Did you ever have a day where you (or life, or the world, or whatever) just didn’t quite load properly, no matter how you tried? Perhaps I’m taking the computer analogy too far – the day was good (ostensibly) but I didn’t load right this morning, and have felt pixellated all day (okay, now I’ve really gone too far…roll with it, willya?).
I feel like I’ve barely seen this place. There’s dust on the mantelpiece and the spiders have started moving into the corners where I used to sit and chat with friends. The cushions are all cold, with only the indented memories of where presences once sat and warmed the room with light and laughter and happiness. I miss this blog and the fun, chatty place it used to be. I want it back.
OctPoWriMo is probably mostly responsible, though not ‘to blame’ or ‘at fault’ because actually it’s been a huge amount of fun, and very challenging and has…okay, no, it hasn’t particularly stretched me as a poet – it’s given me a chance to indulge and pour out my little soul over at the Well Tempered Bards each day this month. There have been SUCH a variety of poems, some using the prompts but most stemming from things which have happened In Real, and which I’ve needed to somehow get out, and instead of coming here and rambling on (as is my wont) I’ve gussied them up and turned them into poetry, which (for the most part) has been very well received by a few loyal commenters. Which is nice. I like meeting new people, and I especially like it when new people STICK. I hope to get them over here soon.
HOWEVER (aren’t you supposed to not start sentences like that? Hang the rules. I’ll do as I please and worry about it later) there’s a special and important (and more importantly, FUN) post going up at Sisterwives, which you should read (and I will link properly once it’s live), there’s the fourth section of the Jessica story to share with you, then there’s the fifth part, and frankly I just want to do a bit of writing here, and a bit of a de-frag, and see what tumbles out into the aether for you to pay heed to or ignore completely (as is your wont).
Why? Because I have a virus and I feel like someone unpicked the edges of my mind and half the stuffing fell out.
I don’t plan to turn this into ten things of whine, but it’s been a very weird couple of days, and I totally blame Niece and Neff for the bug and accompanying zoned-out-ness I’m experiencing. Course, it might also have to do with the clocks in England having changed, and the presence of some incredibly WEIRD dreams for the past two nights running, in which I was at war, and woke up neither rested nor peaceful, but pretty well freaked out and haunted by bloodthirsty memories. Callooh! Callay!
Onwards and Upwards, dear ones (or at least, further up and further in, for I cannot guarantee that any of this will be lined with silver so much as it might be outlined in chalk or silly string).
I learned today that trust means that I don’t have to fret when a change in priorities means I’m left behind. It just means that other stuff takes precedent right now, and that hopefully things will change in the future.
I (finally) finished the next ‘Considerings’ post for #KickCancersAss, which should be up on Thursday, and to which I will link you. The recipient was very pleased, and so I am happy.
I’m still annoyed at the US post, because reasons. Two reasons, as yet undelivered.
I don’t want to start another sentence with ‘I’, but am at a loss how to begin this one without it.
There is a story in one of the Gerald Durrell books – one of the Corfu trilogy (I forget which, but they document his time living on Corfu as a child, and all the adventures and madness and glorious, technicolour nature he encountered there) – about The Rose-Beetle Man, who sold (amongst other items) rose-beetles, tied on strings, to small children. The Rose-Beetle man was dumb, but communicated through gestures and nasal utterances, and was able to communicate sufficiently to indicate that the beetles were meant to be aeroplanes. Quite what stretch of the imagination is required for a bug on a string to be an aeroplane I don’t know, because as far as I recall, nobody ever tried flying an aeroplane on a string, but there you go (..I digress). ANYWAY – one of the things the man would do is take his bundle of bugs-on-strings and whirl them, so that they all took off into flight and whirred around his head like clockwork, in futile circles until they settled again. Today my thoughts have felt a little like that, and it’s been a constant fight to keep track of them long enough to put one into words. Even in speech (which has been mostly incoherent and a lot of effort). It’s been an incredibly frustrating and quiet sort of day as a result.
In addition, the thoughts got to the stage earlier (pre-nap) where it felt as though I had somehow lost my grasp of the threads, and all of the thoughts were flying away in different directions, threads trailing behind them in the overcast sky, as I leaped and stumbled and scrambled to try to retrieve them and make sense of anything, whilst my body felt entirely too weary to be scrambling anywhere, and just wanted all the thoughts to fly off into the world and leave me to curl up un-beset by words (or freaky dreams) and just…be.
Meantime the darker shelves of my thoughts are filled with choices which aren’t taken, presences who don’t seem to be…well, present…, and the pressing desire to write more, and more meaningfully, without really knowing what about. Things are brewing. At least two of them are important. But for now, I think the simple fact that YOU have chosen to be here, and to read to this point, speaks volumes (that, or to madness, or to your persistence in trying to figure out if I ever had a point), so thank you. I appreciate it; and if I leave the light on and a plate of cookies on the table, perhaps you’ll take a seat in one of these forlorn chairs and stop for a chat, and see if we can’t sparkle the place up a bit.
I think the lights in here work with conversation and belief that they matter (much like fairies, who die when you say you don’t believe – so does the community I’ve worked hard to build up around here – I feel like I’ve been neglectful and silent and my ‘fairies’ are sitting glumly, fading around the edges and wondering if they’re still important.) and I could do with more light in my life.
Because apparently, somehow, this space is important. Whether it’s in terms of the people or the connectivity or simply a place to watch and learn from each other (cos believe me, I learn from you as much as any of you ever say you learn from or are inspired by me) and I LIKE IT. And I miss it.
SO *claps hands really fast* I believe.
I hope you do, too.