Busy Girl Forgets Important Adventures
I went flying. A co-worker is a hobby pilot, and took me and Dave in a tiny plane from Vanderhoof to Smithers to Terrace to Burns Lake and back. Looking down at the land changing from a low open valley to gravel-spike snowy mountains, watching the rivers meander and crash and the patchwork quilts of green, it hammered me with the same emotion love always drives into me: a frantic restlessness, a need to do or prove as if the love can't just exist without action. This is dragon-slaying love, questing love, poetry-writing love. It is not lying together and feeling breath and heartbeat love. I look forward to its maturation.
This land. Love. And here I am in it. I never know what to do with what I want when I get it, though I am so good at getting it.
And I passed a check-cruise this week, so I'm officially up to standard at my job, and I'm not always so far behind anymore, and I'm not exhausted at the end of each day. We're on easy ground this week, so that likely helps, but I'm no longer feeling like work is impossible and I'm no good. It's gonna be ok.
This land. Love. And here I am in it. I never know what to do with what I want when I get it, though I am so good at getting it.
And I passed a check-cruise this week, so I'm officially up to standard at my job, and I'm not always so far behind anymore, and I'm not exhausted at the end of each day. We're on easy ground this week, so that likely helps, but I'm no longer feeling like work is impossible and I'm no good. It's gonna be ok.