Christian called me at nine this morning without any specific reason to.
Come for breakfast, I told him.
Naw, Bridget. You haven't even been there twenty-four hours. Relax.
I miss you guys.
We miss you too, girlie but on the other hand, I don't have to put on pants now if I'm not going anywhere.
Just admit it, you're a nudist.
Okay. I'm a nudist.
Nudists have to eat too, you know.
I don't want to scar the kids for life.
Then put on pants before you come over.
I promise I will do that. But really I just wanted to say thank you.
For?
Batman's two dudes had me here and set up in under an hour. I felt useless.
Enjoy it while it lasts. I hope you helped.
Of course. I felt weird standing around.
Nice having privacy?
Sort of.
It's okay, you know.
I know. Are you okay, Bridge?
Yup. It's just a little quiet.
Have Pyro practice his guitar chords. That should be noisy. Holy hell.
Meanie.
Truth. Or even Ben. Ben's pretty loud. But at least he can play.
He did play a little already last night.
How's the sound?
Terrific. Great acoustics in the kitchen.
Awesome. Hear from PJ?
Nope.
Caleb?
Nope.
Bridge-
You coming for lunch then if you won't come for breakfast?
Possibly.
Okay gotta go. I'm starving and I need toast.
Okay then I'll see you soon and I'll harass you then.
I hope so. I'm having withdrawals already.
Monday, 11 February 2013
Sunday, 10 February 2013
Fortunes told.
Now I think I get it in a way that I may have not understood before.
Money, I mean.
Batman had a team of trusted people come in and work to unpack all of our things last night, working until the house was ready. They used photographs and instructions and common sense and they got everything right.
It was more than a little surreal to come in this morning and find my power cord on the desk, plugged in just waiting for my laptop. To open the drawer in our bathroom and find that stupid box of dental tape that I hate because it cuts my gums still in the plastic organizer box, same as it used to be in the house on the point. My favorite lipgloss? Sitting on the counter beside my wooden hairbrush. Where it always is.
In the living room I noticed the wooden articulated figures we use for life drawings still in their obscene positions together. I walk over to the stereo and press play and the CD is still Footloose (1984, not the new one. Geez). Mike Reno is singing. I had taken that CD out and put it away, but it was in the stereo when they did their inventories so here it is back in the player now.
I open the fridge. It's stocked with everything I buy, even though we did a magnificent job at using up all the perishables and giving the rest to Daniel to finish up, since we were the first ones to go.
I couldn't be the last. I just couldn't.
I didn't expect the move to be this painless. Is this how people live? I don't live like this. I rent rickety, questionably-safe U-Hauls and I sign contracts I don't understand and I hope for the best and am always surprised in the end. Always. I go into debt for things that should cost less and I sell the small remaining fragments of my soul to the Devil for the rest and I'm suddenly not supposed to do that anymore but I don't see how that's going to work.
But I really like this new house.
It's smaller, more inviting. The lights glow in warm yellow tones at night and the woods are dark and lovely and peaceful all the way around. There's no wind. There's a driveway and space for two vehicles. There are four bedrooms, as I told you before and at my request the fourth one was made up for when Duncan and Dalton come back. They'll stay here with us for a few weeks while they find a new place. Everyone else is organized but they are flexible enough to want to wait until they are back in the province to look in person. I can't blame them for that. And the added people around me will make this transition a tiny bit gentler and less abrupt.
It helps. I'm a little fish out of water otherwise. I really don't like change and this one was slow and steady overall and the least difficult of every one so far.
The kids like the house. They like their rooms. They like that they can bike on the road. They like the promise of the deep dark woods and they like the idea that they will have to answer to three adults instead of twelve, most of the time.
Ben likes the house. He's very big in it, ducking through standard doorways, taking up huge amounts of room. It's like things were in the castle, only those rooms were smaller still. Lochlan is himself here, relaxed and calm. Certain, somehow as if he is the fortune teller instead of the woman with the skirts I spent so much time with on the road, as she sometimes babysat me for a sixth of Lochlan's pay. He says things will be just fine. She never said that. She warned me that I had a face that would ruin all those who gazed upon it. She called me Medusa. She swore at me in a language I didn't understand and she refused to ever do my reading again.
