I'm Still Here

 Herself speaks.

I... am clearly having trouble writing, stalwart readers. 

Things have been Busy.  

The Orange Project has consumed a lot of time.  It is enjoyable in many ways: it feels fruitful, and requires occasional thoughtful writing bits (writing, my favorite!). It does require a certain amount of people-ing, but I actually find that to be helpful, in a growth sort of way (people-ing is not at all my strong suit, and I freely acknowledge that I would benefit from improvement in that area).  

Work is, well, Work. It is busy and usually challenging. Sometimes tiring. I do the best I can. 

The renovations to the house are done. (There are a few tiny things that need doing, like replacing face plates on some light switches, but those are minor.)  All that remains is Putting Everything Back --- which, eeeeeeesh, that's a task that I do not have time for (see The Orange Project, above). Fortunately there is no timeframe on Putting Everything Back. I'm chipping away at things slowly -- I've put my closet back, so I can locate my clothes; I've put the pantry back, so I can find food if I can also find time to cook; I've put the furniture we did not get rid of into the family room, so I can sit in a tidy place. Next step: the study, which will involve sorting all my papers so that I can ensure the file cabinets are all well organized.  That might take some time. I might work on it later today.

Of course, we're now entering the holiday season, which comes with Obligations and shopping and whatnot. (And Feelings. Alas.)

Let's not even discuss the news/politics. Because GOOD GRAVY. So awful. Every day, some fresh new Terrible appears. It's beyond comprehension. 

December is, also, the anniversary of the Inflection Point. It's been two years now since the trajectory changed and I had to learn how to move forward in a slightly different direction. I've come a long way, and have clarity and strength that I did not realize I possessed then. There is still mental work to be done; that is the challenge. Acceptance of what cannot be changed is a slow process. I will get there someday.

All this being said, I find myself disassociating with small online games or through TikTok in my spare moments, rather than using that time to write here. I very much do not want to feel as though I am abandoning myself and this Blog, though. The Blog and I have been through so much together. I enjoy writing. I process best through writing, too. 

At the moment, however, some of the things I am processing are not things I can write about, for they involve people -- and I do not usually write about specific people, for their stories are for them to share, not for me to do so. Other people are entitled to their privacy. 

Someday, the weight of Life and the World will be lighter, and I will feel like writing about trivial things or generic stuff that I find interesting.  And that will be lovely and delightful.

Know, gentle reader, that I have not abandoned you. Or me. Or us. It's all just a bit Much.  We'll get back to ordinary life someday. 

Advent

BEHOLD, how lucky I am: an Avent calendar of SHINY ROCKS. HUZZAH. We do love a shiny rock.

Day one: Tiger's eye. Incredibly appropriate, for Reasons. 

Nice. 

Exile

 I'm not particularly a Taylor Swift fan.  I know she has QUITE the following, and I am glad that she is so motivational and inspirational for so many people; we all need someone to admire. 

I heard a snippet of this song on TikTok (repository of all sorts of fragments of media), and did not realize at first that it was Taylor Swift. By the time I'd listened to the whole song, it had crept under my skin in a way that none of her other songs ever has before. 

So I'll add this one to my pop culture/music repertoire, and now will be able to chat with Swifties meaningfully, should the occasion arise. 

Exile, featuring Bon Iver.

Myrtle

 Herself speaks.

Where have I gone?

I am so wrapped up in an all-consuming project that I have undertaken -- let us call it the Orange Project -- and it occupies so much of my time and my thoughts, that there hardly seems to be any moments left for me to contemplate anything else. 

I like the Orange Project. It feels very worthwhile, as if I am doing something meaningful. It is a two-year project; I can do anything for two years. I have done harder things, for longer. 

Sometimes, when I am driving from point A to point B and have fifteen minutes to myself, I enjoy a few non-Orange thoughts. 

I think about my Offspring. I miss them. I hope they are doing well in their own unique lives that they have established for themselves. Is it a sign of success as a parent, to be no longer needed? They are such lovely people, and I am tremendously proud of them. 

I think about Cherished Friend. It is still a grief for me that he lives Oceanside. I miss the mundane aspects of friendship -- running errands, having lunch on the occasional weekday, going for a walk. Cooking a bit extra at mealtimes, to give to him. Listening to him and Beloved Husband discuss politics on the back patio. Scrabble. These pieces are the ones that ultimately, I enjoy most. 

I think about my lovely Daddy. Just the other day, for the first time ever, that feeling of "I really must call Daddy to say hello" crossed my mind, as if my brain had temporarily forgotten that he is dead. And then my brain remembered, and was embarrassed, and sad all over again. 

I think about what I would like the future to look like, and I cannot imagine it at all. When did I stop having dreams? 

Maybe I didn't really stop. Maybe my dreams are just metamorphosing.

To allow them to fully spread their wings, I need to let go of the fruitless longings that hold me back. 

I cannot change other people. And I cannot make them care for me in the way I care for them. 

I can, however, be myself, and give as I like, but without exhausting my own resources. I am not The Giving Tree.  

I shall aim to be like the myrtle.

And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.

-- Kahlil Gibran, On Giving

Quietly

 When someone does not like celebrating a birthday, what do I do?

I try to be as unobtrusive as possible, but still mark the day, because it's important to me: it is the day someone close to my heart arrived here on the planet. And one day, in the fullness of time, we met, and my live was changed infinitely for the better. 

Walking the line, quietly. Happy birthday. 

Almost There

It's been ten days since that first feeling in the back of my throat appeared, and eight days since the first positive COVID test (this time). There is just the teeeeeniest line appearing at the test line now - the kind of line that can hardly be captured in a picture and that, if I saw it a week ago, I would have thought SURELY THAT CAN'T BE A THING, and tested again the following day to be sure. 

I still sound congested and am, as usual, retaining a post-illness cough, but at least I have made it to the other side. 

I am not thinking about the possible long-term damage that this as-yet-not-fully-understood virus may be causing, because what can I do about that? Nothing. Some people develop cardiac issues, or long COVID, or lung issues. Some people are fine. I have so many little health wierdnesses, that I am placing no bets - just crossing my fingers that all will be well. 

On we go. 

Third Time's The... Charm?

Well.... f**k.