These guys acted like I was totally w-e-i-r-d for wanting to take their picture. “Because you hardly ever see escalators being repaired. They’re either going or stopped.”
They disappeared me and I took a picture. To disappear me is to pretend like I am not there, or here, or wherever I might be. It’s okay. They were super-busy with the repair and so I totally understood why they had to kind of roll their eyes.
Oh, yeah – the whole breaking up with my blog. Man, I am SO tired of this thing. SOOOOO tired of it. But, I have successfully – as an adult – drawn a picture everyday for a year. Kids draw pictures everyday for a year all the time. They don’t really think about it or declare it though. They just like drawing.
Drawing actually saves my ass on a pretty regular basis. Besides, the LAST thing I want to be is one of those awful forgotten blogs that are out there. I think maybe I’ll start reading them, the ones that go strong for a little while – sometimes even almost a year and then *wham* stop. Usually not with the nice little declaration of enough-is-enough that I made, um…yeah, yesterday.
Or rather day before yesterday. Yesterday, the 23rd of June, 2010 – um, yeah: erasing it. But, not so much – because just when I think I can’t get much lower, I am weeping at the Varick Chapel, A.M.E. and then finding myself sort of muttering:
“Um, actually – I don’t think I can accept Jesus into my heart today. Um…yeah, today is NOT good for that.”
See, the issue is not between me and some divine whomever.
Folks, totally good with all that. Reverent, mindful, try-to-be-hopeful. I don’t go to church ’cause – um, yeah, people go to church. It’s hard to explain to people that all I need is for them to be with me for a minute. I don’t need small talking and token favors. Or simpering. Or “funny stories about when you’re in the ‘yucky’ place.” –
I think I mostly need hugs. Kids are good for hugs. Chickens? Not so much.
However, they make excellent captains (capt. hens!) –
So, in conclusion:
Man, the one good thing about the worst days ever is that they eventually end.
And then there is some new worst day ever just waiting for you.
I could stay up all night and crochet or draw or actually try to write something that isn’t totally self absorbed. See, the issue is that we do see ourselves as we are reflected in the eyes of our appraisers…and when you have very few people with whom you are not seen as just some unfathomably flawed wide-eyed girl who is too smart to have so many issues. And someone has to tell me the truth of myself as I know it. The kids and I have a nice little bit of easiness happening right now. But, I cannot and will not look to the kids as affirmations of my worth as human. Grown-ups, we have to save ourselves.
(I feel like ghosts are more reliable than the people they were walking and talking.)
So, why do I keep looking to be saved?
Well, because sometimes we can only save ourselves so much.
In fact, I am – in a great many arenas – a total idiot. The result of being pretty much totally self-taught and being a fairly lackadaisical and ill-prepared teacher. The upside is that I feel really confident that – if I don’t just hit some final wall and retreat to Threadville – apparently tatting is quite the thing in convalescent centers. Yay.
Whatever…I know I will be able to at least have a fighting chance of teaching my children well the things that actually matter in this world…still sort of figuring out that, but I think it has to do needing someone in the middle of the night and having someone there, and with clouds and weather and other things that we can’t control AT ALL (excepting the long-term implications of us completely fucking up our atmospheric conditions) – (but, this is not a global warming blog.)
I guess sometimes making an ass out yourself
and being able to admit you screwed-up is important, too.
And trying to find some small stupid salvation wherever you can.
And also, I guess, doing what you say you’re going to do. But, also knowing that no person, thing, or concept is ever worth the destruction of the things that make a person themselves…
There are some people who think I am just a straight-up nut. I’m not. I am just really scrambling right now.
I just don’t want to be sad. People look so damn…happy.
Yeah, actually most people look pretty happy.
I felt extremely sad and wanted to see what I looked like when I looked sad. Not look-in-the-mirror-look-I’m-sad look like, but quick-take-a-picture looked like.
I look prettier sad than happy. That is fucked up.
Who made that the way? Soooo, not worth it.
I want to be happy.
Even if I look insane when I am happy.
I’m tired. I just go on and on here. Well, who cares? The jury is in that is only a very few people actually care what happens here, and two of whom are barely even aware that their mom seems to be a total frickin’ weird-o.
I am so tired.
But, I guess I’m okay. I lost the drawing for day before yesterday.
It was, of course, a spool of thread.