These Are the Days of Miracle and Wonder

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We made it to the daffodils blooming. 

The first signs of the end of winter for me are the emergence of daffodils, dogwoods, and other early flowering trees. There’s something comforting about the signs of spring. A rebirth of sorts. 

Daffodils have been my favorite spring flowers for most of my adult life. All of the places that I have lived since C and I got married have had daffodils growing in the yard, either already there or we planted some.

When my kids were little, I would take them to the botanic gardens when there was a whole meadow of flowers blooming. It’s called Daffodil Hill. I have fond memories of warm spring days hanging out amongst the flowers with babies and toddlers.

Winter is my least favorite season. I don’t like the cold. I don’t like it when it gets dark so early in the evening. 

It was the start of daylight savings time this weekend, we are springing forward. 

The daffodils have been blooming for a couple of weeks now. The saucer magnolias are blooming, and the dogwoods as well.

The cycle of the seasons continues. The earth is being reborn.

Nature is healing. 

Where do we go from here, the planet is a gunboat in a sea of fear

 

My therapist told me I needed to start journaling again, so here we go.

I wrote something today for the first time in over a month. My brain hasn’t been cooperating and I haven’t really cared enough to try harder. It is hard to get motivated to do anything when it is currently hotter than the surface of the sun outside, especially when the air conditioner can hardly keep up.

 

I started keeping up with current events again, although that might prove to have been a mistake. I think I would rather have the anxiety associated with knowing rather than the anxiety I get from not knowing. It doesn’t help that we are fast approaching Gilead levels of fuckery here and I fear that will get much worse before it gets any better.

This really isn’t making me feel any better. Meh.

Opening old wounds…

The Universe has seen fit to reopen some wounds I had once thought were healed.

Turns out, not so fucking much.

 

There is something especially cruel about people who surface in your life just to throw things into chaos.

Even if these people were once close to you. Even if these people are related to you. Even if they gave birth to you.

Hurt people hurt people, and objectively this is something that I do know.

A better person than me would not feel hurt, just sympathy, But I am not a better person, and I fear that I might not be able to continue handling all this hurt gracefully.

 

One day this might all come spilling out and Bob help whoever might be its path.

 

One of the reasons I have hesitated to write down my thoughts where someone might read them is that they are largely very dark and morbid. More so now with the aforementioned resurfaced chaos.

 

I just want to live and be happy. Why is that so much to ask?

When do I stop being punished for the sins of others?

No, I do not in fact want to build a snowman.

now with 200% more existential dread and winged liner

It’s day four of the winter weather apocalypse 2021, which seems as good a time as any to pick up and return to putting down some words here. All it took for me to get back on the horse was…a foot of snow?

It would beat the internal mental flogging I have been giving myself for the past few weeks for not writing. Is writing about writing about being depressed therapeutic?

could this be my new default state?

Me to me: 

Gee, you tried to start a thing writing and borked it up in less than a week. Great job, loser. 

 

So that’s how it’s going for me lately. I feel like there is going to be a lot of collective trauma associated with 2020 and apparently 2021 as well.

I do worry about being able to handle people again once I inevitably go back to working from my actual office. I can’t believe that in the before times, we just let people stand all in our personal space and breathe on us. This six feet of social distancing is the vibe.

 

My entire personality now is anxiety, online shopping, and bingeing makeup videos on YouTube. Sometimes these are related, sometimes they aren’t.

If any part of life ever returns to normal and going places where people are is a thing again, I know how to make myself look like a fucking goddess.

 

These are the things I tell myself now to keep from going completely over the edge.

 

 

 

PS: I wanted to revive my old LJ goth girl mood icons.

Mood: trapped inside the polar vortex

And just like that it’s over. We tend to our wounded, we count our dead.

My baby who isn’t a baby anymore is the one who turned me on to Hamilton a few years ago as I am outdated as always when it comes to most popular culture. It feels fitting for the moment.

