8:15 p.m. - 05/26/02
something [sky] blue.
I've become officially infatuated with the Indigo Girls (on a clinical level.) Rites of Passage has basically not left the CD drive for days now, and I've gotten to the level of obsession where I'm just about to cry out how wonderful the song I'm listening to is (i.e. this is my absolute favorite song!) when the track switches, and the opening chords of the next track bring tears to my eyes. I've always enjoyed certain songs here (Galileo, Love Will Come To You) but now I can't get over any of them. I think Amy Ray has finally won me over. After being thoroughly in love with the Emily-based songs, I've finally been converted to Amy's amazingness (beyond the always-impeccable harmonies that any alto-born choirkid cannot help but feel affirmed by). Although my favorite Amy-based song is technically not even written by her (it's Romeo and Juliet) I do adore it muchly. I think I've spent so much time in choirs perfecting tone quality and diction and triads that I've lost some of my affinity for the more visceral vocalists. Amy Ray's singing is completely primal, and I honestly adore it to the point of salivation. I can feel my diaphragm begging to support *notes like thooose* and my vocal chords going, "Scrape us! Let us scream!" I'm just grateful, honestly. As much as I miss choir, it's nice to have this kind of freedom with the vocal practice I *do* continue. I don't have to create a choral voice that will blend well with all the identical voices. I can sing what feels good in my body and sounds good in my ears.
Lovely.
Joel was here today. (That's Joe-L, two syllables, one lovely woman.) She seems a light brighter than the last time I saw her, which I guess was about a year ago, and I hope she thinks the same of me. We had a really nice visit, despite my dad's getting really sick and being really crabby (not in that order.) Dad and Mom argued again all morning and Dad walked out. He wasn't gone long, but when he came back he basically spent the time outside barbecuing or inside, in his room, so he still wasn't really "around." Despite this, things were nice. I was crocheting while we talked, and Joel was really supportive and glad to see me doing it. She talked about knitting, and she unraveled the tangles in my yarn. Plus we had a really nice hug...one of my favorites- where I'm behind the person and I put my arms around their upper chest. She asked me if I was really doing well, and I told her yes. She said she was glad, that she had been praying for me, and I told her thank you, it's so much better now, and she seemed to understand that. I wanted to cry a little because it's so scary and infuriating to think of where I've been, and it's so scary to think of where I am, and it's so wonderful to have people hold you that way and ask with genuine attention how you are.
She's incredible.
The other thing I want to remember several million years down the road when I'm old and purple (I thought old and gray was too unoriginal)...there's this feeling I absolutely enjoy, one I remember having from very early in my life. It happens very rarely, usually when someone does something for me or when someone who struggles to read is reading, (don't ask me why)- I get chills. But not my *normal* chills. Chills on my scalp that spread to my neck and shoulders, occasionally my arms. They're prickly almost; they tingle- I love them. They're so unpredictable, but if they could be bottled I'd be completely addicted...on the rare occasion I get them, I tend to focus obsessively on what's bringing them about so they continue as long as possible.
I don't think I can write anymore. I'm too distracted singing along with "Let It Be Me." I can't believe they are this amazing, and I've been this naive for so long. I'm ashamed to look at their picture on the CD book. Bad Mary, not realizing the true level of their amazing-ness.
I think the time is coming for the new therapist to decide she has a slot to work with me. I can feel it a little. I don't think it's tomorrow, but I think it's coming. I just checked back entries, cross-referenced with my calendar, and sure enough, we're coming up on eight weeks. It'll be sad to leave Dr. R, even if I'll still be seeing them and even though I know it feels right to see someone else (so long as *they're* right.) I should do something, though, even if it's little. I should do something to say thank you for taking my hardest time (transition) in your hands and making it seem safe.
He is a miracle that way.
I'm wearing sky blue and that's exactly how I feel- calm and kind of cool like this nearly-summer sky. Like I have the capacity for night and storm and hurricane, but right now even the clouds have stepped away. For a moment, I am just sky blue...
chord
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