I Believe In Love

As Elton John Sang. And Billy Joel's Honesty keeps me alone, in spite of the desire to share love. Because the two songs speak the truth. I believe in love, it's all I've got.... and honesty is such a lonely word. I don't want to believe everyone is so untrue, at least not because people want to be. I want to believe people are just confused by fear, fear that they empower more than love. Fear is easier. It comes with fewer responsibilities. In fact, fear allows the shirking of most responsibilities. Being afraid is an excuse for getting away with almost anything. Maybe anything.

Love comes with serious responsibilities. It requires action. Follow through. Consistency. Love requires paying attention. Love is commitment to caring, to sharing, to being honest and open and true to yourself and someone else. Love requires open eyes, an open heart, and an open mind. Scary stuff for most, so fear grows and becomes much easier to nurture. Fear takes away all the responsibilities of love. Easy, or at least easier.

Loneliness becomes comfortable. Nobody to account to. Nobody to take a shower or bath for. Nobody to care if we care about anything. Lonely is so much easier than love for the same and similar reasons fear is so much easier than love. Lonely requires no responsibility for anything. No need to keep an appointment. No need to share. The freedom to choose to do, to wear, to eat, to be anything you want to be at any given moment. That's the freedom loneliness provides.

No wonder so many people are lonely. No wonder so many people live in fear.

I'll still choose love, to live in love, and my door is open.

This is my love song to loneliness...

this is my love song to loneliness
this is my love song to fear
to the darkness of depression
to the emptiness of hopelessness
this is my love song to the pain of despair

this is my love song to loneliness
and to those who empower fear
you make choices every day
every moment you can play
any game in your mind if you choose to be aware

giving up is just a choice
silence is just an unused voice
low self esteem
is just a bad dream
that you can rise above
if you just choose to love

this is my love song to emptiness
to the hollow feeling that is fear
all the pain, all the strife
all the cruelty in life
can be powerless when it's out there

this is my lone song to loneliness
the path to overcome fear
all alone in my mind
I can choose to be kind
and create paradise for me here
if I just choose to love...

giving up is just a choice
silence is just an unused voice
low self esteem
is just a bad dream
that you can rise above
if you just choose to love

the different between
agony and ecstasy
is so clear to see
if I just choose to love...
me

And a love song to you, my precious blog family.

34. Would a mid-life crisis seem appropriate at this time? I'm stuck feeling 19. But I have grown all these layers of years on the 19 year old me. But they are but flaky scales. And beneath is still the same old insecure and anxiety-driven me. Waiting for that magical moment that was promised to me by my own, confused and hazy little mind. 

Supposedly, I only need to make friends with myself for everything to fall into place. But I know myself too well to be friends with someone like that. Because, how to be friends with someone who can't even be friends with themselves. Um..

My next lesson has arrived. 

Seems a tough and moody one. 

But those are my favourite kind of lessons. 

Though they leave me detesting myself at the end of each day. 

Oh God.. I wanna go home. 

Wherever that is.. 

Tired of feeling so much. So strongly. And for no explainable reason. 

Seems I can only feel magical and mystical when I am miserable. 

Sadness has a strange beauty and depth to it. Like the sea on a stormy day. 

Happiness doesn't do it for me. 

Wish I could be happy being sad.. 

Done With Intent

Well, well, well... seems my years of recreational reading of psychology articles has finally brought its result, where I could finally self-diagnose what the hell my problem has been all these years. The answer is, of course, very boring and trivial. All I am is a love addict.

If you read what it feels like to get high on amphetamines.. you will get the idea of what I, so cleverly, can achieve by getting constant.. chronic..painful.. illogical crushes on unavailable people.

Childhood abuse trauma. Check.

Craving attention from father but never getting it. Check.

Getting myself into abusive relationship. Check.

Finally getting myself sorted out and getting into a healthy, normal relationship...but! Not being able to be satisfied with it nor knowing how to process it properly. Check.

Drift off into a fantasy world built up on crumbs of reality just to get my next fix from. Check.

