Sunday, May 1, 2011

Journal 7--Solitude

I'm tired today.
Of dealing with banks, the car people, co-workers, and everyone else who populates
this over crowded world.

I've wanted to be someone else lately. Not that I don't appreciate who I am, or want to be me, but lately I've wondered--hey, when did I get so serious? So weighted down, worrying about everything I can. My family, the rising cost of EVERYTHING, my LDR, my sore foot, the future, the present.

But to look at me and talk with me, this is probably not the impression people get. I keep it locked down when I'm outside. When I'm running the thoughts (I can almost see them) seem to spiral above my head, they 'hover' for lack of a better word, just around me, a little cloud. But they are out of me in those moments. Same with when I am reading, a good book, a good blog, a writer who is opening up right into the dusty corners.

If all my blog posts were like my emails to some of my closest friends (and here I do admit that I have a select list of friends that I email, especially L, who, like me, is tied to a desk during the day and has the talent of being able to put a sentiment in a matter of a couple of lines. No easy task). But most of my close friends of late feel far away. They can't really do anything for me, and I don't really need them to. The email is a great favourite of mine in terms of communicating; it allows me to think about what I am writing, and gives me greater freedom of the 'when/where' of communicating. Truth, I feel very invisible right now, of my own volition. I don't feel the need to be seen. Or talked to. But I do like it when friends drop a line.

I had dinner with a group of people last night, something else I've avoided for the last six weeks or so. I have to attend a shower today. I say 'have to'. Yes. I have to, for the six-hundredth-million time, paste a smile on my face and be happy for someone else. And I AM happy for them. I was whining to my sister on Friday night at her place, after her kids were in bed and we were a couple of glasses in, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Why does the Misery not get divided up evenly? And the Misery picks a place to perch like a crow on a lamp post, and seems to roost there. Not letting up.

We can talk all we want about positive thinking (I'm TRYING), about changing our lives one minutae at a time (the change is usually THROWN at me, in a 'here-hold-this!' kind of fashion, where I'm left with what seems like bad luck at the worst moment), and we can boldly assume that, as always, WE are in control, guiding this life of ours into port, not hitting any icebergs. But, as I need to be reminded time and again--we don't. The part where I go .."But why..?" is the part when I make comparisons to others (God help me). Why do THEY never have to make their own luck? How come THEY get everything on a silver platter, offered to them at the exact right time, while my perception of life is that it's maybe 30% free will, what you do, and 70% everything else--what calamities choose to ensue, to alight on that lamp post and then fly overhead and sh*t all over your life, when you least expect it. Except that life has taught you to never not expect it, when it plays itself over again and again.

I am highly, highly imperfect. I strive to do my running, I try not to indulge in too much white wine, I want to get up early and like it, I want to create a budget, stick to it, and feel good about it. I want to care more about clothes (oh f*ck it I CAN'T) but I want to care more about everything, or maybe less, maybe more focussed caring. I want to keep up my church-going every week, I want to make life for my parents easier, I want all the special people in my life, the ones who've suffered so much bad luck, to get things without having to ask for them, I want wonderful things to find their way to these people.

Today, as I drink my morning coffee and offer up gratitude for Sunday monring, an imperfect day outside, weather-wise, but I'm here to bear witness to it. I'm here to lift the coffee cup to my lips and sip it. I'm getting ready to go outside and run in about half an hour. Maybe during my run I will solve this misery-equation and have an easier time 'being happy' this afternoon.

As the crow flies....

No comments:

Post a Comment