Well, I think it's brilliant.

Baz Luhrmann, who directed one of my favorite movies, Moulin Rouge, is working on a new adaptation of The Great Gatsby. I love that combination on principle, but then I came across one of those YouTube projects that just screams, "this person has too much time on her hands." And I like that, too.

First, watch the trailer for the new Gatsby film. Here's the link.

http://www.imdb.com/rg/s/4/title/tt1343092/#lb-vi2016125465

Listen carefully to the audio and pay attention to the editing. Once you've taken that in, enjoy this version of the trailer. It's along the lines of watching The Wizard of Oz with the sound turned off and Dark Side of the Moon playing on the stereo.

I posted this on Facebook, but nobody responded with anything more than a collective, "meh." Too bad. I think it's brilliant.

A reminder

This is a perfect example of why I don't have full-length mirrors in my house and generally don't allow anyone to take my picture. Sigh. Oink.

ugh

I've gained so much weight in the last month that I am literally afraid to weigh myself. I just don't want to know. I need to know, but then again, maybe I don't.

I'd love to blame this on hormones, but it's actually the result of eating. A Lot.

I learn the darndest things on the Internet

Verapamil was prescribed for me last fall. I hadn't heard of it, and I haven't met anyone else who takes it. It was prescribed for Prinzmetal's Angina, that incredibly rare condition I have that occasionally makes it feel like I'm having a heart attack, although there's nothing wrong with my heart at all. No, the problem is, as usual, in my oddly wired brain.

Somewhere in the archives of this blog, there's a post called something like, "Dear Doctor, why did you send me to this asshole?" It recounts my experience of finally speaking up about the episodes of chest pain, my initial diagnosis by my primary care doctor, and the most humiliating encounter with a specialist I've ever had. It was like something out of House, and it made me (mostly) quit going to doctors entirely.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and I went to a new doctor, with whom I shared almost nothing of my previous medical history. My chart now reads like it belongs to some other patient, but the diagnosis of Prinzmetal's was confirmed and I was put on Verapamil.

The type of angina I have is poorly understood, but it is known to be caused by a rogue electrical signal from the brain that tells the coronary artery to constrict, which in turn temporarily restricts blood and oxygen flow to the heart. Episodes typically come on when the patient is at rest or even asleep. This type of vasospasm is not brought on by emotional or physical stress. It's just a short circuit.

Here's the thing. Almost every medical issue I've had in the last decade comes back to electricity. I am the body electric.

I ran out of Verapamil a couple of weeks ago and didn't bother to refill the prescription. The condition I have isn't usually life-threatening, and frankly, I hate taking daily medication for anything unless it's going to save me from imminent death.

I stopped sleeping and started thinking. A lot. I started obsessing. I was on the verge of something that I hadn't experienced in a long time--racing thoughts. This realization was like a splash of ice water racing through my body. Not again. That was never supposed to happen again.

It occurred to me to look up more information about Verapamil. Blah, blah, blah...angina, blood pressure...blah, blah, blah...may be used to treat other conditions.... Other conditions? What other conditions?

As it turns out, Verapamil is sometimes prescribed to prevent mania, hypomania, and racing thoughts. Ahhh, so maybe, although I've been cleared of the BP diagnosis, it's the Verapamil that's keeping the ADD part of my from spinning off into the stratosphere. Hmmm.

Kind of lame

So, really, no cake, no candle, so no birthday wish, but most appalling...No buttercream frosting. I barely celebrate my birthday as it is, but it's a sad day when I have to provide my own damn cake and candle. Just sayin'...

And again...

Another lap around the sun, which means today I'm 51.

(So far, no cake though.)

Still working

Awhile back, I wrote that I was working on a post about Facebook, The Atlantic, and whether or not online social networking leads to loneliness. I'm still writing that post, but I'm having trouble getting it out of the draft stage.

Sometimes, this writing thing doesn't come all that easily.

Not who I am

Honestly, I'm not a whiner in real life, in person. I save it all for here. If this blog is all you know of me, you're not getting an accurate picture. I appear significantly less pathetic in three-dimensional encounters.

Where did my words go?

From time to time, I check in on the activity log that tells me how many people have accessed this blog and how they got here. Most come via a Google search for a picture. I hope they stay for the thoughts, but I doubt that they do.

Once in awhile, I check to see what post it is that attracts a lot of attention. Apparently, my post titled 45 Mercy Street gets a ton of hits, so today I went back and re-read it, along with a few others.

I've come to the devastating realization that while deep in the throes of SSRIs, painkillers, and other mood-altering substances, I'm a much, much better writer and a more pensive and insightful person in general. Has being relatively normal made me shallow and mundane? I would love to write the way I did in 2007 and 2008, but the thoughts and words don't come to me that way anymore. It's as if the medications made it possible for me to access a part of my brain that is otherwise shuttered--perhaps to protect me from the Hydra of moods that comes with that access.

I want to be a better writer. I want my words to flow the way they used to. I feel expressively stunted. Perhaps I need to back away from Twitter (although, that's a good idea for a lot of other reasons).

I'll work on that. In the meantime, take a minute to read or re-read my post, 45 Mercy Street. You can find it here. The discussion in the comments is worthwhile, too.

I also like this post.

Slogging through the past

I have a feeling that menopause is going to suck just as much as everything that came before it for me in the past few years. I'm getting that sense quite strongly.

Over the past week, I've spent some quality time reading parts of my blog that are very connected to how I feel right now. Some things in my life have improved tremendously, while others haven't changed at all.

After reading it all and thinking about my thought processes, frankly, I'm surprised I'm not dead yet. I really thought I would have killed myself by now, and even a year ago, I didn't expect to be here still. Every day still starts with that same conversation I've been having since 2005, and this has not changed. The conversation with myself always begins the same way: "Is it today? Is this the day? Can I stop yet? No?"

I'm not sure what that means--why I'm still here. It's probably because I still have a lot of things to finish so that no one else has to sort through my clutter or pay my bills. I'm not procrastinating, though. I work on those things a little bit (sometimes more) every day.

I offer no guarantees of my survival once my affairs are in order. And really, does it matter? No, I have no evidence that it does. If menopause turns out to be really awful (as it's shaping up to be), I can't even promise I'll stay long enough to make it through the clutter and the debt.

Focusing on the inane

Between the stages of painting the bedroom, doing laundry, furniture shopping, and generally getting things done this past weekend, I also went to Costco. I have a very predictable shopping list when I go, and I'm rarely prone to make impulse purchases.

Yesterday, however, while waiting for a traffic jam of carts to clear near baked goods, I glanced at the refrigerator case to my right and saw big pink bags of Ohana's organic udon noodles. I love udon, but had never seen a precooked, al-dente version like this. The noodles were only about six dollars, so I tossed a package into my cart.

I really like miso soup, and Dr. Oz is always going on about how healthy it is for you, but for me, it's something I consume much like I do tea. the broth has no substance, so it's not very filling. It ends up being something I make as an afternoon pick-me-up when I'm trying to persuade myself that this will be a better choice than a brownie.

Today I put a serving-size package of noodles (I hope that's one serving) into my lunch bag, along with a tiny Tupperware container of red miso paste and a tablespoon of dried, chopped up wakame (seaweed).

Here is the soup I made in the microwave in my office in less than five minutes. It's quite delicious and substantial. Thank you for your patience in indulging me while I describe what I ate for lunch.

May Voirrey's 5-minute udon miso soup with wakame flakes