It's all very sad really.

But at least I finally know and can explain all of my stupid-ass behavior and feelings so far.

Now, I'm trying to take every step as a lesson and do my best to learn from it..but it takes so much self control that sometimes I just don't have the power to fight it.

Wow.

I got my explanation to everything. 

All I have to do now is.. QUIT.

Hm, the only time quitting wouldn't actually make me a loser. Riding this feeling gives so much meaning and inspiration though.. if only I could find a way to turn it into art. 

And then I get angry. 

Why, all these amazing feelings.. no need for sleep.. elevated energy... creative inspiration..have to be dismissed as psychological disorder. 

Sure they are painful. But they make me feel so much. Make me so inspired. Gosh. 

And then comes the crash.

The worst was last year. Everything was so trivial. So gray. Every moment felt like I was suffocating from the overwhelming, boring, thick flowing reality. 

Mundane. Mundane. Mundane.

So, so, so thankful for the mundane.

But oh-so-curious for the extraordinary. The unknown. The unavailable. 

These two people just don't get along inside my head. 

Oh, The Precious

The Blog Family. Perhaps just two as others do not want to be online anymore, at least for now. They are always welcome and there is always hope we will share words again. Hope we will create something permanent. How to bond with someone who deletes everything they create, that is the question. Fruit falls from a tree and to the tree it is gone, but fruit returns. We eat the fruit and to us it is gone, but then, more fruit grows and falls. The cycle of existence, non-existence, and back to existence again. Or is it Non-existence, existence, then back to non-existence again. Which is the permanent state? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

In the comment I just left on the previous entry, I identified with impermanence as the reality and permanence as the illusion. I suppose that correlates with my perspective that alone is reality and sharing brings an illusion of not being alone Caring brings depths and emotion to the illusion. Spending time together builds references to support the illusion. Sharing on different sensory levels brings still more memory of more tangible evidence that the illusion is real. Is it? The answer to that question is exploring a definition for alone.

Illusion or not, the sharing, the caring, the belief that we are not alone is so precious to us humans. At least it is to me, but then, I am not like anyone I know. I am probably like others in this world of almost eight billion people, but I've yet to meet anyone like me. Then I read your words and feel like you are a lot like me in some essential ways. Sister of another mother, blog family.

I keep trying to share the experience, the precious...

still, alone.

Temporary

I read some time ago of someone's experience being a third culture kid or someone that moves to different places often. "I'm temporary in everyone's permanent existence."

No matter how exciting it is to discover new places, meeting new people, tasting new dishes or experiencing new cultures, I think I'm tired of being temporary. 

The settled feeling. 

Tinnitus waking you up at 3 am must be a sign that something is off. 

I want to be positive. I try to be thankful. I see my blessings. But can't help but feel the fog setting in once again. 

I don't want change. I used to smirk at those giving 30 years of their life to one job.. City.. Whatever that is. 

And now. 

I want to grow roots. 

I don't want to be a one season plant anymore. 

It gives you a fake sense of freedom where you are excused not to make a commitment to any one job or home or community.. But each time you leave, you realize it feels like a small death to a life you will never be able to have again. 

I'm tired of dying and resurrecting. 

Drama queen much? 

Possibly. 

But I get attached easily. 

To the place. 

To the tree. 

To the stroll in a park on a sunny autumn day. 

To the bakery lady. 

To you. 

And moving once again feels like walking in iron shoes. 

I can't let him see the tears.. He has enough on his plate. 

