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It's still raining outside. March is coming in like a lion and taking away that nice weather that we had at the end of February. I just hope April will be warm and wonderful. That's my favorite month, followed by November. I don't care too much for June, my birth month because it ends up being too hot and there's never much going on in June except a super-busy time at work. I'm not taking any time off work for my birthday because it's on a Sunday this year, but maybe next year I will do that. It will be nice.
I'm not saying a word until three months are up. It's the first of the month, so it's easier to remember. Three months from now will be June. Maybe I'll make the announcement on my birthday, if there is any announcement to make. If not I'll just keep on keeping on. I so badly want this to happen, although I don't understand why. I keep thinking about love. Sharing love with others. Being a good and gentle and patient person. There aren't many of us in the world. We are a rare breed, but we shouldn't give ourselves too much credit.
Going to work on story because I have a few hours before going to the retreat. Sometimes that's all I need, but other times I need more to get back into the story. Just a friendly nudge, that's all. Soon enough we'll be moving to the new building at work. Most of my stuff is packed. I had less than I thought I had. I still want to get rid of more. The job is mostly on the computer, so I could probably safely get rid of all my paper stuff or most of it. They keep pretty good records.
The Society of St. Vincent de Paul was created by a 20-year-old college student and some friends. Incredible. Now the society is still going strong today, helping people who were in jail to get out and live fulfilling lives. Isn't that nice, to get to the end of your life and tell God at the final judgment that you helped people turn their lives around, that you did something good for someone else? I try not to give into aggravation, but I'm not compromising enough. It is my way or the highway and I have to work on that.
Don't rush and take your time. It's hard to take your time in life, knowing that your time is finite. I would like more time to just sit back and take it easy, but those times tend to be brief moments that I can imagine stretching out into the distance. God's hand is on my shoulder, guiding me toward the future. He will be there in my future. I don't want to move far from him, but sometimes all these earthly things get in the way and by the time I try to shove them out, they have gotten too heavy.
I found the $20 I thought I lost. It was sitting on the floor under my desk. Why I never thought to look there, I will never know, but in a way, I'm glad that I lost it because it taught me to be more careful, and I got to use it for something better than what I was intending to use it for.
There was no working coffee machine in either break room, so I had to have Earl Grey tea. Nothing wrong with it, but it's just not as good as coffee. Everyone is going to Mass but me.
The new building has opened and it feels like a really fancy airport. Like it's too good for me. I used to work at Pizza Hut not too long ago but pulled myself up from my bootstraps. I'm glad my dad pushed me to do better. Sometimes we all just need a push. I feel better than I did yesterday. My back and head don't hurt. The new building has free coffee and it's high-class stuff. The break rooms all have Keurigs and there's no bad corporate artwork on the wall (yet). the walls are a soothing blue. How nice.
I want to write. Just a full day with nothing to do but write. Get a hotel room, free coffee, and sit there all day with my computer and a pad of paper and my story notes and my brain. Just write. Not be interrupted except for meals and perhaps my husband. That's it. I don't want anything else. Just a moment of selfishness and I'll go back to my daily routine. I hate hearing people talk without saying anything. To me there is nothing worse because all those unnecessary words can really hurt. You end up talking too much.
I still remember everything, and it comes out in dreams. Dreams remind me of things I haven't thought of in so long, and things I didn't want to remember. Someone was asking me questions and I was screaming out the answers to try to make a point. Then I dreamed I was a prostitute. I have that dream quite often. Not sure why. Maybe it means that my self-esteem needs to get better. I keep thinking of the guy who murdered his wife and how he must feel. He should have gotten mental help. I wonder how much she knew.
Woke up with "Electric Avenue" stuck in my head. I am spending some time writing this morning. Trying to get back on track with all my commitments. I'm giving myself permission to ignore the chores so I can do something productive. I wish laundry didn't have to take so long. At least the machine turns off automatically so it doesn't waste a ton of power. I'm going to do my best to not leave the heat on. I wrote over 2,000 words last Saturday. I don't know how I did it. I used to struggle to write that many.
Love me like you do. I heard that song come on in the restaurant. I know it's supposed to be about that movie, 50 Shades of Grey, but it always brings tears to my eyes because it's just so touching. Maybe it's the quality of Ellie Goulding's voice or the lyrics. I was thinking about it in terms of God. Sometimes when he speaks, we hear him so clearly. He loves us in a unique way, something only he can do. We will always know God's love because it is more powerful than any human love. We just might not recognize it.
