Some days go down so hard.
I am calm and home and fed and talking about the bad spot I was in today is scratching at scabs with dirty fingernails. In other words, asking for trouble.
Today I tell you about three types of things. All of which are as real and true as the condemnation and exhaustion I am now serving myself with.
Things that I love. Things that I am grateful for. Things that would be wonderful if:
Things I love include: the long s and being able to joke with some facility as to long s-based humor. Being considered too dainty for the size of the balls humor going around the office today. When oh my jesus I could make Annie Sprinkle hide behind her mother’s skirts if I was of a mind. (Well, let’s not oversell my sick mind. Maybe not Annie Sprinkle. Maybe just your average housewife. Make her run and hide below the windowsill when I come sauntering by in case I would corrupt her.) I love Mumford and Sons with a fervor that is neither sane nor safe. I love not worrying in the face of worry. I love knowing that somehow I will make it okay. I love where the writing is going, I love the writing lust. I love that right-brain extravaganza that is going on right now. I love the way it feels like the stone is just skipping and skipping over the skin of the lake, never dropping below the surface, never aware of its own weight or the notion of gravity. I love cherry smoothies and cold, cold water. I love finding new ridiculous videos. Lately, despite how it unnerves me, I love the sound of children. Even screaming ones.
I am grateful that we get to get away and I get to shift my ideas and my brain and my body all in one 2 hour trip. I am grateful that I am not concerned about flying and I know that if the rest of them will just go with the flow, it’ll be fine. Not likely, but fine. I am grateful that there is, at this moment, funds to do this. I am grateful that I have friends to visit, too, so that there is more light at the end of this tunnel. I am grateful there are outlets for my anger and frustration and negative feeling. I am grateful that as frightened as I might be of the future, I won’t let it ruin everything. Corrode every moment.
Wouldn’t it be great if I got some extra sleep tonight? Wouldn’t it be great if I wrote a lot in a small amount of time and didn’t feel any restrictions or desire to immediately fix it and let it be? Wouldn’t it be great if tomorrow I made progress on the work issues that are causing me grief and tension? Wouldn’t it be great if I stopped hassling myself and let myself come to center?