"I want life to be simple again," she says, while wondering if it ever actually was. "I'm so tired.  My therapist says I'm bored, and while there is much truth in that statement, it is so not that straightforward."

I'm too tired to expand on these musings but now that I have my room set up in a way that kind of works (for now), I can see myself writing more.  Not necessarily here, but I will be writing somewhere.  I'm enjoying the feel of keys beneath my fingers again. Therapeutic, the muted click and rhythmic, mindlessness of typing.  Thank whatever/whoever for spellcheck because I no longer care to backspace. Get it out and clean it up later. 

For now, goodnight.

Oh - hey

Yeah. Um... the ship went down. I'm not without injury or loss but I'm treading water and somehow think I'll be okay.

Dear mom...

I know it's a common theme for parents to want better for their children- hell, I feel the same regarding Kitten- but it is no longer your place to decide what's good enough for me. Feel however you want, that's yours, but I'm having a tough time with having it foisted upon me. I'm sorry that you don't feel that I'm growing fast enough. I'm sorry my life isn't as you want it to be- that I'm not coming to your conclusions (or that I may be, but not fast enough). I'm seeing even more clearly that it's about the journey and I hate to tell you this but I may never reach the outcome that you want for me. You see, you want what's best for me but you see "best" through the filter of your own story. You want for me the outcome you wish you'd had, and that just wouldn't be right for me. It's not personal! I'm not punishing you by traveling my road any more than I was punishing you when I weaned before you were ready! Please mom, take your heartbreak and own it! Stop blaming us because until you do, you can't nurture anything more than the "injustice" that feeds you!

And I am mortally tired of not being good enough.

Titanic

The ship is sinking and I'm being asked whether I'm going down with it.  I don't know how to answer...

It can always get worse...

Okay.  So, I haven't been writing because I've been really broken, lately.  With the violent collapse of the business, I didn't have much left in me for writing. 

Since my last post, Wolf has begun a new adventure which requires us to work more than full-time hours with no pay, yet.  Kitten works in the same place, one day/week, and is the only one of us with a pay cheque.  We have 2 additional people living in the house (to help with rent, haha), neither of whom have pay cheques.  This work also makes it really difficult for me to draw (I've got something going on in my joints/tendons which has resulted in constant pain and numbness from my shoulders to my fingers) and Wolf's ankles are degenerating at a visible rate from being on his feet over 70 hrs/week.
Yup, things are pretty dire.  And yet, every morning the sun rises.  Time just keeps going.  The world is not ending (even though it feels like it is) and that means there are still options.

I'm looking and open to possibilities.  I'm available Sundays from 4pm and Mondays until whatever time can get me to the bus stop by 3:05pm.  

All the way, then back again...

Sigh.


I have been writing, just not here.  I have windows live writer - or some such equivalent - which holds more entries than this one (even though it looks the same and publishes to this one with and internet connection and the push of a button).

First, let's do a short-form, catch-up:

Kitten's 14, has a different boyfriend who both Wolf and I love, is taller than me and still brings more sunshine into my world than anything; I finally cut my hair... to my shoulders (haha haha) but have yet to do anything even remotely funky; we've burned through another business (since my last news-y post) and I'm done with those, now.  I don't have the constitution for dealing with contractors or big construction companies... and I'm done with being the little guy, because the little guy can't do anything when the big guy refuses to pay, steals your tools, finally returns some of them when threatened with police action, but returns them with cut cords and missing parts and screws where screws have no right to be... Y'know, if that kind of thing happened in real life.  (Yup.  It kinda makes a person go into hiding from everything/one that she legally can.)

So, now that I can see the dismal end of that particular adventure I'm ready to turn my face into the sun.  I haven't felt warmth for long enough that it feels like the memory of a movie viewed in childhood.  Feels like.  Bear with me.  I'm dozy.  

And I'm drawing again.  That was the point of this entry. I'm not only just drawing but people are asking me about prices and I have one commission in the works, with 2-4 more in possibility-land!  Whoa, hey?!

Darkness falls…

It’s one of those Twilight Zone afternoons.  The fog is thick enough, beyond the trees, to make me question the existence of a world beyond.  (Am I removed from space and time, trapped in a finite universe, away from all that once was?)  Quiet and eerie, the air casts a violet haze over all I see.  Even the Christmas lights seem out of place, their cheer failing to reach beyond the gloom.

Darkness comes early these days; quick enough that you can watch it fall if you’re patient.  I can’t watch, though.  I’m uncomfortable with this moment.  All I can do is glance up now and again, sometimes to be pulled into the heaviness. 

On nights like this, dusk has a soul and it isn’t peaceful.  Eerie gives way to sinister as dusk approaches. It comes, creeping, slithering down our streets and onto lawns, searching for… what, I do not know.  Shade with no sunlight, it travels on the wheels of fear and desolation. 

The heaviness thickens, coagulating into a sickening sense of terror and despair – the screaming wail that waits just below the breastbone for one more second.

 

Then, as dusk deepens past twilight, the air loses its menace.  The street light pours out an amber glow over the neighbourhood and - just like that – it’s simply night time.