've a ton of 'followers' who will be disappointed by my silence. I've one following the Balthazar blog who, as far as I can tell, has absolutely no interest in horses). At any rate, the short was on Bob Ellis, writer, speechwriter, essayist. He writes with a fountain pen in a notebook half this size on a pillow which is propped upon an old school desk from his old school. What great work, he asked, has been written on a word processor? I suppose there must be some but perhaps he has a point. Perhaps there is a connection between the writing hand, the eye and the brain which allows for 'great work' to be created. The advantage of the computer is I can type very fast so that, on a run, I can almost get a stream of consciousness cascade. But is that a good thing? Just because I can immortalize my thoughts doesn't mean they are worth the trouble. Writing by hand, OTOH (see? there are some advantageous holdovers from the use of digital media) gives thought a breathing space where an interesting notion can be followed up or followed on with further investigation.
And it's slower. I'm beginning to think that's a good thing.
When I attended the Julie Grieg workshop I found I had trouble concentrating n one thing for 3 hours in the morning and another 2 1/2 in the afternoon (we quit half an hur early). Even writing this I just had a quick computer break to look at some drawings by a pastel artist. I'm not over-caffeinated nor am I afflicted with Alzheimers yet have noticed a discernible drop in my ability to stick with one thing for any length of time. Too much information. We, I, am able to get information on any and all subjects through the net. And while I'm looking up exactly who played that supporting actor role in some 1954 B movie western I can check my mail, check out a French phrase, look at the radar, see what new work has come up on Pinterest and play Mah Jong! No wonder I have the attention span of a water flea. There is always some bright shiny fact kernal just a mouse click away.
The internet is grand. My computer is a joy to have an use but I think there is something to be said for the slow and deliberate use of pen and paper. My journal was my best friend and companion when I had none and now..(personal stuff) ..the re-introduction of Friend Journal into my daily life is timely and good.
On a more prosaic note, just to record it, we've started Matisse on Prozac. Yes, I drug my kitty. I've written quite a bit about his neurotic, needy and unhappy self on the blog. The crunch came with cleaning up to 4 sprays a day. I love him but something had to be done. Nothing helped. Endless love and reassurance, while gladly accepted with purrs and nose rubs, made no difference.
Yesterday was his second day. As expected he was mightily displeased to have the drop of transdermal gel rubbed inside his ear. He acts as though we've morphed into cat abusers but I noticed (we shut him in the laundry to eat otherwise he'll eat everyone else's food as well as his own) it didn't take long for him to finish dinner. He's sleeping now. There were 3 piddles in the boxes and no new sprays (that I could find). He didn't join me on the yoga mat this morning to pace between it and the rest of the house. I hope it works. No side effects save for a calmer cat.
Perhaps my reticence is a holdover from blogging. I never used to be shy about things but age and experience have brought caution and a degree of empathy.
Saw a short on the ABC yesterday which decided me to try journalling again (it's not like I've a ton of 'followers' who will be disappointed by my silence. I've one following the Balthazar blog who, as far as I can tell, has absolutely no interest in horses). At any rate, the short was on Bob Ellis, writer, speechwriter, essayist. He writes with a fountain pen in a notebook half this size on a pillow which is propped upon an old school desk from his old school. What great work, he asked, has been written on a word processor? I suppose there must be some but perhaps he has a point. Perhaps there is a connection between the writing hand, the eye and the brain which allows for 'great work' to be created. The advantage of the computer is I can type very fast so that, on a run, I can almost get a stream of consciousness cascade. But is that a good thing? Just because I can immortalize my thoughts doesn't mean they are worth the trouble. Writing by hand, OTOH (see? there are some advantageous holdovers from the use of digital media) gives thought a breathing space where an interesting notion can be followed up or followed on with further investigation.
And it's slower. I'm beginning to think that's a good thing.
When I attended the Julie Grieg workshop I found I had trouble concentrating n one thing for 3 hours in the morning and another 2 1/2 in the afternoon (we quit half an hur early). Even writing this I just had a quick computer break to look at some drawings by a pastel artist. I'm not over-caffeinated nor am I afflicted with Alzheimers yet have noticed a discernible drop in my ability to stick with one thing for any length of time. Too much information. We, I, am able to get information on any and all subjects through the net. And while I'm looking up exactly who played that supporting actor role in some 1954 B movie western I can check my mail, check out a French phrase, look at the radar, see what new work has come up on Pinterest and play Mah Jong! No wonder I have the attention span of a water flea. There is always some bright shiny fact kernal just a mouse click away.
The internet is grand. My computer is a joy to have an use but I think there is something to be said for the slow and deliberate use of pen and paper. My journal was my best friend and companion when I had none and now..(personal stuff) ..the re-introduction of Friend Journal into my daily life is timely and good.
On a more prosaic note, just to record it, we've started Matisse on Prozac. Yes, I drug my kitty. I've written quite a bit about his neurotic, needy and unhappy self on the blog. The crunch came with cleaning up to 4 sprays a day. I love him but something had to be done. Nothing helped. Endless love and reassurance, while gladly accepted with purrs and nose rubs, made no difference.
Yesterday was his second day. As expected he was mightily displeased to have the drop of transdermal gel rubbed inside his ear. He acts as though we've morphed into cat abusers but I noticed (we shut him in the laundry to eat otherwise he'll eat everyone else's food as well as his own) it didn't take long for him to finish dinner. He's sleeping now. There were 3 piddles in the boxes and no new sprays (that I could find). He didn't join me on the yoga mat this morning to pace between it and the rest of the house. I hope it works. No side effects save for a calmer cat.
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