The day is grey outside, kinda blue in here. Partly weather caused, partly hormonal. Just a small case of the Blahs! Nothing major. Construction on the cocoon hasn’t begun. No need to send in a posse. Indeed a brief walk might fix everything.
I’ve been invited out for a walk tomorrow afternoon followed by dinner, which is something to look forward to this holiday weekend. I may also have a sidekick to attend the local wine tasting event coming up in a few weeks, that I blew off a gig in Miramichi so I could attend . . . which means I’ve GOT to attend.
I’m feeling so blessed these days. Everything has fallen into place. When you step back and allow the universe to work its magic, things just happen. Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life. I’m so far removed from where I used to be 10 years ago, even less time than that. Just the other day talking to Mom about painting I was reminded of painting the washrooms at the Power Track. My boy and I painted the ladies one night. Hah! What a disaster that paint job turned out to be! Neither one of us had ever painted anything before and we couldn’t keep our hands off one another long enough to accomplish much anyway. Painted it green and it dried blue. And I think I just left it that way. Darren and I (but mostly Darren) painted the men’s, which was of course a much better job, and a different kind of night. Sometimes I just want to call him up so we can argue about something silly. From there to here, who would’ve ever imagined I’d become all respectable? Who knew I could look after myself? I certainly never imagined, though I had hoped.
I’ve got to do some writing today, some writing that takes me back to more volatile times, to that bedroom again. I don’t know how many times I will have to relive the heartbreak and humiliation before it will be done. I’m always surprised that I’m still able to summon tears when I go there. Because on the one hand I see it totally for what it was and I’ve forgiven myself for putting myself into harm’s way like that, I’ve analyzed it to death and I know exactly what happened and more importantly why. Yet I’m still able to step back and feel the raw hurt, the fear and despair. I’m able to step into it like it was yesterday. I guess it’ll just be that way until it isn’t, until maybe I’ve got everything out of it that I can use. This seems to be the way of writers. A friend of mine seems to be doing the same thing, writing about the same girl over and over. Writing is the greatest healer, Magie said, and she was right. That’s probably another reason why I’m a little blue today, because I know where the story’s going. It’s a little odd to be so sad and happy all at the same time though.
Mood: just okay, but happy
Drinking: coffee, the super cheap stuff (i will splurge and buy good coffee for stacy’s upcoming visit . . . even tho she’s not that into coffee, any excuse to splurge)
Listening To: Clocks, Coldplay
Hair: i’m seriously going to go at it myself . . . or i’ll have to price cuts here, I cannot possibly lug this mop to Frye