Will I ever learn to be satisfied and thankful for my current state? Is this why this lesson keeps on repeating itself? Because I flunked once again.. 

in my reply (to your last post here)

once again my words were too many to fit into the comment box so rather than extend the babbling you inspired with this post into three or four or more comments (and trying to keep the parts in the right order), here it is here (with this introduction in case we both seek reference some time down the road when time lets us forget :)

coincidence?... so i've been away for a week or more and you find your way here after more than a year of being away (373 days) and me, sven longer (449 days), but then, who's counting? :)

and it just so happens that i paused in my daily writing two days before you posted this entry until now, a week after you posted these words, but again, except for the potential irony that i am desperately seeking something (communication, validation, appreciation, reinforcement, ego-stroking, more genuine meaningful deeper praise, comfort, caring, love, attention, and most of all distraction, or some combination of the lot) and here you are communicating and i am not even here to read and respond as immediately as i ordinarily would have had i been checking in and blogging daily as i had been for most of the last thousand years, or bakers dozen, at least...

whatever, right?... i mean, time is meaningless and i found your words moments ago so for me, they were written moments ago and i shall respond to my perception of your words because that is the best any reader wishing to communicate can do, respond to the perception of the meaning of the words a writer writes...

i am so happy to see words from you here :)

what did you say again? (laughing at the folly of my babbling and my self-soothing, however egocentric, babbling from excitement and distraction-seeking and excessive mental fatigue as i am just getting home from lunch with a friend after not sleeping at all last night so aware going on thirty hours or more now... can i find a cohesive response at this point?... well, i promise i shall try and if i don't i shall respond again after sleeping and being more certain i have more than a few brain cells working together)...

lives lived...

somewhere in my writings i pondered this many times and at least more than a few times rather analytically in terms of chronology... birth to adoption (patterson to brooklyn), adoption to divorce-single-mom-grandma (to east ny), second dad new world (to canarsie), down the block, changing friends, changing names and the sp, disillusioned with education (waltzman kills algebra), finding love and falling (high school), community college and work, the end of the innocence (dec 1), the army (and the changes), wasting away everywhere (drug, sex, and rock and roll years), the professional begins (bdc), moving up - moving out, back to school, following the dream (lake buena vista), early retirement (new house), the dream of love and family (toronto), the street (buffalo-orlando), starting over (ubc), bff (jackson), the softball years, unplanned vacation (pine harbor), almost ideal job (the quest), and now (yet to be named)... reviewing that in more detail i left many chapters out, but not tooo many lives, so how many is that? (laughing at myself as i review the outline of the life i recall)...

yeah, so i guess it's time to move on to your third sentence, second thought...


another thought i've given much time to over the years and with lament and accepting the same responsibility, but hopefully with more hope than i have at this moment (it's a sad month, this november, but this mood is not where i've lingered long in this life in spite of never leaving the sensitivity of it) and just pondering that i am certain with all the positivity left in me that i am capable of reaching out with an optimistic smile to anyone i've cared about because the caring was always genuine and remains as genuine today...

still i do see the meaning in your words and i do and feel the feeling of watching the online world pass me by (and the physical world as well, but that is another pondering for another time)... in the past two weeks i have reached out to at least a dozen people offline via text and phone and a few online through personal messages and many more online through public facebook posts... and four people i've not seen in many months or years shared fun time and i will see more at a thankgsiving dinner this week and a party thrown in honor of my return to socializing next saturday... so i have reason to raise my optimism in spite of the current events in life near (see (e)thereal blog)and far (facebook) this month and last (casey), for that matter...

keep trying to connect... are we connecting?... i offer my experience as it directly relates to your words, but can i do more than focus on me?... ask you what you mean, perhaps?... ask you if you want to share specifics?... if you want to talk?... just this week i learned facebook has a phone call aspect to it's chat feature and i wonder how far it reaches (sure would save money on international calls... unless there's some unmentioned charge i'll find out about next month)... wanna talk?...

you matter to me... i know in my experience that is not true for many people as many people allow detachment and even dismissal of others due time passing between communications but once my heart cares about someone, my caring does not diminish over time... and while i take responsibility for letting silent time pass, i do not take responsibility for other people who diminish their caring (or who simply dismiss others) due to time passing between communications... this is how i see it (and live it)... as awkward as some make it, if they ever really cared, they still care... if they don't care now, they never really did...

so what happened?... is the 'this' you refer to the emotion of __________ (up, down, depression, loneliness, hopelessness, desire for me, excitement, wishing you were somehow here again, wanting more connections that last, something else?)... any changes in your mother and wife status?... share what you wish to share in response to my questions...

perhaps this post you wrote was a momentary release of excess emotions and the writing and posting was enough to bring you back to your smile (i am hopeful, remember?)...

