- learn to play the harmonica
- do one painting a week
- write something of substance
- keep brewing business/ vocational ideas how to achieve this
- use internet to find harmonica tuition
- start painting
- find topic that interests me
- keep brewing
Friday, 3 February 2012
things i plan to do
big skies in new cross
tonight or this eve, now, the sun is setting gold and red and driving through new cross along the new cross road, the skies are huge and open. really nice. plus it is Friday. things not so bad.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
i lost faith in myself
it has felt sometimes like everything has been unravelled and my confidence hit at some point
an all time low so i don't even value the smallest moment in which i breathe.
all i can say is god give me strength to change this.
i want to value my existence.
an all time low so i don't even value the smallest moment in which i breathe.
all i can say is god give me strength to change this.
i want to value my existence.
tsunami
cancer is like this.
It comes with no warning and without celebration, without pomp and without occasion.
It sweeps the very life from under you
and pulls the carpet from beneath where you trod.
When I discovered a loved one was afflicted in this way
it felt as though me and those I love
were inside a food processor.
An alien and uncaring finger pressed it on
and pulsed us to a pulp.
then stopped.
Then pressed it on again
until we no longer knew ourselves or the ground on which we stood.
That cold and wintry day many months ago,
my world altered when hers was threatened.
Some days you are pleased that things are level and okay
you forget
and carry on with it all
and then the tsunami comes and rips things assunder.
No warning,
No reason
No justice.
Once it has struck once you never feel the same.
And any tickle, any ache, brings with it the hated uncertainty of unwelcome mortality.
Can things get any worse? you wonder
And sometimes it feels they can
But I have to try to believe.
Things can get better.
It comes with no warning and without celebration, without pomp and without occasion.
It sweeps the very life from under you
and pulls the carpet from beneath where you trod.
When I discovered a loved one was afflicted in this way
it felt as though me and those I love
were inside a food processor.
An alien and uncaring finger pressed it on
and pulsed us to a pulp.
then stopped.
Then pressed it on again
until we no longer knew ourselves or the ground on which we stood.
That cold and wintry day many months ago,
my world altered when hers was threatened.
Some days you are pleased that things are level and okay
you forget
and carry on with it all
and then the tsunami comes and rips things assunder.
No warning,
No reason
No justice.
Once it has struck once you never feel the same.
And any tickle, any ache, brings with it the hated uncertainty of unwelcome mortality.
Can things get any worse? you wonder
And sometimes it feels they can
But I have to try to believe.
Things can get better.
i thought i liked Thursdays
in fact they are a day like all others and actually never mind the school run, Saturday will bring with it its achingly long tribulations too of having to find stuff for kids to do all day and the rest.
i know i sound like a well depressed misery guts. well, perhaps i am just that.
the food was okay though significant other stormed out before the end due to a communication issue with him and son one, nearly fourteen; and the hunger and enthusiasm with which i shopped for cake making stuff was all but gone when the cake finally emerged from the oven.
so my happy thoughts turned into a now mostly uneaten cake that will haunt me for a couple of days and a wasted pint of milks worth of lumpy birds custard in a pan waiting to be thrown out cos it doesn't really keep.
I have only just managed to get daughter age 4 down to sleep as she kept reappearing after copious story reading and having loaded dishwasher and put a wash on i now have about 5 days of put off laundry to put away all creased and unlaundryish having been piled up for days.
not much of the domestic goddess eh, no wonder everyone's been hunting for clothes for days.
not anything else to write about.
i know i sound like a well depressed misery guts. well, perhaps i am just that.
the food was okay though significant other stormed out before the end due to a communication issue with him and son one, nearly fourteen; and the hunger and enthusiasm with which i shopped for cake making stuff was all but gone when the cake finally emerged from the oven.
so my happy thoughts turned into a now mostly uneaten cake that will haunt me for a couple of days and a wasted pint of milks worth of lumpy birds custard in a pan waiting to be thrown out cos it doesn't really keep.
I have only just managed to get daughter age 4 down to sleep as she kept reappearing after copious story reading and having loaded dishwasher and put a wash on i now have about 5 days of put off laundry to put away all creased and unlaundryish having been piled up for days.
not much of the domestic goddess eh, no wonder everyone's been hunting for clothes for days.
not anything else to write about.
i like thursdays
it is nearly the end of a week and somehow that cycle pleases me- nearly Friday so nearly a break from the school run (yawn) and so today i am cooking a yummy meal: baked spuds, chilli con carne, rice and cauliflour cheese followed by jam sponge cake with custard. and i got a nice bottle of red which i will not feel guilty about indulging in.
just looking forward to kids bed time and some peace and quiet!
just looking forward to kids bed time and some peace and quiet!
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
bored of blog- on writing
if i am then i can't imagine what anyone reading it must feel.
i mean i started it as a process to help me write stuff down but it feels really icky and sometimes i regret writing stuff that is so close to the often boring bone and wish there was better stuff i could think of to write instead of my insecurities and banalities.
but then i also figure that you gotta start somewhere and if you edit too much and worry to much about how what you say is gonna come across then you lose the flow.
i mean is it better to write a whole load of crap than nothing at all?
i would write on paper but i have so many books of endless writing, moaning probably and i suppose this is a cross between self therapy and an attempt to find my writing voice.
i just hope i find it soon!
i mean i started it as a process to help me write stuff down but it feels really icky and sometimes i regret writing stuff that is so close to the often boring bone and wish there was better stuff i could think of to write instead of my insecurities and banalities.
but then i also figure that you gotta start somewhere and if you edit too much and worry to much about how what you say is gonna come across then you lose the flow.
i mean is it better to write a whole load of crap than nothing at all?
i would write on paper but i have so many books of endless writing, moaning probably and i suppose this is a cross between self therapy and an attempt to find my writing voice.
i just hope i find it soon!
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