Stella Maris


So I found the functionality that publicizes these posts on my Twitter account and for the time being, unless something dreadful comes of it, I’m going to use it.  I don’t think I mind if my dear friends see these posts or the occasional random person who can snatch it as it crosses their feed – it’s really no different than here.

Obviously, people who arrive this way will not have the benefit that you and I have, of knowing how long and how stupid the hard road of daily blogging has been.  They will not know how I am toying with changing the paradigm, but how fretful I am that it will fuck my brain up and I will stop writing altogether.  Now, really, how could I stop writing altogether?  Way too many leashes pulling me towards it in this life even if I snip one, I would still be turning up.  I don’t know.  I just know when a thing feels stale, it loses its ability to challenge.  That whole obnoxiously phrased business of leaning in becomes required.

And tonight, even though I know better, is reserved for celebration.  The past nine months have been hard.  The next nine look no easier.  Especially when the agenda is disrupting my status quo and trying for a fresh portion of my allotment of humanity.  Looking forward at that process, well, fun is in short supply.  But this girl is on vacation.

I have needed this for a long while and now, finally, despite all my misgivings about completing tasks and having things shipshape, it’s here.   No going back to work until January 4th.  I put together a box of work I intended to take home, but I have enough to do here without trying to entangle myself in thinking about that right now.  I wouldn’t work on it at all, I have to say, and it’s meant for the office.  Not for this little room where a girl sits around and thinks about elves and long eyelashes and how much straw does it take for Rumplestiltskin to make a bar of gold?

I need to detach my twitchy eye, my hot foot, my bad plans, my good plans and every other little list I have rolling behind me and just start flapping and skipping with the arms and legs I have.  I know what I mean.  Sleep and sugar boil and bend it, but I know where I am going with this.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.  I still have some shopping and combining and gathering up to do.  We’ll have Miss Fisher, we’ll have drinks (I hope, I may have to buy drinks), we’ll have Oliver, we’ll have presents and sleeping in and coffee and company and wrapping presents (and probably, unfortunately, some last minute buying of a present or two.) I don’t feel beholden to the power of the day because I have this whole other thing going on, at least, not right now.  Right now, all I feel is freedom.

Also. FYI: Star Wars name: BRAKR MCWHE


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