We're in the new office and everyone is having ergonomic issues. They put the computer screens too close to our faces, so they are burning our eyes. The whole place smells like new car. It is giving me a headache, or maybe that's just because I didn't have caffeine until quite late. I have a short phone call later, to test the capability of the phone. I'm going to get the ergonomics people to come adjust me. People keep walking around and it's highly distracting. I wonder if I'm being distracting. They like to keep us on our toes at the office.
It is so hard to communicate when I want to stare into space and do absolutely nothing. I wish they could read the words on my face, but I'd probably just deny them anyway. I had a dream I was trying to protect a wren's eggs from another bird who wanted to steal the nest. The bird was kicking the eggs out of the nest, and I tried to catch the eggs before they hit the ground, but I failed to catch them and they splattered yolk everywhere. I wonder what Freud would say about that one. Probably some biological clock thing.
Agh! I might have a secret, but I'm not sure yet. I have to call husband at 8 this morning. It is still so odd to have a husband when I don't feel like much of a wife. I always thought a wife was supposed to cook and make delicious meals all the time, but now I'm not so sure. A wife should be a source of moral support and all that stuff, too. Basically, you have to wear a lot of hats. I have a meeting today. Don't want to go. But isn't life just a series of meetings?
Happy Ides of March! I have a plan while I'm waiting for my PDF to load. We did morning prayer this morning, so I feel better. I actually feel like writing today. Transitions bug me. The move to the new office has been overstimulating. The place gives me a headache because everything is different, and I'm not quite used to it yet. I don't know what to feed my husband for dinner, but I have a few ideas. I have a better idea of what to feed myself for dinner, but that's neither here nor there, ain't that right?
Back in the office; today's the day before St. Paddy's. Getting ready for it. The salt overload of the corned beef. Good thing we only have it once a year. This weekend is going to be pretty much free. I'm making an egg casserole Sunday and hope it turns out good because it's going to be for our church family. We have so much dysfunction but we are a good family. We love each other in this world full of chaos, and I guess that's all that matters. The sky is rainbow colors. I have yet to use the transgender bathroom at work.
Agh, time of the month is not fun. Sorry for the TMI, but it is dominating my thoughts. I'm just glad that I wasn't around in the years before medicine, when women were ostracized during that time of the month. When they were unclean. Sometimes people still subscribe to that Old Testament view of the unclean woman. I don't believe that. It's just a cycle, just like all the other rhythms of nature. A painful one, yes, but it is a cycle to be respected because it brings life. It is so important to be aware of the cycles.
I don't know how to trust. It is easier to anticipate the worst, so when the worst comes, it doesn't hurt you. But it hurts to anticipate the worst, like always bracing yourself and stiffening up your muscles for some attack that feels inevitable but may never come. In the meantime, you're so stiff that you can't move toward love or moving toward love is difficult. Bracing is like predicting the future. You can't do it. So why bother? But how do you build up trust with someone? I can't trust. I have never been able to. It makes no sense.
I had a nice weekend. Coming back to Easter pretty soon. This is really the first year I haven't given up music. I mean, I haven't been listening in the car when I'm by myself, and I haven't turned on YouTube and listened in my spare time. The church songs are still floating through my head because husband plays them on his guitar. I love that man. He is so admirable. I can't wait. I'm so excited for our lives. I guess this is what marriage is like. Or supposed to be like. Joy. I have found my vocation.
He has been good. I don't know why this is so surprising. He should be good all the time, no questions asked. His mother is not calling as much, and he's not really calling her. I guess that must be part of it. She tends to stress him out and interfere. I don't want to stress him out unless I really need to. Wives are supposed to give husbands gray hair, right? Everyone is complaining about the new building. No hot water machines, Keurigs suck, too much white noise that can cause hearing loss... the list goes on and on.
Yesterday, I went into an independent bookstore and got disgusted by all the bullshit in books published today. Writers have always bothered me because they can be so pretentious. I don't like talking about my writing besides online. I hate saying I'm writing this, that, and the other because someone will always be like "oh, so when's it going to be done?" "what's it about?" "where are you going to publish it?" and other innocent questions. The answer to everything is I don't know. I just like writing. I don't care about publishing it, really. Nobody cares enough to steal it.
