(no subject)
I've a friend who once talked about his dark times being like a pit he was always running from, and sometimes it caught up to him. It catches up to me sometimes, too.
I don't like to write about it much, though. It's so whiny, it feels like standing in public and crying, you know? That's what all our blogs are, after all, all our little boxes we've set up in Speakers' Corner, shouting out to the passing crowd. So I tend to go a bit quiet at these times.
Plus (and here come the whiny bits), it's difficult to find the words. Or, rather, it's difficult to find the courage to speak them, to put them up on the screen and let them stand, whiny or not. It's difficult to believe there is any value to them.
I am nothing goes the refrain of the pit, a stab to the heart, and a reminder, every time.
Glee made me cry tonight. It's coming up on that season again, and every mention of dying dads will no doubt bring the tears. It'll be four years next month, and it's still unexpectedly raw. All my hopes feel so far away and out-of-reach, work is being all...worky and poisoned by the corporate mindset, I'm missing conversational cues with pretty much everyone (I should really just shut up and keep my brain to myself), and my ex is being a passive-aggressive shit...
But I have coffee, and music in my ears (the good stuff, you know who I mean), and two whole days off coming up, in which I hope to draw and work on my new header and write and take the first woods ramble of the season and do a crappy store-bought bleach job on my hair and maybe even work on some motorbaby garb. *fingers crossed for all of it*
So you see, I know how to hunker down and wait for the pit to let go.
I don't like to write about it much, though. It's so whiny, it feels like standing in public and crying, you know? That's what all our blogs are, after all, all our little boxes we've set up in Speakers' Corner, shouting out to the passing crowd. So I tend to go a bit quiet at these times.
Plus (and here come the whiny bits), it's difficult to find the words. Or, rather, it's difficult to find the courage to speak them, to put them up on the screen and let them stand, whiny or not. It's difficult to believe there is any value to them.
I am nothing goes the refrain of the pit, a stab to the heart, and a reminder, every time.
Glee made me cry tonight. It's coming up on that season again, and every mention of dying dads will no doubt bring the tears. It'll be four years next month, and it's still unexpectedly raw. All my hopes feel so far away and out-of-reach, work is being all...worky and poisoned by the corporate mindset, I'm missing conversational cues with pretty much everyone (I should really just shut up and keep my brain to myself), and my ex is being a passive-aggressive shit...
But I have coffee, and music in my ears (the good stuff, you know who I mean), and two whole days off coming up, in which I hope to draw and work on my new header and write and take the first woods ramble of the season and do a crappy store-bought bleach job on my hair and maybe even work on some motorbaby garb. *fingers crossed for all of it*
So you see, I know how to hunker down and wait for the pit to let go.