i’m crying a fair amount, but now my eyes hurt and i’m trying not to.
i’m meditating most days. a guided meditation, so i have even less opportunity to think. thinking is the enemy.
i’m working part time in a flower greenhouse, to learn, because i’m dreaming of having my own greenhouse lately and goddamnit, those things are not cheap and are a whole big deal. they arrive unassembled, goddamnit, and empty. (laughing.)
i’m gathering all my dreams into a big pile to see what I can make of them, try to make my life something more independent, more in line with the joy and the contentment I have and want more of. fuck ‘work in the schools’. swear to god, i hear that one more time and i will buy a gun.
i’m sinking into a deep melancholy that I feel in my chest, losing one of my best supports and loves is an unbalancing force, and I am aware, and so I am doing my best to reach out and gather new supports, and use the ones I have. hello sister. nods.
i’m fine. its january. things percolate. i have a working coffee maker, and vitamins. i’ll make it.
I’ve completed the hardest of my projects for this week, and i’m basking. Just momentarily, but still. And, a birthday is completed, and I can’t tell you how glad I am. And the cactus in the houseplant section of my kitchen are blooming. and there is joy in mudville. and tomorrow I get to go feed the chickens again. and that is invigorating. so much so.
so, its not necessarily the otherside, but its well down the path towards it. I can see those greener pastures of january first, i can.
there will be bumps, this is guaranteed.
I’m a bump-ridden kind of girl. But also, I’m a bump rider. I throw my hands up when the car goes over the tracks and I love the thump of my base when I hit the speedbumps. SO.
I wrote this morning about what is in my fridge and how I’m sadly familiar with the liquifaction of zucchini. and thats a bump, but i’m waving my arm around like I just don’t care. Can you see me? More liquid magic for the compost heap, baby.
And, determination. So much determination that maybe next year, I’ll even plant zucchini, just to prove it to myself that there is a way, somehow, someway, to get my kids to eat it. There is. I will lazerpoint my steely eyes on those children and watch them with glee when it happens to them.
(whats funny is that most of my writing this morning had to do with myself being a ‘pantser’ style (by the seat of your pants) writer, a writer without a plan who gets an idea and just runs. This post is a perfect example of the problem with pantsing. No doubt you did not expect the first sentence to lead you through this journey. Neither did I. I’m just along for the ride, like you.)
And herein lies the problem with this every day thing… no, no, i’m not going to say it, or type it, or even think it anymore.
i’m just going on faith here that if you read it, you’ll find something in it that you like. go digging. find something.
maybe my kids won’t need me to play hide the zucchini.
and because I think that sentence is so funny and leads to so much joy and hysteria, i’m going to stop right there.
day six of thirty days. writing myself silly for my own jollies.
Its dark out. pitch. Its slightly before seven am on a Saturday. My weekday alarm went off by accident, one of the two kids in my bed reached over my head to shut it off. Yes, two out of three.
The clocks change this weekend which always fucks me up. And I realized I’ll be doing chicken chores in the dark this week, which bites it. (I guess, I mean I’ve never fed 1200 chickens in the dark. I’m guessing its going to be fairly messy. I should invest in a head lamp maybe. Am I going to have to deal with coyotes? fug.)
I’ve been feeding the chickens at my friend’s farm twice a week. I deeply love it, once I’m there. I do. Its a challenge physically, and mentally, and I need that kind of challenge. It gets me out of the house, away from the projects and the ‘must do’ list, and outside, with 1200 little things that love me for my feeding potential.
I can see this as a way forward, once the kids are out of the house. How deeply I need something to let me love them, and care for them. How deeply I need something to run towards me with confidence and love.
Man, you got to see chickens run. It is such a delight. Little dinosaurs.
And that, my friends, is what I’m thinking about this morning, at 6:56 am, with a temperature outside of 28 F. For my brits, and irish and italians, that is slightly below freezing. I’m not doing chickens this morning, thank god. Love of warmth wins out today.
Love you, bear with me during these less pithy posts.
Amidst the hellacious mess that there is in the basement and my finances, I am taking a class on Powerful Questions. And, amazingly, it has to do with listening.
Its a class that is held over the phone and I’m flatout exhausted at the end of the hour, listening so hard, translating those bits I can’t make out into bits that make sense. I just finished an hour now and my ear muscles are sore, yes they are, don’t argue with me . . . and neck and face, where i was holding the phone, so tight, so tight. usually i wear gigantic headphones, bigger than my face, but today i was too distracted to find them in time, and so i squished that fucker phone right into my brain.
its exhausting. and then kid #2 walks in the house and wants a ride hitherandfro. and if i had a partner, i would just lean on them in quietude for a little bit.
but instead i have a sweet five minutes before i start yelling/begging about ‘when? when do you need a ride? tell me when and i will take you!’ because i’m trying to beat the bus for kid three back to the house. His inability to match my speed and ferocity is legendary.
these are not the questions that the class is teaching.
I’m finding it really interesting actually.
how you formulate a question to someone can really open a door.
What do you want to happen instead? (get dreamy on your bad self, man, get dreamy…)
Is there anything else you can tell me about that? (get detailed, put those details in your dream, your story…)
What is something you can do in the next few hours to get that feeling?
I’m digging it. Its all about activating the different ways you can listen, so it feels especially ironic to me, the deafie. exhaustion and enjoyment. isn’t that a hoot.
Okay. I did it. I cancelled my two dating apps and I am absolutely jonesing for the ping of the phone. JONESING.
the ways in which the random ping can make you think of possibility and romance and dreamy? Oh. yes, sex and titillation, it is all in there. and perhaps i’ve been needing the dopamine hit of a like, a shot of ‘what if?’ once and again.
i’ve been telling myself i can go back to it whenever i want, no pressure. but i’ve already noticed i’ve been less attached to the phone.
honestly, i need some quiet time. the kids were here with me in a way that felt like every day all day and we managed and now they go to school this coming tuesday and my brain is feeling cluttered. very cluttered, as if i haven’t done a sweep in a week, and the dust bunnies and hairdevils are taking over, the world blurry with softness that still manages to be disgusting.
i’m out of mac and cheese, if you can believe that. i haven’t done a big shop in a million hours. MAC AND CHEESE? HOLY GOD.
i feel like shaving my head. (only kind-of kidding.)
I feel like a wild stallion locked up.
and also, in a rush, i feel like i’ve got to do something fast, or i’ll just repeat all the things i’ve repeated before. you know?
dissatisfaction. the hindrance of the cockeyed feet.
in my head i’m calling people cocksuckers a lot. i’ve also had the kids today for ten days straight with no break and so i think i need a literal quiet moment and also a much larger reorganization of my entire life.