Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing
Saturday, Oct. 02, 2004 - 1:42 p.m.
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
No One in my Life Yells... just Life Itself
mmm, we're ok again.
Try not to stress.
Well, yeah, that is what I was doing. Just going to bed at a reasonable time.
4am instead of 8am.
Then waking up with thoughts running through my head, through my sleep and nonsleep.
Tell myself seven thousand times "sleep, no problem, just sleep."
Funny how your mind doesn't listen to itself.
Telling yourself seven thousand times "go to sleep, do things tomorrow", and then closing your eyes and having your brain race, awake or trying to sleep, asleep or staying awake...
tossing and turning heart pounding.
This is not a conscious worrying thing.
And yeah I got up, drew a page, then it was 8am (so much for getting to bed at a reasonable hour), I felt like i'd accomplished something, and I was dead dead tired.
I slept.
And you're right Onewetleg. No one yells at me.
The tenants ask about their drains, the stairs, the closet door, the floor tiles. But they don't yell. (only the one last month who moved out).
The bank doesn't yell, they just send me a paper with the credit margin becoming not a margin. The Visa, the vet, the carshare, the taxes. None of them yell. Just send me papers that pile up that I COULD forget say "pay me".
The house doesn't yell, it gets dust and the walls crack. The doors don't fit anymore, and the fence sags, the screws fall out of the stairs, the grass dies, the metal fence breaks, the floor's not flat anymore. But it doesn't yell.
The vegetables don't yell. They just rot. And smell. Sometimes that feels like yelling. The garden doesn't yell, though if I don't take care of it, it will die (remember to water the garden), and I will get thrown out and my name will go on a list of "expulsed gardeners" given to everyone next year.
My work doesn't yell. But if I don't do it, the phone won't yell "answer me, someone is calling with a contract". Simply no one will call anymore. There will be no work, and no money. Or I can do bad work rushing at the last minute cuz i didn't focus earlier. Then there is only quiet again, unless it is so bad the client calls for revisions or changes. Then there might be yelling. But more often quiet. They don't call back.
The boxes of 800 plus books don't yell. They sit there if I don't call to find stores to buy them. I guess it's ok to pay to print a thousand books and then not sell them. But it takes a lot of space.
The animals don't yell, but they get fleas and arthritis, and they do well, they do sort of yell. They whine and meow and give me those LOOKS if I don't walk them, open the door, feed them, let them out... That is one reason why the animals always get done and become priority one.
The website doesn't yell, though sometimes if I don't get a page of comics done people write comments "Where is the comic today???. And that is one reason why the comics always get done and become priority two.
No. very little in my life yells. It just slowly slides into decline as time slides through my fingers. And then I feel incompetent. And my whole brain then yells. But apparently mostly when I try to sleep.
Incredibly it is not raining, and so my Dad has been up fixing the back fence for two hours. I must walk doggies.
And try to work. Work. Pencil, paper, a text in front of me. At a desk. Work. And then I will sleep better. Because even if the money doesn't come in any faster, even if the dust still accumulates and the walls still crack and the credit margin narrows, at least then I can sleep.
cheers,
wenchie.
yeah, it'll be alright.
remember, I am not the most fucked up in my family.
he is already dead.
And remember, he had way more brains and talent than me.
One needs a strong constitution. And sleep.
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previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
