changing pace, turning around. good.
I was going to say a little something like this:
"when I am sad, I eat a cookie"
http://explodingdog.com/january2/wheniamsadieatacookie.html
our basement flooded and that's not the worst of it. luckily with the way our house slanted, only our family room and laundry room and half of erica's room are out of commission. but it stinks and is cold with fans blowing and it's really shitted up my whole mood.
All that's needed is some calm. Just slow breaths, lavender tea with big flowers pressed to give flavor, hanging upside down, peppermint schapps hot chocolate. But not even that. It's more. I can't quite get calm ever. Well, not ever ever. Just recently. Calm doesn't come, no matter what. And most of the time I don't notice, too excited flying about my world to realize i'm not calm, but now, now i notice. Especially when James slows down - he's calm as fuck man. and it's hard to keep pace with his calmness.
Something inside me tenses me up, flips me around and i get worked up about things that matter but don't. don't matter in the big world. don't matter in my world. and i can't quite figure out where it comes from but my heart beats too fast too much and won't slow down no matter how i tempt it. things would be easier if i could get calm. and by calm i'm not saying slow or more meaningful. just calm. when i go about day to day things. calm.
But, INSTEAD, it's not like that. I felt that way, but now it's gone. Gone. Gone. And so now, intentions shift, and I say a little something like this:
The soggy basement is being fixed. It's not the last problem the house will have to deal with, hopefully it won't collapse before i want to move out of it. It will get worse, but somehow, knowing that I don't have to stay here forever, not locked down, up and moving, I figure, loudly, this does not represent my life.
In the company of people, good spaces good people, everything i know is accessible and easy. easy to love a life like this, keeping it simple, quiet, good. I've let go of all the things that made me feel uptight, and I did that on purpose. Things are better now. I'm thinking about writing a thesis paper, reading about brazil, planning for big dates, dressing up the fact that I am losing a lot that I don't want to be losing but have nothing to do with the decisions, and thinking about great outcomes.
People forget sometimes it's not just about them. More to the world than what I want or ought to be able to touch. That's my big frustration. When they lose sight of what is out there. Only worrying about lookinggoodbeingadmiredcountingfriendsinmeaninglesshandfulslookhowuniqueiam. Obsessed with reputation. Not able to think of the big picture. That, I have no patience for.
Elisa's birthday package that was sent three months ago, returned to me, with the claim of "wrong address" which it wasn't. I'm trying to stay true to my love of the postal service, but after four of us paying sixty some dollars and all, what can I think but manohmanohman. And we're going to try again. Which is funny. But maybe she'll get it this time, and at least it wasn't lost in the midst of thousands of wet dirty confiscated boxes.
Feeling good though. Rested and real. Regaining steps in record time.
Tonight I'm off to play apples to apples with good friends and saying goodbye to miss mary who heads back to school tomorrow.
"when I am sad, I eat a cookie"
http://explodingdog.com/january2/wheniamsadieatacookie.html
our basement flooded and that's not the worst of it. luckily with the way our house slanted, only our family room and laundry room and half of erica's room are out of commission. but it stinks and is cold with fans blowing and it's really shitted up my whole mood.
All that's needed is some calm. Just slow breaths, lavender tea with big flowers pressed to give flavor, hanging upside down, peppermint schapps hot chocolate. But not even that. It's more. I can't quite get calm ever. Well, not ever ever. Just recently. Calm doesn't come, no matter what. And most of the time I don't notice, too excited flying about my world to realize i'm not calm, but now, now i notice. Especially when James slows down - he's calm as fuck man. and it's hard to keep pace with his calmness.
Something inside me tenses me up, flips me around and i get worked up about things that matter but don't. don't matter in the big world. don't matter in my world. and i can't quite figure out where it comes from but my heart beats too fast too much and won't slow down no matter how i tempt it. things would be easier if i could get calm. and by calm i'm not saying slow or more meaningful. just calm. when i go about day to day things. calm.
But, INSTEAD, it's not like that. I felt that way, but now it's gone. Gone. Gone. And so now, intentions shift, and I say a little something like this:
The soggy basement is being fixed. It's not the last problem the house will have to deal with, hopefully it won't collapse before i want to move out of it. It will get worse, but somehow, knowing that I don't have to stay here forever, not locked down, up and moving, I figure, loudly, this does not represent my life.
In the company of people, good spaces good people, everything i know is accessible and easy. easy to love a life like this, keeping it simple, quiet, good. I've let go of all the things that made me feel uptight, and I did that on purpose. Things are better now. I'm thinking about writing a thesis paper, reading about brazil, planning for big dates, dressing up the fact that I am losing a lot that I don't want to be losing but have nothing to do with the decisions, and thinking about great outcomes.
People forget sometimes it's not just about them. More to the world than what I want or ought to be able to touch. That's my big frustration. When they lose sight of what is out there. Only worrying about lookinggoodbeingadmiredcountingfriendsinmeaninglesshandfulslookhowuniqueiam. Obsessed with reputation. Not able to think of the big picture. That, I have no patience for.
Elisa's birthday package that was sent three months ago, returned to me, with the claim of "wrong address" which it wasn't. I'm trying to stay true to my love of the postal service, but after four of us paying sixty some dollars and all, what can I think but manohmanohman. And we're going to try again. Which is funny. But maybe she'll get it this time, and at least it wasn't lost in the midst of thousands of wet dirty confiscated boxes.
Feeling good though. Rested and real. Regaining steps in record time.
Tonight I'm off to play apples to apples with good friends and saying goodbye to miss mary who heads back to school tomorrow.