but here's my feets from 2 days ago:
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| Outside Whizbang. the pigeon was immaculate in death. |
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday morning
it's hard to keep a blog. It's hard to keep your house clean and make changes to it and deal with running toilets and feed your kid and work and see friends and write and find time to exercise and all that, and then to try to write this journal as well....
but here's my feets from 2 days ago:
so...
but here's my feets from 2 days ago:
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
too much
so much i want to put in here but it's late, i'm tired.
yesterday: Tree of Life. a sense of mystery and wonder - how life is incomplete without it, how i've lost it and want it back. beauty. and that i must live my life, not set about it grimly as so many tasks to be performed.
today: that I don't know if I want to be in story rooms anymore. I think it really is time for me to move on to the next thing. I may not be any good at it, at least not at the game that needs to be played today.
I've been watching The Shadow Line and thinking, if you can't do that, why do it at all? The sense of a complete world, a vision, unique, flawed, still compelling. I'd like to write that once.
Tonight: i had to dismantle the ruined roof of my gazebo, abandoned by the assclown from Oshawa who literally snuck away with his posse as I prepared dinner. Now there's a mess of boards with nails prickling out all over piled up in my once-lovely backyard, a pile that needs to get gone before the big birthday party on Saturday. However, the gazebo is better without a roof, although now completely useless as rain cover and STILL THERE.
there was something satisfying about hammering the crap out of it and clearing it away. That physical labour thing, in reverse: once there was something, now there is nothing - i made it go away by myself.
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| Morning coffee at Balzac's |
yesterday: Tree of Life. a sense of mystery and wonder - how life is incomplete without it, how i've lost it and want it back. beauty. and that i must live my life, not set about it grimly as so many tasks to be performed.
today: that I don't know if I want to be in story rooms anymore. I think it really is time for me to move on to the next thing. I may not be any good at it, at least not at the game that needs to be played today.
 |
| i hate those socks |
I've been watching The Shadow Line and thinking, if you can't do that, why do it at all? The sense of a complete world, a vision, unique, flawed, still compelling. I'd like to write that once.
Tonight: i had to dismantle the ruined roof of my gazebo, abandoned by the assclown from Oshawa who literally snuck away with his posse as I prepared dinner. Now there's a mess of boards with nails prickling out all over piled up in my once-lovely backyard, a pile that needs to get gone before the big birthday party on Saturday. However, the gazebo is better without a roof, although now completely useless as rain cover and STILL THERE.
there was something satisfying about hammering the crap out of it and clearing it away. That physical labour thing, in reverse: once there was something, now there is nothing - i made it go away by myself.
Monday, June 13, 2011
crying on the couch, night two
realizing the guy isn't the reason, but simply a symptom, simply one more time I ended up alone.
fearing there's some fatal flaw inside me, and I'll never find the connection I yearn for.
treasuring the connections I do have, but tonight, again, they're just not enough.
a gratitude list:
Maya, always and forever. Tonight all she wanted to do was read, and to know that I wasn't sad.
Ripley, who drooled while being petted tonight.
Dennis, who sent worried emails.
Raspberries.
Music.
Hope, which refuses to die - but feels faint and failing.
My house, as I come upstairs and feel that I am home.
The scarf I bought in Niagara Falls, which is vivid pink and cheerful.
There are other things in abstract, but those are real and concrete tonight.
fearing there's some fatal flaw inside me, and I'll never find the connection I yearn for.
treasuring the connections I do have, but tonight, again, they're just not enough.
a gratitude list:
Maya, always and forever. Tonight all she wanted to do was read, and to know that I wasn't sad.
Ripley, who drooled while being petted tonight.
Dennis, who sent worried emails.
Raspberries.
Music.
Hope, which refuses to die - but feels faint and failing.
My house, as I come upstairs and feel that I am home.
The scarf I bought in Niagara Falls, which is vivid pink and cheerful.
There are other things in abstract, but those are real and concrete tonight.
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| Lunchtime on day one of Bomb Girls |
Sunday, June 12, 2011
why all this sadness?
I'm saying goodbye to so much, and it hurts.
Some guy who came on strong and beat a hasty retreat. PM, who will always be special to me but I have to accept does not want me as a friend. Other friends who can only be categorized as fair-weather.
And my daughter's innocence. that sounds so heavy, but today I got a good look - because I asked, and cried a little myself - at the struggles she's engaged in, and they sound like they belong to a teenager but she's not even 10 yet.
Some guy who came on strong and beat a hasty retreat. PM, who will always be special to me but I have to accept does not want me as a friend. Other friends who can only be categorized as fair-weather.
And my daughter's innocence. that sounds so heavy, but today I got a good look - because I asked, and cried a little myself - at the struggles she's engaged in, and they sound like they belong to a teenager but she's not even 10 yet.
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