Now I get sandwich-hugs more than a few times from my loves, both of them surrounding me with their arms. Three musketeers now for real. No help, no backup, no distractions. Just one big fuckup, one little fuckup and a dreamer who can't clear his head long enough to see grey, instead seeing black and white, putting rules to all anomalies until things run straight again without surprise, and then he works to maintain that total control with a huge helping of magic, fireworks, wonderment and ridiculousness on the side.
Yeah, we'll be okay.
And there's cake. Which we didn't have but they left one anyway. :)
Money, I mean.
Batman had a team of trusted people come in and work to unpack all of our things last night, working until the house was ready. They used photographs and instructions and common sense and they got everything right.
It was more than a little surreal to come in this morning and find my power cord on the desk, plugged in just waiting for my laptop. To open the drawer in our bathroom and find that stupid box of dental tape that I hate because it cuts my gums still in the plastic organizer box, same as it used to be in the house on the point. My favorite lipgloss? Sitting on the counter beside my wooden hairbrush. Where it always is.
In the living room I noticed the wooden articulated figures we use for life drawings still in their obscene positions together. I walk over to the stereo and press play and the CD is still Footloose (1984, not the new one. Geez). Mike Reno is singing. I had taken that CD out and put it away, but it was in the stereo when they did their inventories so here it is back in the player now.
I open the fridge. It's stocked with everything I buy, even though we did a magnificent job at using up all the perishables and giving the rest to Daniel to finish up, since we were the first ones to go.
I couldn't be the last. I just couldn't.
I didn't expect the move to be this painless. Is this how people live? I don't live like this. I rent rickety, questionably-safe U-Hauls and I sign contracts I don't understand and I hope for the best and am always surprised in the end. Always. I go into debt for things that should cost less and I sell the small remaining fragments of my soul to the Devil for the rest and I'm suddenly not supposed to do that anymore but I don't see how that's going to work.
But I really like this new house.
It's smaller, more inviting. The lights glow in warm yellow tones at night and the woods are dark and lovely and peaceful all the way around. There's no wind. There's a driveway and space for two vehicles. There are four bedrooms, as I told you before and at my request the fourth one was made up for when Duncan and Dalton come back. They'll stay here with us for a few weeks while they find a new place. Everyone else is organized but they are flexible enough to want to wait until they are back in the province to look in person. I can't blame them for that. And the added people around me will make this transition a tiny bit gentler and less abrupt.
It helps. I'm a little fish out of water otherwise. I really don't like change and this one was slow and steady overall and the least difficult of every one so far.
The kids like the house. They like their rooms. They like that they can bike on the road. They like the promise of the deep dark woods and they like the idea that they will have to answer to three adults instead of twelve, most of the time.
Ben likes the house. He's very big in it, ducking through standard doorways, taking up huge amounts of room. It's like things were in the castle, only those rooms were smaller still. Lochlan is himself here, relaxed and calm. Certain, somehow as if he is the fortune teller instead of the woman with the skirts I spent so much time with on the road, as she sometimes babysat me for a sixth of Lochlan's pay. He says things will be just fine. She never said that. She warned me that I had a face that would ruin all those who gazed upon it. She called me Medusa. She swore at me in a language I didn't understand and she refused to ever do my reading again.
Now I get sandwich-hugs more than a few times from my loves, both of them surrounding me with their arms. Three musketeers now for real. No help, no backup, no distractions. Just one big fuckup, one little fuckup and a dreamer who can't clear his head long enough to see grey, instead seeing black and white, putting rules to all anomalies until things run straight again without surprise, and then he works to maintain that total control with a huge helping of magic, fireworks, wonderment and ridiculousness on the side.
Yeah, we'll be okay.
And there's cake. Which we didn't have but they left one anyway. :)
Saturday, 9 February 2013
Scratch-and-dent sugarbaby sale.