I gave up trying to not walk around with my mind, heart, soul, whatever) wide open... trying to close up or shut down just does not work for me... i just absorb the pain and rain and turn it into hope and rainbows... ok, so it doesn't always work, but that's the plan :)

distraction helps a lot :)

How many lives have I lived in my 31 years, let's see.. This would be the 7th, not sure based on what I came up with that number but it feels about right. The strangest feeling is seeing posts of people I once knew on social networks, some were even close friends, but now I'm no longer involved in these lives.. Watching the posts like a ghost watching the lives of those still alive.. Trying to connect.. But remain unheard and disconnected. Probably it's my fault. Didn't put enough effort and time to keep these relationships alive.. To remain as someone who matters to these people. So go and build myself a new life, with blackjack and hookers.. Erm.. I mean, with new set of people, new country, and wonder if I learned anything along the way. I'm sure i went through some kind of spiritual enlightenment, but not sure what exactly this light is shining on. Empath. Hypersensitivity. Stop walking around with your soul wide open. These are not your thoughts or feelings. And mine are not  mine either. Just a drip of chemicals in my brain. And now this? I so don't need this now. There's no place for these messed up, teenage thoughts and feelings in my newely built life of an adult mother and wife. Haha. Mother and wife. Read into these two terms. What am I supposed to do with these two? They are larger than me, like a toddler daughter wobbling in her mommy's high-heels. When will it fit?

Such an emotion junkie..

You do the math

Maybe because it's fall, or maybe because there's just this constant silence in this place, that I'm starting to go back into that numb state.. viewing myself from outside. Wanting nothing but to sleep. Actually, wholeheartedly looking forward to each evening in anticipation of crawling into bed and going into my dreams, which are so much more exciting and louder than my reality.
Now, there's almost nothing wrong with my reality. I'd probably wouldn't have time to nag here if something was wrong. But this silence..
There were too many changes in the past two years. Not bad changes. Mostly. But changes. Change of life-style because of getting pregnant. Leaving job to be at home with the kid. Changing countries. Losing a friendship. Having closest family move away far from me. Of course, the other side of all these changes is that I have to be thankful that I have all these concepts in my life at all. On the other hand, sometimes, I just want to nag and whine, to feel sorry for myself, to complain, to just talk to someone about myself for hours and hours on, to stop moderating my thoughts, to stop having to filter out what I say not to come across.. just not to come across - I want to stay on the other side of the bridge for a while. I want to get back in touch with my .. MY... not someone else's.. not "broadcast-worthy"...but MY thoughts. The selfish ones. The ones that don't make sense. The ones that can take me to that place where I used to be able to go to when I was younger. And lonely. Now I'm not lonely. But I lost touch with what I am. Even if I never knew what I am..am. But now I kinda just gave up on looking for it. Because I don't see the point. The point of trying. It takes too much energy. And I still have laundry to hang.
Now, and this anxiety? Why does it feel like I'm somehow second best.. is it in my head? Do I keep on feeling jealous because it gives me a sense of excitement? Some drama to add to the relationship? But I feel it.. it's there. And I'm afraid to ask him because I'm afraid he'll not be able to respond as I'd like him to. She was his first love probably. An imprint that will leave its mark for the rest of his life. And I don't have the energy to even try to overcome that. How could I ever? And I still have dinner to cook.
I have to admit I'm obsessed with her. I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is jealousy anymore. I'm fascinated with her. With just the fact that He loved her. How to ever get over that? This selfishness. I want to be his Number One. But how can number One come after number One? That's why I always hated math. It's strict and cold. You can't beat around the bush with it. You can't have it "just maybe this time it will pass." No, in math, everything is always as math states it to be. Heartless bitch.
I just need a friend. Someone to talk to for hours about anything and everything..
I also need some extra hours in a day.
And I still have the house to vacuum.

