9:57am Writing Practice 58° Boise
I've been writing in my notebook by hand lately. It's soothing the write with a pen on paper when I feel empty and lost like I've been for the past few months. I'm not at all sure where this stage is coming from but it's beginning to feel like a transition and I'm ready for it.
I want to move. I want to pack up half my stuff, ditch the other half and store what's left while I take off in my car. I spent weeks shopping for a new car only to put over $700 into Sybil for a new fuel pump, yet again. This one ought to work though. But still, she's no match for the ambitions I'm feeling for travel ... or maybe it's running away that I want to do. I've been here in this house for way longer than I ever believed possible and still I haven't created anything solid. Although I've had a stable place to hole up while the tempest rages around me and that's a blessing I want to acknowledge. In a way, I feel that I'm about to shed my skin and what will emerge is still unknown.
I'm unraveling. Thread by thread my life is loosening and fraying at the edges. I'm slowly falling apart, slow enough for me to watch it all with very little interest. Rather than try to stop it, I wonder if I should embrace it and step into it, see what will happen next? I have an online writing class I've signed up for, Pam is doing it with me. I'll use that and see where it takes me. Whatever comes, I'm cool with it. I'll begin the first lesson later today. Maybe I'll go to the studio and write. I haven't been over there hardly at all in a month.
Besides, I need to put all of Donna's photos on a CD and mail it to her. I've hardly heard a word from her since I did that session. None of them have thanked me in any way or even acknowledged my efforts at all. Last night Donna and I had a few messages back and forth about it and I said I could tell that none of them liked the pictures and she protested, asked how I knew. What had happened, she wanted to know. I said nothing had happened and that was the point. None of them had liked or commented on any of the photos I had posted of their session. Not one. She sent a message this morning saying she wasn't surprised, that was just how they all are. Like that's acceptable. What it is is rude. When someone goes out of their way to give a gift that big and asks for nothing in return but a donation, the least they can give back is some appreciation. Unless they didn't like the pictures, in which case, silence is at least understandable.
But hey, I'll fix it. I'll put those edited photos on a CD and mail it off and that will be that for Donna and her stuffy family. I'm ready to let her go again, we have nothing in common and our personalities don't mesh at all. But then, I don't mesh with anyone these days so I know it's not her fault. But still, I'm ready to back off. We've been reacquainted for over a year and nothing is coming of it. What little past we had has been hashed over and I'm ready to be finished with it. There's nothing there to go forward with. Just as well leave it and move on. With love, of course. As much love as I can muster these days, anyway.
So off to the studio today. I'll pay my bills and go to the bank after breakfast and then go to the studio and see how that feels. I can leave the back door open for the cats or get Rocky in and let Milo stay out. I'll let them both out this evening so they can play and be free. Poor Rocky, I just can't stand to leave him out alone when I'm gone. He's the one thing I can actually feel love for right now. I want him to be safe.
OK, well that's it for this Monday Monday ... 131 weeks and still counting. I got an idea in a dream last week that I would be 89½ when I died. That would be October 2042, 26½ years from now. That's a long time to be sad and lost, so I hope this transition works to get me right side up again in some form. I've got work to do, if I can ever get to it.
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