I'm sure it's the right decision. I just worry about you so fucking much, and I worry about you being away from the water again.
Lochlan has his hands in his pockets. He's cold. The wind is endless this morning. We're on the wrong side of the fence on the dangerous part of the cliff, watching the action far below as Christian and Schuyler remove the bronze plaques from the rocks far below. It's low tide. It's the only chance we'll have to collect them. I'll leave the trees we planted. I have peppered the country clear across with little memorials here and significant odes there but currently ghosts are not on my mind. I have to dial in my focus on the living.
The living stands with his hands in his pockets, zippo in his fingers, probably. He's in a fine dark-grey v-necked t-shirt that cost me more than he would want to know about and his army green cargo pants. His rarely-worn silver chain is tucked inside his collar. He looks slight. Pale. Always a little too thin but stronger than his build suggests. His confidence picks up where his appearance leaves off. He never seems strong but he is. He just likes to be busy. He hates being parked in front of a computer and will be using a standing desk when he starts working nine to five again soon. Regular paycheques for a regular mortgage.
We wanted normal, we're going to get it.
Ben is sleeping in. Still worn out. Still taking up the emperor bed which will be dismantled next and so I should go in and get him up but Lochlan wants to make sure the others come up safely before he leaves, so I'm not allowed to make my way back to the gate into the safety of the backyard. As long as he can see me that is the safest place, even if it means I remain perched on this ledge in the wind.
I should be across the driveway making my apologies in person but Caleb (generously and without hesitation on the phone) volunteered to host a sleepover and movie weekend for the children. He's maybe as afraid to be alone again as I am to leave him alone here but at the same time when has he ever made things emotionally easy for me? That's right. It happened the last time we forced a logistical separation. So that's what I'm doing again.
(In case you wondered about him being alone here? He's received more than one lucrative offer for the whole property and is currently mulling over terms. Maybe that was the catalyst as much as anything. The minute he bought the other house developers came out of the fucking woodwork. He won't be left behind.)
Against my wishes we're checking into a hotel downtown tonight while Batman's people unpack the new house literally overnight. Once they are finished we will have brunch downtown and then head home. To the new home. It was the one final service Batman offered and then pushed for.
Make it as painless as you can while you can, Princess, he told me and so I nodded and signed off on that too.
In the meantime I am gulping down lungfuls of salt air like it's the last thing I ever breathe.
Lochlan has his hands in his pockets. He's cold. The wind is endless this morning. We're on the wrong side of the fence on the dangerous part of the cliff, watching the action far below as Christian and Schuyler remove the bronze plaques from the rocks far below. It's low tide. It's the only chance we'll have to collect them. I'll leave the trees we planted. I have peppered the country clear across with little memorials here and significant odes there but currently ghosts are not on my mind. I have to dial in my focus on the living.
The living stands with his hands in his pockets, zippo in his fingers, probably. He's in a fine dark-grey v-necked t-shirt that cost me more than he would want to know about and his army green cargo pants. His rarely-worn silver chain is tucked inside his collar. He looks slight. Pale. Always a little too thin but stronger than his build suggests. His confidence picks up where his appearance leaves off. He never seems strong but he is. He just likes to be busy. He hates being parked in front of a computer and will be using a standing desk when he starts working nine to five again soon. Regular paycheques for a regular mortgage.
We wanted normal, we're going to get it.
Ben is sleeping in. Still worn out. Still taking up the emperor bed which will be dismantled next and so I should go in and get him up but Lochlan wants to make sure the others come up safely before he leaves, so I'm not allowed to make my way back to the gate into the safety of the backyard. As long as he can see me that is the safest place, even if it means I remain perched on this ledge in the wind.
I should be across the driveway making my apologies in person but Caleb (generously and without hesitation on the phone) volunteered to host a sleepover and movie weekend for the children. He's maybe as afraid to be alone again as I am to leave him alone here but at the same time when has he ever made things emotionally easy for me? That's right. It happened the last time we forced a logistical separation. So that's what I'm doing again.
