I'm digressing from talk of children today.
We just finished watching the latest season of Californication. I love the show- because aside from its debauchery and sexual digressions- it offers me something I've always wanted for myself- A life that is flippant and free.
The characters are damaged, hilarious, natural and insane. The dialogue is clever- it makes me want to write. It makes me want to remember the nights when i never slept- for all the conversations i would have with random people and myself. The laughs that were in just free-flowing uncensored thoughts.
Life- has always felt like a struggle to control... to contain the craziness that provokes random actions. Sometimes i want to just DO things - because at that moment- that's what i want to do... and why should i go to uni- go to work- go do anything that doesn't feel natural.....
Isn't at all what i want to do at that given moment.
What sense does it make to spend a limited lifetime building these walls of constraint, when all they do is suffocate and constrict.
Sometimes i turn on music and dance, sometimes i don't turn on music to dance. Sometimes i turn around and there are kids staring at me. Wondering what I'm doing over there. Sometimes they laugh then we all dance. Sometimes Tivi makes circles with her fingers around her ear, and explains to me helpfully that this gesture indicates that I'm crazy.
Sometimes i pick up a pen and all i can do is stare at a page wondering what on earth i could possibly say about anything that would make any difference to the state of now. Sometimes the snow comes down in June and sometimes the sun goes round the moon.
Haha this blog- the latest addition to the many i've been collecting over the years- is in part a forcing of my mind to retrace its steps, to test out what may have been ability- that ever elusive 'potential' school reports insist i had but never made use of.
Potential wasted is not a reality... just a hypothetical.
I started re-reading books. Books i've gathered over the years and forgotten on the shelf that has become ornamental and non-functional. Books that remind me of the times that are tied to them. Some i remember at exact moments. See myself outside of the THEN and watch as that old me, that girl that sometimes lingers in a distant memory... catches herself stopping... Turning, running her fingers down the spine of something that has somehow caught her eye. Looking lightly at the title, cool covers beneath her fingertips. Knowing a sentence in the pages- will somehow change her mind.
I've always seen the world from a million confused perspectives- this is how i explain my lack of commitment to anything at all. How to say definitively what you want when there is no truth, no fact no absolute. When all is one and a million possible variations.
Cryptic, isn't it. Haha- sometimes it's all very simple. And when it is simple... i am in love with everything. It's always one moment. One moment made of laughter. One moment made of nothing but goodness. One moment where everything just IS. Requiring nothing else. It's complete. And ohhhh so wonderful.
I wish i was comfortable in my own skin- enough to say that nothing else mattered but the experience of such moments. I wish i could pass onto my children - that it IS that simple. That (this) life is not infinite, so enjoy yourselves, and live carelessly- for if nothing else its a simple truth that we are who we are and the more we bend and twist ourselves to fit- the more damage we do to everything around us.
I've always believed for the most part people are good. Part of me believes its the wanting to 'grow out' of being children that's bought the world to its screwed up present. I watch my kids grow up, and grow out of having a confidence i wish i could retrieve, out of having an unbiased, unquestionable optimism and curiosity. Of having the need only to discover more. To laugh and make mess and be - free.
I've grown up fed with the imaginings of others- worlds i can't conjure - people i wish i knew.
Out of all of it- i hang onto a hope- that if it's written, if it's shown... then it must be possible- to be like that. To be amazing- in the space of a story- in the length of a movie...
I want to join the moments together and create a life of strange moments. Filled with awe and emotions and no ill intent, no over analysis. NO CONSEQUENCE!
I watched a silly romance movie, and told Zane i wanted to be proposed to. He shakes his head and says no. And part of me knows he means it- but part of me hopes he doesn't. Sometimes i want to reach into him and turn on the crazy switch. Sometimes i want to rip down all the stupid walls he's built around these precious feelings. Sometimes i want to scream loud and long enough for him to see that life is made of these minutes- when just BEING isn't enough. When a feeling is bigger than the body that contains it- and responsibility is distant ugly and stupid second cousin to Whim.
I told him how i never was that girl, that wanted all those things- But in saying that, i've created an anti-hero to say that with no expectation comes no effort. Today i'm tired of the boredom - So if i've never dreamt of white weddings and a knight to come rescue me- doesn't mean to say i can't get tired of standing on my own two feet with a good head on my shoulders and a will of my own. Doesn't mean every once in a while- someone shouldn't come in to sweep me offa them, stuff me in a cloud and do all the deciding for me.
Sometimes it would be a novelty.
Haha this post is random. Because i feel- restless. I've missed it- the restlessness. Back in the days when sleep was scarce and thoughts were rapid- restlessness drove me to panic. These days it's tempered with the promise of a new day- of things that i MUST do... it's new, the knowing that i can't say screw it- work is not what i want to do today- these days work is human, and it stares me down with all its pairs of beautiful chocolate coated eyes and voices too innocent to ignore.
Today i am thankful, for this wanting to be free. Thankful for the inability to be at peace with myself. For wanting to push. For wanting more. For forcing myself to write. To draw. To fake that confidence - until i am natural at it.
For no one but me.
Oh and i made Play dough tonight.
In 4 different colours. Although i wanted many more colours- i ran out of salt.
It's always the everyday things, that you take for granted- that you always don't buy coz u assume there's always some left.
It's always those things- that when they're missing- you realise- how little you appreciate them.
So - to Salt. I'm sorry i ignore your importance. I will endeavour to make sure to check on you- so that you may always be present and abundant in my times of need.
You are important to me.
Thanks-
To restlessness. To being forced to do things. To maybe- wasted potential. To great shows. To strange humour. To husbands that indulge my wanting of out-of-the-ordinary experiences by agreeing to my strange requests. To food dye that adds colour to flour. TO SALT my unappreciated seasoning.
To John Paul who we bumped into at the shops today for reminding me that i love the people i know - even when i don't know them too well- coz it's nice - to see smiling faces and genuine enquiries on welfare. Coz somehow i know that if, along the course of our separate lives, we heard in passing something bad happened to you we would hate it and feel terribly sad... or alternately if something great happens we would share in a tiny way- your joy with smiles and goodwill from whereever it is we are. Coz you're nice, and the world should be good to you.
Lastly Thank you - to life. Because you are lovely even when you are ordinary.
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