 

A few summers ago the two of us caught the last performance at the Orpheum and it was a cool bonding experience.

 

 

An expensive, cool bonding experience thanks to what turned out to be a $40 parking lot fee but it was worth it to be in a lot directly across from the theater and well lit to boot. Safety first and all that, at least when my kid is with me.

 

 

Anyway. I digress.

 

I had some FEELINGS watching Kamala Harris take the oath for Vice President. And Uncle Joe too. I know today is mostly for show, mostly symbolic but right now I welcome that. Not that normal is best, but after the past year, it is better.  I’m trying to convince myself that this is the start of things turning around. Life, the Universe, and Everything will get better now, even if I can’t quite put my finger on what better means these days.

 

 

Even knowing that this is mostly decorative there is a strong sense of relief that is tangible now that the official bit has happened. Not relief that everything is going to be okay now because it isn’t that simple.

 

But because the would-be fascist with a bad shade match is being relegated to Florida Man and if there is any justice in the world, a mountain of criminal charges.

I can dream.

 

Sidenote: watching some more of the pomp and circumstance (on mute because that’s how I roll now) and Vice President Harris just climbed the Capitol steps in some bitchin’ black heels. I stan, as the kids on Twitter say.

 

Future me is going to gag over the run-ons here but present me is just putting down words as they come into my head.

Drove downtown in the rain, 9:30 on a Tuesday night

Yeah, I am still doing that thing with the song lyrics. No, I won’t be more original.

 

I still have no idea what I am doing here. Mostly talking to myself, trying to sort my thoughts out. Anything else is collateral damage.

I haven’t decided if I am going to tell anyone about this or not.

 

If you are reading this, then I guess I did.

 

I have kept this domain for years with the intention of doing my journaling here. More years than I care to admit if I am being honest.

I have written many many things during those years but was never able to bring myself to share them. Honestly, that’s probably best for everyone.

 

Thanks to the whole global pandemic, the fact that I have basically been inside since March 2020, and the fact that my former therapist retired, I am finally putting words here because if I don’t put them somewhere besides my head I might lose what little sanity I have left.

 

So, where am I, where have I been?

 

It’s been a considerable number of years since LiveJournal and I am not much of the same person I was then. I went back to college, got a degree, got a job, all that fun grownup stuff.

Technically I went from being a mommy blogger to being a basketball blogger, and the irony there is not lost on me.

 

Too many things have been lost to recount, or that I want to recount. Lost my dad, lost our house, lost my mom. Lost friends and loved ones.

 

It probably seems like it has been too long and I should have long been done grieving these things, but I am not. Maybe I won’t ever be.

It’ll be ten years this year since I lost my dad, and let me tell you that garbage about how it gets easier is a damn lie. Sometimes it feels harder than ever.

 

“Begin at the beginning,”, the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop”

 

all-gone-to-look-for-america

 

Let’s try this again, shall we?

 

I had a blog once before, but I forgot to feed and water it, and it died. Or maybe that was my Neopet, I can never keep these things straight.  Anyhow.

This is the place I am going to put the words about the things.  About the awkward and uncomfortable things, and the beautiful things, and the angry things, and the sad things. The lost things, and found things, and the ridiculous things.

I’m going to write the things that would get me disinherited if there was anyone left to do that. I’m pretty sure it’s all past the statute of limitations. Probably.

What about the thoughts you aren’t supposed to say out loud, those have to go somewhere, right, so why not put them here. It’s not like anyone is going to read it anyway.

Plus, there’s going to be cake. And crafts, because I make stuff too.  Arts and crafts of the apocalypse. Kind of has a nice ring to it I think.

Look, it's an actual fucking cake.

Look, it’s an actual fucking cake.

But I digress, as usual.

 

As Emerson once wrote, “We become what we think about all day long.”

I’m still figuring out what I’m going to become, but these days at least I have some general idea.

 

Lorem ipsum, indeed.

 


“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat. “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat. “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

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