(In case you wondered about him being alone here? He's received more than one lucrative offer for the whole property and is currently mulling over terms. Maybe that was the catalyst as much as anything. The minute he bought the other house developers came out of the fucking woodwork. He won't be left behind.)
Against my wishes we're checking into a hotel downtown tonight while Batman's people unpack the new house literally overnight. Once they are finished we will have brunch downtown and then head home. To the new home. It was the one final service Batman offered and then pushed for.
Make it as painless as you can while you can, Princess, he told me and so I nodded and signed off on that too.
In the meantime I am gulping down lungfuls of salt air like it's the last thing I ever breathe.
Friday, 8 February 2013
I could pretend he's not as scary as I make him out to be but I really have to stop lying sometime.
(Ben is home. Ben is beautiful and I cried and cried as if when I blinked he wouldn't be there anymore but he still is and I didn't sleep last night I just hung on to him like a velcro monkey so please excuse whatever rambling stupid crap I'm about to put down here.)
If there's one thing I'm fairly good at, it's learning from my mistakes.
Stop laughing. Okay, please? I'm trying to live gracefully here. I'm trying to figure out how. The collective as a commune does not work. There are too many egos and not enough boundaries and zero privacy. We were so busy holding each other up we didn't see we were holding each other down. They spent so much time watching me that they had none left to spend on themselves and when PJ moved out abruptly this week I guess it was confirmation that by taking apart what we built they all might have a chance. That if we all remain here nothing is ever going to change.
I don't need a safety net THAT big. The one I have works just fine.
We bought a house shortly after New Years. A beautiful little new house up in the woods. Far off the beaten path but oddly closer to everything we need to get to. No longer will I have to go venture down the big scary highway for over an hour to grocery shop. No longer will I have to ask four times what they said instead of the usual two because the wind is roaring in my ears.
There's no private beach. No driver. No support network in the new house. It's all ours and we'll either finish ourselves off or...thrive, maybe. Only Ben, Lochlan, the children and myself will live there.
Caleb will be fine, I hope. I realize I may have broken his heart along with his patience but it was necessary. The pressure he was putting on me was so tremendous and so I just kept planning and planning and not telling him anything and then I chickened out altogether and told him in front of the facilitator as we sat for our quarterly meeting as a blended family.
The look on his face.
Further confirmation that this is the right step.
The children are very excited. And we don't need to live within Caleb's means. We did not earn them.
(Can you tell I'm inwardly freaking the fuck out over his reaction? Or lack of one? I couldn't tell him or he would have prevented me from leaving and I have to go. I can't stay here anymore. He's crushing me.)
We want normalcy.
Well, as much normalcy as a nuclear polyandrous family can have, that is. Lochlan is very happy. He's so freaking happy. There's a lot of talk that he did his magical brainwashing and I'm just a puppet. This is not true. It just isn't so stop. You're going to hear different all through this but it isn't him, it's me.
I'm going to escape the Devil with twenty days to spare.
I'm going to keep looking after my boys, no matter what, just more like in the way we used to when I had the castle. If they don't visit me every single day there will be hell to pay, but it isn't anything like the hell we're in right now.
Batman and his amazing team of miracle workers helped orchestrate this. I do apologize for pretending we were on the outs but I had to in order to keep Caleb in the dark. At no time did I choose Caleb over Batman. Neither one is mine to keep but at least Batman has marginally more self-control and a better view of the big picture.
Caleb has tunnel vision and at the end of the tunnel is me.
I'm not his vision, for fucks sakes and I play him thinking there will be no repercussions. There are always repercussions. I just don't know what they are yet but as bad as things will be with him, they will be better for everyone else.
It'll work. You'll see.
If there's one thing I'm fairly good at, it's learning from my mistakes.
Stop laughing. Okay, please? I'm trying to live gracefully here. I'm trying to figure out how. The collective as a commune does not work. There are too many egos and not enough boundaries and zero privacy. We were so busy holding each other up we didn't see we were holding each other down. They spent so much time watching me that they had none left to spend on themselves and when PJ moved out abruptly this week I guess it was confirmation that by taking apart what we built they all might have a chance. That if we all remain here nothing is ever going to change.