a couple or few

there are a couple or few, or more if we include you, who are not listed on the side over there where the family names are listed as contributors here and it's not for any guilt trip that i say i wish you'd at least add your name today because even if you just visit in silence and even if you don't come by at all your presence is a precious memory i want to keep and just to see your name here... happy tears would fall...

you once let me into your heart and this place is a tribute to that trust... it will always be here as long as the servers allow and you are welcome... you are wanted... you are missed... and i will keep hoping one day when i come back to this place and i will see your name and know you know that you are my blog family and a precious memory and you are always in my heart wherever you go...

may it bring you a smile too, to know you can come here anytime and be reminded someone cares... may it bring some peace of mind to know you can write anything and i will read and respect and be here... even if it is sheer rage or biting pain or cursing at the world, even if you are upset with me... this is a place for you, a couple or few, people we trust and more... just to see your name here... i remember what i come here for... just to see your name here... an open door...

yeah, i know, i'm stubborn this way... i won't stop believing in you... i won't stop encouraging you... and i hope not to annoy you as i remind you again that this place is where you can be true - no matter what you share here - this place respects you... as i do too :)

gentle slumbers?

ah, we can hope they are gentle, but stress, pain, and numbness do not for gentle slumbers make... stress and pain, the physical and emotional conflicts that come from unresolved or uncooperative mind and body systems, they are both restless waters shifting between torrential downpours and boulder-smashing rapids to unseen riptides and mesmerizing whirlpools, none of which is safe to be too close to, no less within... and numbness, the silent killer, leaves the shell of the body wandering in near zombie states through the basic daily activities of survival while the mind avoids, the heart sleeps, and the body vegetates... all can give the appearance of gentle slumbers from the outside, at least to the untrained or ignorant eye, but those who have been there know better that stress, pain, and numbness are no places to stay for long... if we have a choice... and yet, in so many different ways, most of humanity do have a choice and choose to live there (when will we ever learn)...

and we, dear blog family, know the journey all too well... the outside and the inside become one uneasy blend of wtf?... and all we do is continue... but can we continue a bit differently?... the few words we share occasionally is a different kind of river, a river that came bring some positivity of hope that someone does understand, that someone does care, that we are not as along as we feel... i care about you and wish you a smile today, wish we shared more, even a little more, even a word... come out come out wherever you are, and continue...

hello... hello... hello...

Just a drop

1. petty

When someone takes a small subject and blows it out of proportion. 

At times, making something otherwise insignificant into something bigger to suit their own agenda.

But is it still petty if you are bothered by it for close to five years straight? What's my agenda? Is it due to a lack of problems in my life, as he might suggest? But I want this to be my story.. our story. The only story. Not a chapter in a book. Even if the longest, and possibly the last chapter in the book. But I want to be the book. Selfish? Arrogant? Petty? Probably.. 

But this is important to me. I was pondering about most companies' slogan, "Your call/feedback is important to us." And why is that supposed to make me feel important or somehow like they're concerned about me, as they might imply by that sentence. If you dissect the sentence, all it says is, "We don't give a crap about You-You, we need that whatever piece of information that you might accidentally spit out while consuming our product, to make us do something to bring in more cashy-cashy than we already have." So, why do they think this sentence is supposed to make 'Me' feel special and needed and loved by the cold, steel-tentacled corporation?

Where am I going? Ah yes...to 'feeling special.'

This photo. He says it's not important who's standing on the sides of other people on the photo. And it's his parents choice to have it out. But it's him and her. Not me. Constant reminder. This chapter is bookmarked. Do I mention it to them and make it even a bigger deal? Or quietly go crazy and obsessed about it for the next 5 or 10 or however many years? And when our daughter will learn to speak and ask us who's that woman on the photo? Bookmarked chapter. No big deal right? Am I too territorial? I want every sign of her existence in his past to be gone from our present. 

