Business men drink my blood...

I'm not really tired.  I'm not particularly energetic.  I'm not in a bad mood... or a good one.  I have a general desire for things to be done, with no desire to actually do them. Truthfully I want to lay on the couch listening to loud music and reading.  Cole isn't asleep yet, so the loud music is out (unless I want to impede his going to sleep even further). 

Every room in my house needs to be cleaned.  Floors, dishes... and we don't even want to talk about Cole's room.  Seriously, if I could just torch it and start over, I might.  This is what happens when you don't clean things for 3 days.  Well, today is day 4, but it's not over yet and I'm still holding out hope that I will actually somehow manage to motivate myself sufficiently into actually accomplishing something. 

I seriously doubt I could have screwed up more stuff than I managed to in the last 24 hours at work... though now I may subconsciously take that as a challenge for when I go back to work Wednesday and prove myself wrong.

This past weekend was... well, it was.  Not my worst ever, so that's good.  I worked Saturday and Sunday, which I dislike.  But I need money, for things like food and shelter and internet.  Hi-ho, hi-ho.  

Tomorrow I'm off.  No working.  Just house cleaning and laundry and shopping and costume making and pumpkin carving.  I am not a good costume maker or pumpkin carver.  But I do what I do. 

Which, as some point, must include dishes.

Now the water's rising, but I know the course.

Some days, there are no words.
Some days nothing is wrong, it's just that nothing is right.
Some days just the act of being is exhausting.

Some days, the best thing about the entire day is that is is over. 
Tomorrow is a brand new day. 


And now, off to watch Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog.  No, really. 

Life is a highway...

So, the cat seems to be out of the bag.  Which is good, because cats hate being in bags.  Have you ever tried to stuff a cat in a bag?  It's hard, because they really dislike being put in bags.  So, yeah.  Anyway, I digress.  Drum roll, please....

I met someone.  For our purposes, his name is B.  I'm still not sure how I really feel about blogging about B, but he doesn't mind being blogged about and, like I said, the cat has already escaped, so why not?  Anyways, he is wonderful.  How wonderful is he?  Well, he's so wonderful that today he stayed on the web cam with Cole for over 20 minutes telling Cole knock knock jokes.  I wouldn't even be willing to do that and he's my kid. 

Did I say web cam?  Yes, yes, I did.  I generally find web cams creepy, but it turns out they are uber great for Cole keeping up with grandparents long distance.  And, yes, I'm doing the long distance thing with B.  It has it's downsides (the long distance), but it also has some perks (increased verbal communication).  If you can't guess from the last post, he is in Texas.  It's not a bad drive, but it's not exactly close. 

So, there you have it.  Do with it what you will.  Seriously.  I dare you. 

It feels just like I'm falling for the first time.

Once again, this was written around midnight, but I neglected to post it.

I like vacations.  Who doesn't?  But it's hard to get back into the swing of things.  It's hard to leave the surreal and come back to reality.  I managed to mostly clean my house tonight, so I've got that going for me.  Still seems like I have an overwhelming lot to do.

I went to Texas for the first time.  Seems like I'm doing a lot of things for the first time lately.  

This doesn't seem like it should be my life.   I'm awkward and nervous and I don't fit.  Except... suddenly, I do fit and it's natural and relaxed and easy.   Things don't work this way for me, thing aren't this easy or simple or relaxed.  But yet, here I am all the same.  The only way I can figure out that I got here is because God does answer prayers.

Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer.

I am afraid of a good many things.  Falling and things that hop and water... and being forgotten.  Of all the many things I fear, I fear being forgotten then most.  I don't believe that I am a memorable person.  I don't think that I have anything to contribute that is so unique that it could not be done as well or better by another.  I think that after I leave a place, that I will just be some girl that was there once but that no one really remembers or regards. 

Most Fridays I am delivering and most Fridays I take a delivery to a lady at the nursing home.   She isn't very old, probably only in her forties at the most.  She appears to have very aggressive MS and has become significantly worse since I started taking her deliveries a couple of months ago.  Now, I don't like nursing homes.  I've been to a lot and it was usually voluntary, but I don't like them.  I don't like the smell, I don't like the cold tile floors, I don't like the dreary colours usually used to decorate an already dismal place.  I don't know the reasons that all the people have come there.  I know that some are there because there is no other choice, because they require a great deal of care.  Some are there because there is no one who can care for them.  Some are there simply because no one does care for them. 

Not all of these people are forgotten.  The lady I deliver to isn't.  I don't know if she has any family in the area, but I do know that her nephew calls each week from Arizona to order her dinner.  So many there are forgotten, though.  So many of them have even forgotten themselves. 

I hope to never exist like that.  It isn't living.  It's dying in slow motion. 

...light up, as if you have a choice.

Let my soul fly.
Let it be free,
and light,
and easy. 
Let me soar high.
Let me sing,
and dance,
and pray.

I want to see
things I never have,
things I do not know.
I want to feel
things I never have,
things I cannot say.

I want to live,
long and quickly,
strong and softly,
hard and gently.

Let me be.
Let me laugh,
and smile,
and love.

Learn from your mother or you'll spend your days biting your own neck.

Cole is awesome. 

At Round House, he got into a bit of trouble over playing in a deep mud puddle.  He was soaked at the way to his shoulders and had mud in his hair.  We were walking to dinner and he saw another puddle.  "Mama, can I walk through that water, please?"  He was told yes, and did so.  "Thank you, Mama, for letting me walk through the puddle.  I love getting my boots wet.  And I love getting eaten by monsters."

No idea on that last bit. 

Today at work, he asked me to cut his orange into crescents.  That was the word he used and, yes, he knew what it meant. 

This evening I had Bourne Identity playing during dinner.  Upon seeing the very first fight scene in the park (which isn't much of a fight since Bourne disarms and takes down both officers within about 5 seconds), Cole nonchalantly says, "Well, he can fight pretty good."

Oh, and his play fort has now become a spaceship.