I don't need a safety net THAT big. The one I have works just fine.
We bought a house shortly after New Years. A beautiful little new house up in the woods. Far off the beaten path but oddly closer to everything we need to get to. No longer will I have to go venture down the big scary highway for over an hour to grocery shop. No longer will I have to ask four times what they said instead of the usual two because the wind is roaring in my ears.
There's no private beach. No driver. No support network in the new house. It's all ours and we'll either finish ourselves off or...thrive, maybe. Only Ben, Lochlan, the children and myself will live there.
Caleb will be fine, I hope. I realize I may have broken his heart along with his patience but it was necessary. The pressure he was putting on me was so tremendous and so I just kept planning and planning and not telling him anything and then I chickened out altogether and told him in front of the facilitator as we sat for our quarterly meeting as a blended family.
The look on his face.
Further confirmation that this is the right step.
The children are very excited. And we don't need to live within Caleb's means. We did not earn them.
(Can you tell I'm inwardly freaking the fuck out over his reaction? Or lack of one? I couldn't tell him or he would have prevented me from leaving and I have to go. I can't stay here anymore. He's crushing me.)
We want normalcy.
Well, as much normalcy as a nuclear polyandrous family can have, that is. Lochlan is very happy. He's so freaking happy. There's a lot of talk that he did his magical brainwashing and I'm just a puppet. This is not true. It just isn't so stop. You're going to hear different all through this but it isn't him, it's me.
I'm going to escape the Devil with twenty days to spare.
I'm going to keep looking after my boys, no matter what, just more like in the way we used to when I had the castle. If they don't visit me every single day there will be hell to pay, but it isn't anything like the hell we're in right now.
Batman and his amazing team of miracle workers helped orchestrate this. I do apologize for pretending we were on the outs but I had to in order to keep Caleb in the dark. At no time did I choose Caleb over Batman. Neither one is mine to keep but at least Batman has marginally more self-control and a better view of the big picture.
Caleb has tunnel vision and at the end of the tunnel is me.
I'm not his vision, for fucks sakes and I play him thinking there will be no repercussions. There are always repercussions. I just don't know what they are yet but as bad as things will be with him, they will be better for everyone else.
It'll work. You'll see.
Swim out on a sea of faces,
The tide of the human races,
An answer now is what I need.
See it in a new sun rising
See it break on your horizon
Oh, come on love, stay with me
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Grifters by choice.
Today I....
I....disbanded a whole commune.
By myself.
No, that's a lie. I've had a lot of help. A lot of help finding homes, collateral, spending money, protection, support and all sorts of other things because this was (IS) bigger than just a move. This was like brain surgery. This...was really hard, I've been working at it for months.
It was necessary. It was...time?
I'll talk more about it once I find all my stuff. Namely the power cord for my macbook.
The lesson to take away?
Never con a con artist, for she learned from the very best.
(I'd write more but Ben comes home tonight and I need to go find a pretty dress and tidy up and make sure I've got something ready for him to eat right away. He's always starving after a flight. Too nervous to eat in the air.
He'll smell like airplane fuel. I like that part. It means he's tangible again.)
I....disbanded a whole commune.
By myself.
No, that's a lie. I've had a lot of help. A lot of help finding homes, collateral, spending money, protection, support and all sorts of other things because this was (IS) bigger than just a move. This was like brain surgery. This...was really hard, I've been working at it for months.
It was necessary. It was...time?
I'll talk more about it once I find all my stuff. Namely the power cord for my macbook.
The lesson to take away?
Never con a con artist, for she learned from the very best.
(I'd write more but Ben comes home tonight and I need to go find a pretty dress and tidy up and make sure I've got something ready for him to eat right away. He's always starving after a flight. Too nervous to eat in the air.
He'll smell like airplane fuel. I like that part. It means he's tangible again.)
Wednesday, 6 February 2013
My fault.
Okay, then.