I keep dreaming about babies. Little kids. I wonder if that means my biological clock is going. I do believe in the biological clock, even though I know that some women don't. I am turning 30 this June. My body is not used to having kids, and it should be. I am too used to periods. I will be good with however many kids God gives us. I want two, a boy and a girl. Or two boys or two girls. I want them healthy and well-behaved and believing in God. That is really all I could ask for.
I feel like I'm doing something good. It's Friday and I feel somewhat relaxed. Maybe it won't be as hectic of a Friday, although I do have what feels like 10 million meetings (only three meetings). This is my husband's weekend, so he can do whatever he likes. I guess the hormonal tides have turned, which is why I feel better, but it could also have to do with drinking coffee. I was wanting to do a parody of "Whiskey in the Jar" by Metallica but relate it to coffee and editing. My coworkers are leaning over the glass and it's dangerous.
I'm reading a book about Eleanor of Aquitaine and the author doesn't make her sympathetic at all. She seems so shallow, like all she wants is adventure in her life and to sleep with guys that excite her like her grandfather. It's almost creepy in a way, but incest wasn't a big deal then like it is now. And her husband, Louis VII, seems fine. OK, so he's not a hunk and he sucks in bed. But he's your husband. It shouldn't matter. Anyway. I can ship her and Henry II, though. Shame they didn't meet when she was younger.
Terminology is everything. You can change someone's opinion on something based on just the words you use. I'm never going to say the F-word anymore. It is meaningless and degrading now. I really need to curb my potty mouth. It's not so bad when I'm around certain groups, like when I'm at work, I don't say anything. But when I'm with people I know, it comes out. I need to quit because it is making me sound less worthy. I need to set myself apart from people for whom purity is not a virtue. I still need St. Agnes.
Waiting for the church songs to stay in my head. All glory, laud, and honor to Jesus Christ the King. He is the one we should be waiting for. Let's make this a quiet holy week. I'm going to be as patient as possible. Husband is starting a new job, so this isn't going to be easy. I am going to be there for him no matter what. Even if that means sacrificing sleep or "me time" or whatever. Marriage is supposed to be sacrifice. I need to practice so I can make bigger sacrifices when the time comes.
My coworker let me read the aphorisms of Antonio Porchia. I miss literature and deep stuff. Seems like nothing I do today is deep and is all government minutiae. I did a deep thing yesterday, and I thought about it the entire time. Thought about how this is love and for love, I would do anything. Go to the ends of the earth and rip apart the deepest insides of myself to give more of myself to you. I want to do better for you because I love you more than anything except God who gave me life. Who gave her life.
I guess the hardest thing to do is just love and have patience. I don't know how to deal with any of this and I don't know if it's a matter of putting my foot down and being stubborn or just not saying anything when I am wronged, which is all the time. I'm just tired of not knowing the difference between sacrifice and sticking up for oneself. It's very frustrating. I guess when it starts to attack my rights as a person, then I can say it's wrong. But how important are my rights? Just as important as everyone else's.
Have you no honor? Have you no shame? Have you no soul? I guess one man's vision of honor is different from that of another man. I must needs keep my mouth shut, lest I offend someone. But it is not offense that I worry about. It is what will happen if I say nothing. Or say the wrong thing. You may never improve. But my words mean nothing. I don't know what I can do to be motivating. I thought just me would be enough, but it's not anymore. What is there to do? I can't do anything anymore.
Can a clean house stay clean for longer than five minutes after I clean it? I don't think so. Today is going to be spring cleaning, and Monday is going to be spring errands. The weekend is Easter and family stuff. I haven't even thought about what I'm going to make for the vegetable item I'm supposed to bring. Vegetables really aren't hard. Just follow the directions. If I make something with lemon in it, it is sure to be a crowd-pleaser. Someone found their class ring after many years. What a shame it would be to be parted from it.
There is no magic bullet to defeating addictions. I don't understand them, having never been addicted to anything, but I do understand the compulsion to do something, even when I know it's wrong and it would be to my detriment to do it.
It is Silent Saturday between Good Friday and Easter, and I'm feeling hopeless. My mind is trying to turn toward God, but the devil is telling me that I don't deserve his mercy. I just wish that I could go to him and not feel horrible and undeserving. I love him, but I don't love him purely or enough.
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