Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The blurred penguin about town, sits at the icecream parlor, wishing the firetrucks would race somewhere to save the day just so he could see it and tell his friends.
I went to see Chakra Carol again... my spleen is still chock full o'disappointment. hopes dashed, expectations deflated... may bear looking into why- but I am back into the momitude of my day to day in just under 24 hours... Carol gave me some selfhelp/clarification CD listening to do and I will try to work that into my routine so I can do some more thinking about it all. This life seems punctuated by bad experiences and I should probably look at my phraseology to see if I can work in more accurate punctutation, or cut it out alltogether. What price, the comma?
what will be good about the listening is that part of it involves a writing requirement. I love the blogging but have missed the old pen. and as the writing will involve the other half of my marriage, and what we go through and who I am in the marriage , it will not be particularly blogworthy. As well, there is encouragement to rant and to question our thoughts, as if the brain were an interloper ... maybe making me nuts which is not always what I want people to see, believe it or not.
I don't feel as all relaxed and zen after this visit. I think the depression and/or wilt of the past month or three has gotten under my skin.
and I've been thinking it was April for about a week and a half and am just astonished to find that I'm still in March. what gives? Am I so ready for Spring that I am racing through it? And many people have had babies lately, or one person had two babies lately and I ricocheted off some bibs for her and was pleased to discover that holding a small baby does not make me want one. It sure did make me remember that unique experience but without any real sense of longing. AND I know how to make a bib with my eyes closed now, almost - and it shows. but I assume that this new mom of twins will not look too closely at my work and will just be happy to keep some of the spitup off the floor.