This morning the boys are singing Heartbreaker. En masse. Daniel's got the falsetto. I'm kind of worried about this bunch now. They know too many awesome eighties songs in full.
Oh, wait.
I did this to them, didn't I?
Hahahahaha.
This morning the boys are singing Heartbreaker. En masse. Daniel's got the falsetto. I'm kind of worried about this bunch now. They know too many awesome eighties songs in full.
Oh, wait.
I did this to them, didn't I?
Hahahahaha.
Your love has set my soul on fire, burning out of control
You taught me the ways of desire, now it's taking its toll
You're the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasy
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around with me
You're a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don't you mess around
No no no
Tuesday, 5 February 2013
Monday, 4 February 2013
On moving heaven.
Ben didn't know I was coming to see him and so when I was shown into the reading room, as they call it, he was standing in front of a shelf trying to choose a book. I walked up behind him and stood there peeking out around his right side as he picked up Hemingway and then Brown and then finally pulled out a Lee Child book, a Jack Reacher novel to be exact and I waited until he was a page or two in and just starting to turn on his heel to take the book with him when I said,
I hear Mr. Reacher is only an inch or two taller than you are.
He spun around far too quickly for someone so large and dropped the book on the floor.
My first thought is What the fuck, beard?
My second was He is fat. I love it.
My third I forgot because he pulled me right off the floor and up into his arms and CRUSHED me like a little fucking bug but it was fine because that hug lasted something like twenty-five minutes and only when they came and got us did he finally let go.
As far as I know the book is still on the floor.
So Ben is sober, fifteen pounds heavier and seriously unshaven. His hair is still short though and freshly trimmed. I guess they have a barber but he said it's cold outside and he's doing a lot of walking so he grew a beard. There is snow here, I might grow a beard too.
He told me not to grow a beard.
The more he talked to me in that sweet only-for-Bridget way he has of addressing me the more my resolve dissolved and the less stoic I became. It was hard to remain angry. It was hard to keep my distance and hard to talk about things like how our plans are coming along at home when all I really wanted to do was stay in his arms and let the world disappear.
I'm still here. I can't leave. I don't want to go home without Ben so I'm trying to move heaven and earth to have him moved closer to home or something. I need a little luck now. All these resources at my disposal, I'm finally going to utilize a few of them to get what I want, which is a little help in keeping the promises Ben made to me because he had a hard time keeping them himself. I can manage it. I promise.
I might be tougher than I look after all.
I hear Mr. Reacher is only an inch or two taller than you are.
He spun around far too quickly for someone so large and dropped the book on the floor.
My first thought is What the fuck, beard?
My second was He is fat. I love it.
My third I forgot because he pulled me right off the floor and up into his arms and CRUSHED me like a little fucking bug but it was fine because that hug lasted something like twenty-five minutes and only when they came and got us did he finally let go.
As far as I know the book is still on the floor.
So Ben is sober, fifteen pounds heavier and seriously unshaven. His hair is still short though and freshly trimmed. I guess they have a barber but he said it's cold outside and he's doing a lot of walking so he grew a beard. There is snow here, I might grow a beard too.
He told me not to grow a beard.
The more he talked to me in that sweet only-for-Bridget way he has of addressing me the more my resolve dissolved and the less stoic I became. It was hard to remain angry. It was hard to keep my distance and hard to talk about things like how our plans are coming along at home when all I really wanted to do was stay in his arms and let the world disappear.
I'm still here. I can't leave. I don't want to go home without Ben so I'm trying to move heaven and earth to have him moved closer to home or something. I need a little luck now. All these resources at my disposal, I'm finally going to utilize a few of them to get what I want, which is a little help in keeping the promises Ben made to me because he had a hard time keeping them himself. I can manage it. I promise.
I might be tougher than I look after all.
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Inner pedagogue.
There are things I don't tell you as I narrate life in twenty-minute or four-minute or twenty-four-hour increments here. Just because I'm good at recounting (or is that recanting?) conversations form thirty years ago doesn't mean I'm necessarily good at anything else.
