After living with one person for a year and then having visitors for a
month or two, you begin to realize the set ways you have. And how
it’s like you expect them to already know. Truth is, what may seem
like common sense to you, is actually your experiences merely collected
over the year.
You have become a ‘robot’ under your own conditions, extracting what
YOU feel is important and making choices which you feel works best for
you. Since you have had noone their to do otherwise, it is this way
that you become used to and essentially, become good at.
All this is only a bad thing if we are unable to cut some slack on the
newcomer. We don’t need to slather the victim all at once with these
lackings or differences we notice and would like to change. We keep
patience in our pocket and as the days go on we can decide on
something to mention; to point a bothersome crinkle out.
Overtime we may see that these ‘hindrences’ are not really as
bulky a deal as we thought them to be in the first place.
We can actually handle having the spatulas in a different drawer
and it’s not the end of the world if the tea kettle doesn’t have any
water in it when we go to use it.
Slathering anything on them, whether it be all at once or spread over
weeks, may not be as crucial of an occurance as we thought.
Even if it means using less milk for the cereal or being the one to refill
the waterbottles, we do it because we love them.
And we can’t even help but do it.
It's really quite note-worthy of how awake one can be one
morning and how
absolutly not, another.
I fine tuned a song on my guitar and cut branches that were
hiding the garbage can outside. I spent an hour perfecting
an email, did the sink of dishes, dusted things up high
and had the urge to swim in the pool.
All before 8:30 am.
My creative juices do flow.
I may as well don a cap of slothery and climb into a bed of lazy leaves.
Two upbeat days in a row?
Sheesh, who am I kidding but myself.
But I do kid myself because I am more of one then a sloth. At least for now.
And longterm I do thank my pops for that one.
And shorterm I just look at Life in the eyes and smile,
knowing that from it, I get everything I have.
I get the happiness that gives me the energy to do what I do in the morning.
Bend me a cloud like they do the balloons on fairgrounds.
Bend it into a soundbox with sound.. And I’ll spray paint it.
Build me a cloud with another cloud inside of it.
We can paint that to.
Wild horses. One day I’d like to ride one- bare backed.. on land
that sews itself to the sky.Where the thread of lazed un-labour weaves
itself through the clouds and the setting sun; a blanket untouchable.
Soft creases under her eyes and dirty lips sealed with defiance.
Cheekbones like foxhounds, deep red and sly…with eyelashes dark and heavy,
bottom ones lined out in easy fashion.
Days keep knocking each other up, making birthdays for all the months out there. And they do it quickly without much hesitation. Makes me think there’s a Base somewhere, holding a fleet of trained months,
on stand by.
Two times in a week is a record for me.
But I guess I’m somewhere within those frames of mind, that let me see a solid picture. One that I can feel for and write about.
My hands smell like the small rubber gloves I was wearing. I picked up leaves with them. Me and my Mom. At my house.
And when I go back to Canada for the holidays, I’ll be at my parents’ house.
And that’s all different because their house and my house were always the same.
I think I’ve done a lot of growing up in the past year. I think I knew it to. I didn’t try to swat it away or sprint from it.. I accepted it. I find that some people have difficulty with this and I think that’s okay because everyone is different.
I love my life and something very big is going to happen in it; if not next month, then the one after.
Somewhere in my early teens, I became secretive about a lot of things I did. My parents were strict and rebelling became my way of freedom and independence.
Since I wasn’t able to get together with a lot of people ( because of the distance or my parents didn’t approve) I spent a lot of hours online, chatting away to people. and this was how I best communicated.I knew I was less shy online, and was more comfortable with that. And I know now that it was one of the places where my confidence derived from.
Based on the time I spent typing to individuals in those years, you would think I would be less hesitant to share.
But somehow I still have that pebble in my gut that has me refraining from typing out to cyberworld. Because I don’t know who is going to read it. I don’t know whose eyes my words will reach.
When I think about posting something, it feels more like work to me because of the standards I have set. I want to make every sentence proper and the grammar flawless.
I think I am learning that I should just drop those defences. Maybe they can come back another time.. when I am more comfortable with pressing ‘publish post’.
You may ask why I even bother having a blogging site if it is such a hassle for me to post.
I wouldn’t call it a hassle or even a negative block . Just a challenge I’d like to eventually overcome.
And I guess this post begins the overcoming.