The Sin of comparison. Argh! This photo brings out so many dark thoughts from me. And no one seems to see it being out there as inappropriate. He said we can't rearrange his parents' house and I have to live with this. 

Petty. 

But it's like the Chinese water drop torture.

I realize how ridiculous it is as I'm writing about it, but what you feel tends to be stripped of its intensity by words. Or does it? I don't know. Either way something is lost somewhere along the way. Or is it that I can't find the appropriate words to use. Vent. Vent. Vent. 

ode to z0tl

he was cryptic cool
as death might sound
if we could hear after
life implodes on itself
for he could see beyond
the daily pretenses
into the silence
of the sound

Summer moved on

It felt kinda strange to realize that I don't have a childhood home or place where I could return to and see all my things and furniture just the way they've been while I was growing up. So, I can never do this scene they do in movies, where many years later, they walk real slowly into the permanently unlocked, hazy hued house to find all their memories scattered and unfinished cookies spiderwebbed. 

But, in a way, I'm glad there's no such place, such places tend to be somehow painful. And well, although I'm sort of sentimental and can get attached to my old lamp (which I decorated myself and almost gave it a name) I don't like this feeling. So, I threw the lamp out. Eventually. After years of beautiful co-existence.. It's sorta like being a moth that's pointlessly smashing itself against the window trying to get to the light that it sees inside. But even the moth has a better chance of actually getting to this light rather than me returning to my past. To which I wouldn't really want to return. Not that it was bad. Just thinking of past is always painful and sad. And as A-ha sings about memories - "the good ones hurt more than the bad ones do."

And now, another home that was put together from scratch, will yet again be abandoned, made a home of someone else, never to be able to return to the same experience of home.. just the place. 

Another country to be made into home now.. fast forward to the already settled routine or try to enjoy the chaos that will come before? 

Exciting and yet somehow brings tears to my eyes just by thinking of the move. Is it wrong to abandon your home to make a new home? What is natural to humans? To stay all their life in the same habitat or to wander about? Or to wander about their same habitat? Hm?

Back to the shore

Back to the shore. Peace made with friend. Higher something achieved after the dark night. Or so I think. Learned my lesson. Or so I think. Been too greedy to spend my time on others, perhaps? Yet hope for relationships to just blossom out of dry clay. 

It's not too late. Or so I hope. 

And now for something completely different. When you wear your new/old/goshwhydidibuythis shirt, and read the label that says, "Made in Bangladesh", do you ever imagine who was this person who made this shirt for you? It's weird how buying something in a store removes any credit you would give to a person who actually made it. Yea, I know, not a new thought.. but when you really, really think into it, someone far-far away was sewing this shirt together, which you eventually would buy, so at that moment when they were sewing it, they were actually sewing it for you. That is, if you are not very strict with the concept of the order in which things happen and the time it takes for these things to happen. And there are other, darker thoughts I have when thinking of this and Bangladesh, but it's just too sad to go hang out with those thoughts. 

What's even more weird, if you were to go to Bangladesh as a tourist, you'd probably buy some handmade thingie from the locals, and with a careful smile you'll be trying to say ''thank you" in broken Bengali that you learned while on your trip. And all this gives me a dull, throbbing feeling of guilt, because anyways I'm not going to do anything about it and just continue buying STUFF! 

Younger

Seems I managed to throw myself into some deep, dark water.. and though I still see the shore, it's just scary to realize that the harder I'm trying to swim towards this shore, the further I realize that it is from me. I don't know what set this off, the fight that I got into with my friend, which she now exaggerated to the point where 15 years of friendship could be easily shaken off by her.. or was it just an excuse of hers to end this friendship? Why it bothers me so much more than it does her?

And explaining what is wrong seems wrong and only makes me swim further.."No one understands me!" Oh my, are we 16 again? Didn't you want to be younger? Here you go. 

There's nothing in particular I can complain about. No facts I can give you. No certain story. But my emotions are like a strained out guitar string, ready to pop any second and hit (who? probably myself) in the eye.

