Urples. Life is so life-like. I can’t get over how much living is like life?!?! I mean who would thunk?
Ah, listen to the bitching and moaning. Me in a nut shell. Christina likes to complain. Cos then it’s not my fault. It’s the fault of life! The fault of this stupid society. The fault of these stoopid peeple! But no it’s all up to me. & that’s the kicker, ain’t it? It’s all up to me.
What a scary thought! I mean, what have I ever done [to deserve this]? Some people are born with an inner drive that compels them forward. I was born with an inner complacency. What the heck, it’s gotten me this far. So today I struggle with this aspect of my nature, struggling to hurdle this tendency to float, to get by, to do the bare minimum.
This entry has been like pulling teeth. I have been sitting here with a blank ‘write post’ page & the yawning infinite depths of the intarweb one ctrl-t away, struggling back and forth. Yup, day 8 of NaBloPoMo (‘oh, that’ll be easy!’, I said on October 29th) and I’m hitting the proverbial wall. Part of it is that the item I’d planned to post about is still unformed and slightly too personal. Coming up with default entry has tapped me out (+ I wrote two articles at work, so my writing cells are temporarily depleted).
Words are elusive.
Today I filled the sink with soapy water and set Lucas on top of a stool so that he could ‘wash’ dishes. I filled the sink with his toy pots and pans and assorted items. He played happily for almost a half of an hour, dribbling water from one container to another, reaching into to the bubble laden water, delighted by each suprise that he pulled out with exploring fingers, splashing contentedly, dripping water all over his front. His play mimics our day-to-day chores. He delights, and we complain and feel overwhelmed. I need to revive the childish spirit of play in my life. That is what I want to grasp again — the freedom of being ennervated by life, by the mundane.
Today for one moment I felt it. I was crouched on the ground picking up splashes from sink adventures and he climbed on me, sitting high on my back, so that when I stood his arms were around my neck and his legs under my arms and then the spirit grabbed me & I ran back and forth, galloping through the house, losing myself in play for a few minutes til some reminder of my imperfections slowed me down and I put Lucas back down on the ground and returned.
Exhaustion. Ennui. & some other word that starts with ‘e’.
Urples. Life is so life-like. I can’t get over how much living is like life?!?! I mean who would thunk?
Ah, listen to the bitching and moaning. Me in a nut shell. Christina likes to complain. Cos then it’s not my fault. It’s the fault of life! The fault of this stupid society. The fault of these stoopid peeple! But no it’s all up to me. & that’s the kicker, ain’t it? It’s all up to me.
What a scary thought! I mean, what have I ever done [to deserve this]? Some people are born with an inner drive that compels them forward. I was born with an inner complacency. What the heck, it’s gotten me this far. So today I struggle with this aspect of my nature, struggling to hurdle this tendency to float, to get by, to do the bare minimum.
This entry has been like pulling teeth. I have been sitting here with a blank ‘write post’ page & the yawning infinite depths of the intarweb one ctrl-t away, struggling back and forth. Yup, day 8 of NaBloPoMo (‘oh, that’ll be easy!’, I said on October 29th) and I’m hitting the proverbial wall. Part of it is that the item I’d planned to post about is still unformed and slightly too personal. Coming up with default entry has tapped me out (+ I wrote two articles at work, so my writing cells are temporarily depleted).
Words are elusive.
Today I filled the sink with soapy water and set Lucas on top of a stool so that he could ‘wash’ dishes. I filled the sink with his toy pots and pans and assorted items. He played happily for almost a half of an hour, dribbling water from one container to another, reaching into to the bubble laden water, delighted by each suprise that he pulled out with exploring fingers, splashing contentedly, dripping water all over his front. His play mimics our day-to-day chores. He delights, and we complain and feel overwhelmed. I need to revive the childish spirit of play in my life. That is what I want to grasp again — the freedom of being ennervated by life, by the mundane.
Today for one moment I felt it. I was crouched on the ground picking up splashes from sink adventures and he climbed on me, sitting high on my back, so that when I stood his arms were around my neck and his legs under my arms and then the spirit grabbed me & I ran back and forth, galloping through the house, losing myself in play for a few minutes til some reminder of my imperfections slowed me down and I put Lucas back down on the ground and returned.