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It's amazing how time can fly by when you look back. Counting the days that have turned to weeks then months. Then there are those moments that freeze in time. They refuse to move into the realm of the seconds that tick by...leading to the hours... It's like living thousands of micro-lifetimes. It's exhausting. I will be grateful when the frozen ground thaws to mud. When the sun means warmth. It has been a long cold winter indeed. I have never wanted for spring so much as I do these days…When all that has been dormant can finally emerge …reborn..
Another Sunday comes to an end. It's getting late and I didn't get done all that I had intended. You ever notice how much time it takes to ready, tidy and care for ourselves? The tasks vary depending on what we choose to prioritize. Per usual I have filled my day with domestic duties. Those tasks that had to be done. I found myself absent of the usual grunting and moaning that accompanies the laundry, shopping, cooking and cleaning. It's a matter of perspective. Quite simple really. Who was it that said, "Its only work if you'd rather someplace else."?
I don't plan. Never could. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? That ubiquitous question loomed. I never could answer it. Still can't. I even try to circumvent it in my mind by beginning with "After the publication of my first novel the next one was easier write…" What is lacking is the actual PLAN of action! It's amazing I've made it this far. I remember reading something that said before you die you should write a book, teach a child and plant a tree. I'm two out of three so far. I'm planning to plan. It's a start.
One of those nights when I just can't concentrate long enough to string together a coherent thought. Tired. My whole body wants for rest. Last few nights I've been keeping myself awake- past that time of evening when your circadian rhythm signals its time to sleep. Just trying to squeeze more hours out of my day to myself I guess. Snow storm is heading our way. I suppose it's not as bad as when it snows in April. But still. It has that enough already feeling. Think I'll walk the dog, eat some chocolate covered strawberries and get some sleep.
All this talk of war. It can be cunningly disguised depending on what dial, channel, cyber or printed monologue you happen upon. The inevitable conflict. Or not. End that will justifies the means. Or not. And on and on. I believe we are headed for some futurist version of a colossal world altercation. Frightening. I think of my sister and her new husband, and her family. My cousins and their families. The children. My god. What would happen to the children? It would be unlike any war that we have seen on our soil. Or anywhere. Right or wrong. Sigh.
What's in a name? My sister and her husband have chosen a name for my soon to be niece (or nephew). If you could choose any name would it be the one you have now? Or is there something you've always thought would suit you better? Hard to imagine. As the years go we inevitably associate names with the people we've met- their personality, looks, etc. Some good. Some not so good. A name should be something the child will grow into. Not define the child (as some people tend to believe). Their bound to unique in their own right.
I enjoy seeing those signs- on small diners- "We'll miss you Betty!" "Steve and Sara are BACK!" Churches- "If you're looking for a sign from God, This Is It..." There's a car repair shop up the road that most often has the best. The last one read "Too cold for sign". I wonder who these people are. Where's Betty going? New job? New town? Getting married? Did she die? And Steve and Sara- where did they go and what brought them back to that little diner? These messages are reminders. People care about us. And we all matter to someone.
I attended a beautiful wedding, Feb. 22. My sister married the man of her waking dreams. And he too, found and married his true love. It was a small ceremony of family and cherished friends. We gathered in a quaint church in a picturesque snowy New England town. We cheered and cried as they were wed. We then walked in umbrellaed pairs, sheltered from the winter rain, to the church's hall to share dinner, toasts and laughter. She had never looked so young, loving and beautiful. And he, so proud and handsome. They took my breath away. Happily ever after.
Contemplation. Of passion, destiny, love, friendship, fate and mortality. I'm choosing to focus on mortality, thereby circumventing the others for now. Cause or effect? No matter: What happens with all our stuff? The abominable task of sorting, divving and discarding is left to our loved ones. When I think of my writings (in the degree that anyone currently perusing this forum can fathom) – I wonder "Do I want them to be found? If no, then…do what? Discard them? Destroy them? Erase them? Deny their existence? No. Only conveyed wishes for them to be published within in 5 years. Daunting, eh?
I've been editing my life. My thoughts. True desires. Even these topics I choose to write about. These very words. My emotions are kept in check careful not to be too demonstrative or engaging. My actions are mostly in the confines of this house. It's becoming stifling. It's been a gradual slide. I feel the tightness in my chest. Tears falling. I realize that we are responsible for our own happiness and subsequent destiny. That we're each given the same amount of hours in a day to do with what we will. Or not. I've been squandering mine. Not anymore.