So while I sit here waiting for the plane, let me talk about some stuff that maybe isn't so relevant, exactly.
(I'm on my way to see Ben.)
Because he won't talk to me over the phone and he's not in a position to come see me, I'm going to see him. Thank you to Batman, who once again intercedes when he sees that everything is wrong and everything isn't going to get better on its own. I don't want to go right now. I'm fighting the flu. Things are understandably good with Lochlan and August, strained with PJ and Caleb and...nonexistent with Benjamin.
Batman told me I was fearless as I slammed around the room throwing things in a bag, extracting promises that I can fly home first thing in the morning, telling him he just can't keep barging in and changing everything in my life. He stood with his hands in his pockets admiring my tenacity and complimenting my action. He said I was so annoying. He said I looked pretty when I cried.
At that point I knew for sure he was full of shit, for when I cry all the color pours out of my eyes and runs away and I flush like a little baby tomato. It isn't pretty. It's saturated misery. I shrivel up and blow away. And the worst part is? Tears are sort of the beginning of every emotion now. From joy to surprise to frustration to helplessness to love.
So fuck it. That's not fucking pretty. That's just...dumb.
But I packed and I sat in the passenger seat of Batman's car and I said goodbye to Lochlan for the fifteenth time, and Batman pressed the button and put my window up too soon and Lochlan turned away because he works for Batman now and what are you going to do? And we drove away and now here we are and I'm sitting here thinking Huh, I should write in my blog.
But all I can think about is to point out that the only hobby I have left is writing. Which is also work but I didn't tell you I am painting again because it's probably a phase. Or how much I still love collecting meaningless and meaningful things, only so long as the meaningful things are very big (hearts and loyalty and forevers) and the meaningless things are very small (keys and sea glass and....cake) and that I really really am not feeling well or brave enough today to go anywhere at all.
I'm not brave. I'm afraid.
But I'm doing it anyway.
Okay so maybe I am brave.
And now I gotta go.
So while I sit here waiting for the plane, let me talk about some stuff that maybe isn't so relevant, exactly.
(I'm on my way to see Ben.)
Because he won't talk to me over the phone and he's not in a position to come see me, I'm going to see him. Thank you to Batman, who once again intercedes when he sees that everything is wrong and everything isn't going to get better on its own. I don't want to go right now. I'm fighting the flu. Things are understandably good with Lochlan and August, strained with PJ and Caleb and...nonexistent with Benjamin.
Batman told me I was fearless as I slammed around the room throwing things in a bag, extracting promises that I can fly home first thing in the morning, telling him he just can't keep barging in and changing everything in my life. He stood with his hands in his pockets admiring my tenacity and complimenting my action. He said I was so annoying. He said I looked pretty when I cried.
At that point I knew for sure he was full of shit, for when I cry all the color pours out of my eyes and runs away and I flush like a little baby tomato. It isn't pretty. It's saturated misery. I shrivel up and blow away. And the worst part is? Tears are sort of the beginning of every emotion now. From joy to surprise to frustration to helplessness to love.
So fuck it. That's not fucking pretty. That's just...dumb.
But I packed and I sat in the passenger seat of Batman's car and I said goodbye to Lochlan for the fifteenth time, and Batman pressed the button and put my window up too soon and Lochlan turned away because he works for Batman now and what are you going to do? And we drove away and now here we are and I'm sitting here thinking Huh, I should write in my blog.
But all I can think about is to point out that the only hobby I have left is writing. Which is also work but I didn't tell you I am painting again because it's probably a phase. Or how much I still love collecting meaningless and meaningful things, only so long as the meaningful things are very big (hearts and loyalty and forevers) and the meaningless things are very small (keys and sea glass and....cake) and that I really really am not feeling well or brave enough today to go anywhere at all.
I'm not brave. I'm afraid.
But I'm doing it anyway.
Okay so maybe I am brave.
And now I gotta go.
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Stanley Park, possibly my favorite place in the world.
I found a really cool shell today at Third Beach. B for Bridget!
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