Sundays

I think have become the most tedious bit. Today, I'm still hiding under the covers. It's cloudy and dark and well, I'm tired and don't see much reason to crawl out into the world.

Becky said to me once when we were discussing being single vs. being in a relationship (Becky is married) - she said, "I am envious of your Friday nights, and you are envious of my Sunday nights." I think it sums most of it up right there.

I recognize that I made a very difficult choice recently and that it will take awhile for all of the bits and pieces to sift and sort themselves out. I know that throughout this 'phase' of being I need to be gentle and kind to myself and others. Breathe my way through it. I recognize the art of letting go. I would like to think that I have spent the majority of my life perfecting it.

Although there is pride in choosing yourself, your strength and solitude and being alone until it's truly 'right' - it still aches and pinches in the oddest of moments. More so when you really just want someone to curl up next to you, pull you in and breathe quietly beside you so that your mind can rest.

Today however, I want to wallow a bit. I want to lay in bed, stare at my ceiling. Think about long Sunday walks, late breakfasts, sharing the New York Times, cooking Sunday dinners. All of the happy normalcy's that make up a Sunday. Today I feel like missing that. It's not to say that at some point I won't pull myself out of bed, perhaps shower and go join the Italian Feast that some of my friends are conjuring up...I will because I will be bored with my own thoughts and that's what you do. You pull yourself up.

For the next hour or two however, I will lay here. Just like this and miss things.

Sometimes you just need to shut up and dance.

I think

I'm starting to make sense of it all. To feel better. I've started sleeping again. The pain in my chest is subsiding. I had always known what to do. I just never seemed able to muster up the cahones. To make the choice to be with just me.

I feel a twinge hopeful again. That whole, world is my oyster type of shit. I don't dread the holidays. I don't dread much. I am free. Finally...finally free. I won't ever look behind me again. I won't ever open that door, or window again. My soul won't allow for it.

Time

It is 2692 days from the start date to the end date, but not including the end date.

Or 7 years, 4 months, 13 days excluding the end date.

Alternative time units

2692 days can be converted to one of these units:

* 232,588,800 seconds
* 3,876,480 minutes
* 64,608 hours
* 384 weeks

That's how long.

Nostalgia

It's never a good thing when the wine is flowing and the albums come out. However, about once a year - oddly enough, usually in the fall, it happens.

Not sure why it is but I get this compelling need to review my life. Sift through the faces and places. Remember the 'when's'. I don't need to state the obvious that coincidentally mildly depressing music strums along in the background. I think it's part of having a vagina. I can't imagine boys do this. I don't know. I'm not one.

It always starts with this album of my childhood. Old black and whites and transcends through the London years, marriage...and then comes to a screeching halt. Because we are in a digital age and well, I have no more pictures. My life in albums ends at 28 years old. The rest of me is 'on line'. It's mildly fucked up in theory when you spell it out like that. That my memories now can only be found through computer screens. There is nothing tangible to keep hidden away safely in plastic bins to pull out every year and sift through. I can delete it all if I want to. There is no basement of the past 8 years of my life.

I miss the days of not being able to edit myself and the excitement of one hour photo's. I miss not being deletable.

Humph.

Secret Garden

My courtyard is somewhat representative of my inner emotional workings today. Things sort of strewn and scattered about. Leaves falling, seasons passing. Changes. A bit dark but still some flowers fighting to stay in the sun. It needs a clean up. For sure. But for right now, it will stay messy until I can motivate myself to put things in their right place.

Soon.

You ever feel....

Like you've always known the right answer...you just stopped asking yourself the right questions?

Exactly.