I stumbled upon some weird article, while asking google-the-almighty why am I so pathetic; this article spoke of the dark night of the soul. Except I didn't really notice when exactly did I set off on the road to find higher consciousness. 

Is it bad that recently alcohol is the only thing I look for to release this emotional tension-shmension? OH MY GOD, you scream, an alcoholic mother!!! Watch her drop the baby any moment now! Or now!!! Or... now!! Now? While you watch for that, I will go have a cigarette break.

No, not that bad yet.. but I don't know what this is.. but I need to get out of it. I should be able to handle this better. This is what I always wanted, since I was fricking 5!!! And now I don't know how to handle it properly.. 

I suppose if he would show a bit more pride in me being a domestic engineer (hah! you can actually call yourself that when filling out forms; that is, if you were the lucky winner of this complex too, while being a mother.)

WTF.

Losing yourself. 

I used to have hobbies.. true, I was always very lazy to go do them.. but I did do them. And now .. now I don't. 

Comedy of errors.. ha? 

So this is how you become the nagging wife. The jealous wife. The suspicious wife. The wife. Because you understand that this is not what he signed up for.. and probably other bubbly, happy-go-lucky chicks are so refreshing now. 

And suddenly, I'm out of words. Ba.. 

on family (and blog family)

here's a start at a perspective on family (and blog families) for pondering... we do not have to be sharing or in touch to be family or a blog family, we only have to want to be family or a blog family to be family or a blog family... people do not need to be in touch and share to still care... so we are family or blog family if we want to be family or blog family and if we share a few words now and then all the better cuz it's good to know family and blog family and through sharing, we get to know each other :)

simply, family starts inside with wanting to be family... so to all silent blog family members out there, no worries, you are still blog family if you want to be... share when you want to, read when you want to, do nothing and still be family anytime... cuz it makes sense and feels better this way...

your thoughts? :)

Tell you miserable things after you're asleep

So, I've been wanting to write about this entry of yours, Candoor, for awhile: living room.

You wrote it a few weeks before I met my husband to be; to be honest, I didn't understand this entry very well at the time, it was like looking at shapes and figures through a tulle curtain, and then I re-read it now, 5 or so years later, and it was almost eerie and gave me goosebumps.. how accurately it described where I'm heading to. And where I have arrived. Edit edit edit, because paranoid is a cool word.

Add 1 year old daughter to the story, sleeping in the room next to me.. and this song.

At some point it felt like I have gotten out of this constant dwelling inside myself; but staying with another little human can plunge you in even deeper. "Brooding" is my new favorite word. As it is of most hens probably. Why mention a hen if that's not how you want to be perceived? Maybe to have someone deny it. Either way, living in constant feelings of ambivalence is probably not healthy for the mind.

once upon a time

there was a blog family of sorts... it was so named by one of the bloggers in the family just cuz some people on the internet who blogged would keep in touch through their blogs via messages and the occasional blog post... some of the people blogged often, at least one babbled on as if babbling was breathing (pant pant pant, no, not heavy breathing, but occasionally out of breath from the excitement of writing)... even this babbling fool, however, has learned how to be briefer and even cut short thoughts in what may seem like midstream kinda like this... or perhaps, squirrel...

over the years, the family has blogged less... a few met in the offline world and a few have gone silent, disappearing from the web... a few keep in touch via email, however occasionally... and that's the reason this blog is here... it's for the blog family and wanna-be blog family (just say so and tell us why) and fans of the blog family and a place for blog family to check in, leave a word or two (or few or more), photos, art, a breath anytime, once in a while, or whenever the mood rises...

no rules, it's your blog too - make it what you want it to be...

perhaps i (or you) will connect to the roots in another entry or revise and have an about page or somehow organize the introduction and information we want to share as a family... or perhaps you will do it... and format, format is open to your creativity... i chose this format randomly from the few blogger provides, feel free to find one that suits us better... you are invited (emails are being sent out) to make this whatever you want it to be... i made this place for us and it is yours now... i came here to say thank you for being in this world :)