Spring is finally looking a little more spring-like.
The spawn and I took advantage of the good weather to mission down to the library, where I found a book of Margaret Atwood short stories so I was all YAY!
On the way back we passed by an empty lot. It’s been for sale for ages so it’s pretty much over-run with weeds. But, seeing as it’s spring, those weeds include the ubiquitous vark lelies. They made a little trumpet trail of ivory through the green, and I can’t help but feel if I was still innocent, that path would have led me somewhere amazing.
I like you.
I’m fascinated by rockpools. They’re probably my favourite thing about the ocean (and I love many things about it so that puts them at the top of a long list). There’s a strange attraction to spending hours scrambling over rocks and wading through tiny pools, harassing anenomes, and trying to crush as few tiny periwinkles as possible that can keep me absorbed for hours. My dad was my patient and willing accomplice in my explorations as a child, and now I get to play his role with my own spawn.
And sometimes among the blue and pink and ivory tentacles, the crimson spines and the hallucinogenic lightshows of shells, you get to find the stars.
Like, miserable despite the good things, or happy despite the bad.
The last few weeks have been dreadful emotionally. I’ve been a wreck, contemplating giving up writing FOREVER SHE SAID, and Running Away To Join The Sideshow, and Walking Out And You Can Live In This Filth Without Me etc. This despite having family and friends who treat me way better than I deserve (yeah, I don’t get it either), having my book finally come out, and just generally going to parties and having a good time.
Now thanks to house troubles and car troubles we are so broke that I am scared to think about it, we have to move in a month (and I LOATHE moving), my dog looks like the photo alongside an article on animal abuse (flea allergy, poor Luminous Hound – I am trying everything), and we’re going to Afrikaburn with the spawn (and broke, ha, at least we have a few year’s burn experience) and then coming straight back to pack up a house….and I should be crying non-stop and generally wanting to stick my head in the oven, but instead I’m kinda okay?
I’m looking at all these shitty things and thinking, you know, I can do this, I’m not going to have a nervous breakdown, we’ll fix things, we’ll find a way to make do, tighten the belts and carry on carrying on. And I will work on this project because it’s the only way I’ll get better.
So, thanks, brain, for holding it together when I need you most.
I’ll spot you a beer some time.