There's a man I see on my drive home from work, sitting on a bench, at an intersection. I've seen the occasional car stop and someone approach him. He seems to be polite but just nods his head and waves them off. In these cold months, he's bundled in layers of blankets. All you can see of his face are the coke bottle glasses peering out. I know he wears these because I've seen him in the warmer months. At those times he looks like any gray bearded gentleman waiting for a bus. I hope it comes sooner than later.
One more day. Sometimes that's all it takes to reignite your passion for life. Another hour. Another Tomorrow. If my father was alive, that's what I would tell him. You never know. Give it one more day. We count on our tomorrows. Rely on them. Believe in them. Some of us are banking on it. I know I am. I know the difference between existing and living. I've done both. And I will say living is much better than existing. We are responsible for our own happiness. I don't believe we can assign blame to others for our own dissatisfaction.
Friday night and I'm watching a rerun of Sex in the City. TGIF. This episode is about the 30 something dating scene. I wonder what it's like out there. Has it changed much since my 20's? I can't imagine so. Sure, there's more technology. Take cell phones for instance. Back in my day, it seems people just hung out. You knew where to go, depending on the night. You hung out. You didn't call someone to spontaneously warn that you'd be late. Either you were there at the expected time or not. You met, you hung out, you had fun.
My left knee aches. Not from any exerted physical effort. This bothers me greatly. It's from slipping on ice walking the dog. Twice. Then a collision with a file cabinet at work. It aches. Same knee I injured skiing many many moons ago. I've rode horses, danced, skated, fenced, swam, golfed and shot some baskets. And now it throbs! Yeah, it could be the cumulated effect…but damn. Pathetic. I don't know how my grandmother does it. The minor yet constant pain can only be a small fraction of what she goes through at 78 years. Who am I to complain?
Hung out with my Nana today. It's been too long since I've spent time with her. She's an incredible woman. She took care of my sister and me when we were young. It was after my father died. I don't know what we would've done with out her. Later, I went to live with her. The first day, she sat me on the couch, handed me a book and told me to read it. It was The Catcher In The Rye. And I did. I learned many things during those years. Among them, perseverance, laughter, dignity and enduring love.
I miss my sister. Especially now. Wish we could live near each other. I think of how Joe and his family are going to be closer to my nieces. The everyday things. I envy them. I don't want to miss out on all of that. But I am. We try to visit every three months. It's not the same. It's all we have though. We've kept close to the promise. Sometimes we're a month or two over. I would love to be able to call and say, We're meeting for lunch. I'll be over in 15. Have the kids ready.
I watched the President announce his ultimatum to the Saddam-Iraq regime tonight. Get outta of town in 48 hours or shit's gonna rain down on you for 40 days and 40 nights. Is this going to be the war to end all wars? Will it be as swift and brutal as planned? Or will we witness degrees of devastation as never before? We can only pray that the carnage will be kept to a minimum and that the true goal for which this "campaign" is intended is accomplished. The idea is frightening in all aspects. There's no turning back now…
So far, quite the year for my family. My mother is getting married! I never thought she'd marry again. And if you would have asked her that not too long ago she would've agreed. She sounded so happy on the phone. My "step father" will be the very same man she fell in love with 25+ years ago. Life takes us on some interesting turns indeed. You can plan but fate will some how intervene. For better or worse. Whether you're ready or not. Just when I'm feeling cynical, I rediscover the romance of love and longing. Way to go!
There's a theory for absolute living called "The Four Agreements". The concept and practice is to depersonalize our reactions to others and the world around us. Creating a true harmony among people. Don't take things personally. Don't assume. Don't judge. Always speak with truth. Sounds easy, eh? It's not. The next time you encounter someone, anyone, even your private thoughts, no matter the situation, try this: Depersonalize (it's not all about you). Don't assume (wastes energy and usually is negative). Cease judgment (what experience has taught this person this learned response?.) Speak only the truth (or say nothing). Try it.
Thank you. No, Thank YOU. Whatever happened to Your Welcome? When you thank someone you are acknowledging and expressing your gratitude for their politeness, service or kindness. Responding, Your Welcome accomplishes this. Saying, No, Thank YOU does not. It leaves the whole transaction unresolved. Where does it end: No, really, Thank YOU. No, THANK YOU. And on and on. Eliciting the awkward, well, Okay, yeah, well, uh, bye. thanks. phase. Not having responded Your Welcome; the true path of original intent and natural interaction was altered. A seemingly innocuous faux paux of our declinging old fashion human nature.
What is about the youth today? I know, individually, they seem to be striving and determined. But collectively, I'm not so sure. I joke around sometimes and say, "Teenagers are taking over the world". They are at our grocery stores, coffee bars waiting on us with such apathy. This generation, collectively, lacks a great deal of common sense, work ethic and courtesy. But this cannot be blamed on them alone. They must be learning by example. Where did we go wrong? I'm not a parent. These aren't my children. They are yours, by choice, so teach them manners and respect.
