I have to write this on my phone. There will be a lot of typos. I forgot to pay my internet bill and they cut me off. Feckers.
Today was lovely. Roast chicken for breakfast. Shopping (I made €20 in tips last night and bought myself an easel). A walk through the park which was beautiful. It was sunny, the mountains were capped with snow and the trees are still bare. I love the shapes the branches make. I like to imagine some are Ents, I have three trees I particularly love.
I got two lovely gifts this week. My Dad’s mobile phone, cutting edge technology twenty years ago. I can still see him clearly, chewing the antenna or the phone poking out of the pocket of his favourite shirt. The red head on him.
And a lovely refillable notebook from my very talented friend, Kerry. I got a bit teary, I’m a sucker for thoughtful gifts and, by God, I have some grá for stationary.
I finally finished knitting my eternity scarf and it’s particularly beautiful in my humble opinion. 210 cm. It took ages. I’ll be knitting Aran jumpers in no time. I’m naturally gifted at needlework.
I will be painting and listening to music this evening. My mom eyeballed a rough painting I did and wanted it for her bedroom so I am redoing it on canvas for her. I think she’s mad. I paint like a ten year old. And my friend is calling in later, I already stocked up on chocolate, salads, tea and milk for the post weekend analysis.
My story is still muddled. I’ll have to submit two pieces next month instead. Writing is going well, I have several ideas floating about and I’m considering how to make them a little sexier, make them pop. It’s funny how people imagine writing necessitates mentally unhealthy situations, like trauma or an addiction. They do add empathy into one’s writing but it’s certainly not good for a consistent work ethos. I simply cannot edit when I’m anxious or depressed. I don’t have the ability to concentrate and editing is when the magic occurs.
And I am happy. I had a horrible seven or eight months. I went a bit wild after my breakup, fell in love with someone utterly wrong for me, my mother’s illness really scares me, I lost all my closest friends, menopause is impending, and there was another horror I can’t mention here. A series of other worries seem to pile up. But I am content. Very much so.
As for the friends, I didn’t realise how wrong they were for me and I didn’t realise I had other, better friends who accept me at my best and worst. My mother will surely be diagnosed soon and is very shortly going for a lung biopsy and, hopefully, will go back to her vibrant, energetic, happy self. Menopause can kiss my arse, I’m am not going to worry over something that hasn’t happened yet. I have settled back into normality, my own version of it, quiet evenings, long walks, I’m not going out all the time, just sometimes. Like next Friday with Linda, there will be frocks and dancing and laughter, hopefully I won’t creat chaos and will stay away from mischief. I have so many hobbies I’m always busy with a project. And I’m quite proud of myself, I have a very strong character and I realise it’s okay to say that. I really helped someone recently and I’m glad I did it though it was hard with tough choices to make.
Having the person you love treat you like dirt is awful but I don’t want to be with someone who is weak. Every person is a lesson and now I want a proper man who is audacious, kind, stubborn, smart and wilful. Definitely odd. I like weirdos. I’m nurturing and look after everyone so someone to look after me would be nice. I’m staying celibate though. I’m shit sick of men, every one of them seem to have mommy issues and aren’t the slightest bit emotionally evolved. I’m sure I can reach a year, it will be an experiment. I’m determined. It will be hilarious. Although I am harbouring a serious crush which may test me, I am certain I can do it.
That certainly veered drastically from writing well is related to happiness. I guess what I am trying to say is that getting out of bed can be the most difficult thing to do sometimes and facing up to issues, trauma, personal demons is the true test of one’s character. Living well, being happy, means you have to really like yourself, allow that you can and will make mistakes. Big and small. Take joy in little things such as a book, laugh at the small humans in a playground, nature, meet your crazy friends, get a cat (gratuitous picture of Claude below), rediscover activities you enjoyed in your childhood. And slowly, slowly, you mend. Then, one day, you wake up with a happy heart again. You’ve survived another battle and become better for it. You can focus on your work again.
Look at this beauty I found in a secondhand bookstore this week
I think that’s it. I was a busy little beaver this week. It’s been very interesting this week with the general election. Now to look forward to a few days of solitude before madness starts again with work on Thursday night. I think this is going to be a great week. I have a good feeling about it.
And, because I have some pride and the last picture was shit, here is the teapot cosy on an actual teapot….