Listening to my sister described her pregnancy is fascinating. She's always been petite and beautiful. I love to hear her marvel at the ever changing nuances of her body. At first she told me of the surprise and awe. Then the unpleasantry of nausea and lethargy. Its seems the hardest part so far has been- I'm not showing yet but not myself anymore. Any woman could identify with this. Your body is changing beyond your control. We are dedicated to an image of ourselves. Pregnancy changes that concept. You relinquish and begin to understand the beauty and miracle that's unfolding.
Is it me or the thaw of spring? I have more energy. Smiling more often. Can't wait to swing a club. Golf. Play basketball. Rollerblade. Walk the dog on dry terrain. Throw the windows open wide. Spring is almost here in her glorious entirety. I see the brown earth and remember green. Walking at night with Ranger, I inhale the vapor of defrosting earth. I look forward to donning my sandals and skirts. I imagine languid dips in the moonlit pool. Smiling and soft laughter in private moments. Even when I'm alone My silent litmus of happiness and well being.
My love for reading began when I was a child. My mother brought these little booklets home to my sister and me, made of stapled copies of thin shiny paper, with that funny ink smell. The ink would inevitably rub off on our hands. But it would never erase the worlds that it led us into. They were stories of boys and girls playing with nature's creatures and frolicking in vast fields. Their messages conveyed fairness and harmony. It's hard to imagine, her being reprimanded for teaching us to read before we went to school. But she was. Thanks mom.
In response to the question "How do you write?" An author responded, "It's easy. You just sit and stare at the typewriter until blood begins to pour from your forehead." I don't remember the author's name. Sometimes I think this way when it comes to these entries. I've accomplished a single entry, October 2002. I did attempt November, December and January. By default, I began a parallel journal. This month's almost over and so far so good. It's easier to write daily and enter words in batches. Thereby creating the illusion of ease in my mind. It works for me.
It's hard not to feel petty, when your biggest disappointment is getting home late from work zapped of energy, too tired to do what you'd planned -when the other half of the world is engaged in war. I heard an interview about a woman here in the states with family in Iraq. She told of some 20 relatives, living together in one house. They sleep in shifts and try to keep the children distracted. The wait for day light so they can rest. Dear God, how can life so be opposite and cruel? Why do some smile while others suffer?
I've got two lists. When someone says, "You're on my list" it usually means The Shit List. I refer to the Other List as the "Invisible List". The one, which when you're placed, you've ceased to exist in my mind. Therefore, rendering you invisible. Disturbing. I believe this developed as some sort of survival technique some where in my long ago past. Again, disturbing. None the less, it still exists. I referred to it recently. I was surprised to find my mental embalming and disposable techniques so readily accessible. What does that say about me? Lots of damage to undo.
My sister's coming for a visit! She'll be here in a few weeks. This is a hard time to be living away from her with my little niece (or nephew) on the way. My little sister is pregnant! I always thought some how that when this day came we'd be near each other. Doing sisterly things. Running over to her house in sweat pants just to hang out or help with a fashion decision. Grabbing a bite to eat and just talking. Or not. Watching movies My favorite pastime is being alone - together. Swapping books. I miss her dearly.
Thankfully this week is finally over. I'm not only working my ass off lately but it feels like it. Don't like this feeling that all I have is work. I know it happens. But it's is all I do. I miss sports. Competing. The physical exertion. The challenge. The feeling of accomplishment. Week after week of learning and challenging yourself. This can only be gotten from an organized aggressive sport. The regiment. Even the frustration of mind and body. Golf's a challenge but not the physically exhausting sweat til you're soaked workout. Gotta get back to it. Sounds simple, eh?
Went to Vegas Night last night. When we walked up the stairs into this brightly lit "hall", my first thought was, Jesus, how long have I been gone from New York? Time hasn't just been standing still; I've actually been living in a freaky Midwest vortex that reverses time. Immediately I had donned my judgmental, I'm better-than-thou glasses and leered at the small town gambling spectacle before me. To my surprise, it was quite entertaining. The dealer, the people at the table. Just ordinary folk out for some fun. And I was one of them. And have fun I did!
Strange dream last night. Wish I would have written it down this morning. What made this dream unique were a few things. My sense of smell and POV. I could smell the little girl's hair. It was a strange odor. I wasn't able to recognize it until the very end. I was also floating behind her, watching everything that was happening and simultaneously seeing the sequences through her eyes. It was a quiet gathering of family. People moving gliding in and out of rooms through a mist. Softly talking and silently nodding to one another. Not seeing the little girl.
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