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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

I want to take my time. Sunday, June 28, 2009 |

Anne and Dave walking to the ferry

I'm tired, but don't feel like going to bed. I want to keep reading a book I've read before, on the couch in the living room, covered with an Indian print sheet of fabric I picked up in Galway. The quiet cleanliness of the living area and the sound of a light rain pattering on the poplar leaves outside is a balm on what ails me.

I don't really know what ails me. Nothing new, I suppose.

Cigarettes I light, burn too quickly in the ashtray. There isn't enough time from when I wake up to going back to bed to fit in all the leisure activities I want to indulge in. I guess this is where the wish to be independently wealthy comes in.

Grateful for joy in small places.
- I still have a carton of 'Irish' cigarettes left in the freezer.
- there was no ring on his left hand.
- my washing machine works perfectly.
- the water that comes out of the faucet is hot and ready.
- Matt gave us a preview of a track from upcoming album on his website.
- my living room is unpacked and I have a new reading perch.
- the wind billows the dining room curtains in a quiet wispy way.
- the rain.
- I have 14 new-to-me movies to get through.
- Bailey is starting to forgive me.
- my laptop still plays music to me, like a lover.
- I bought a new copy of Micheal Clayton and have watched it 3 times since I got home.

Above photo was taken shortly before we left Inishbofin to get back to mainland in Ireland. I lagged behind, smoking and taking photos. Thinking to myself. Lighting more cigarettes.

I'm told one will be in a funk after a vacation. While feeling not too bad, there are small periods of melancholy that sneak in. I take this to be normal. For me, anyhow. I catch myself planning another big move and mentally tell myself to stop, enjoy the current location as it's only been a couple of months and everything is good here (so far). I feel like a shark that can't stop moving.

I feel like I could like the taste of blood.

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where my people come from. Wednesday, June 24, 2009 |

there's something in the way you move...
I'm back home now, in the Northwest Territories of Canada. The trees burst into green flame while I was away, everything seems to be the same colour as it was in Ireland, minus the almost carnal colours of the blossoms and blooms that entranced me. But there's a lot to be said for velvet greenery, in any case.

As for me and my house, it is not in order. I came home to the quiet chaos I ordinarily live with and when confronted with that, as compared to how other people live, I cringed and shut the door behind me. Surveying the mess, I decide to put off any cleaning duties minus laundry until the weekend, when I can dedicate a day or two to it. A piece of furniture appeared in my absence, it will house my collectibles nicely.

Sometimes, I think I ought to do the dishes daily, and sweep, dust and complete a multitude of household tasks that normal people do. But then I think, screw it. I can live with dust and a few dirty dishes. It just takes a little getting used to, when I came home this time.

Bailey, one of the furry loves of my life, was happy to hear my voice and we just hung around last night watching Michael Clayton and eating Big Macs (he likes the pickles and I had to bring the McD food in from Yellowknife). I slept in my own bed (of 2 months) and liked it. I guess I like it, enough.

But, in my little bruised up purple coloured heart, I miss Galway. I mostly miss the people, maybe. Not sure. I just feel sad about having to leave and come back. I'm not used to that bit. Usually I am glad to see the last of one place and return and/or go back to another place. Remember with me, it's usually about the journey, not the destination.

I dreamnt last night that I saw you...
But I feel as though I really clicked with that place. My footsteps on cobbled stone and tiny doorways where I was constantly banging my elbows and knees. Ireland felt too small for me but I somehow shrank and it seemed to fit.

In any event, I also went to Scotland for a short trip. A sort of pilgrimage to where my father's people came from. The house is still there, ruins of it. But that's where my father's family originated. For the longest time, being a Native Canadian, a First Nations person, I used to long for a place where I could go that part of me came from. I didn't know of this family history until a few years ago, and since then had wanted to go there, touch the stones and feel it.

So, I did.
for dad at Lemnamuic, Scotland.

Champions of Nothing - Matthew Good
A Single Spark Explosion - Matthew Good

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themselves, and nothing less Saturday, June 13, 2009 |

sheep dotting countryside

In Ireland. It really is as green as you would imagine it. I take photos, and agonize over which ones to post to Flickr and gab on about. I've trawled shops and acquired many new things to drape over my body and adorn my face. I even went on a tour bus to check out Irish countryside.

I'm in new Brand heaven, almost overwhelmed with the choice of different kinds of cheese and what to drink in the grocery stores. I don't particularly care for chocolate but seem to be eating a lot of it. Galaxy bars seem to be the fave, so far.

I'm having a great time talking with my old best friend from High school. She's getting cozy in her nest, awaiting the birth of her first child with her awesome husband (who I really dig because he's himself, no matter what). I wish all of mine could be so happy.

Above shot was taken in Connemarra. I wanted to stop and pet the sheep but they probably wouldn't have liked me anyhow. They reminded me of Bailey.

Mexican food for breakfast in Galway, Ireland.

I'm aware I post a lot of photos of myself. Quite the opposite of early journal days. But here's another, taken in a little Mexican restaurant a couple of days ago. My awesome new 70's style sunglasses and air of aloofness that I am eager to break. Aloofness, not sunglasses. I like this photo. I feel pretty when I look at it.

I'm a little awed by the Chanel mascara sample (something I covet but would never pay for) and the little things I pick out in tiny shops all over the place. Indian print fabrics, jangly bracelets and a huge moonstone ring to grace my ring finger on the left hand. Scarves of many colours and some shoes that punished my feet for the past few days but in the face of fashion (and how awesome the shoes are) I wear, still.

All in all, it's been great here so far. I would consider moving here (why not?) as it's a good a place as any. But who knows what the future holds for the next big move. Here I am, barely settled into Hay River, and already planning my next jump. I just need to relax for a little while. In 3 months I'll be ready to start planning.

In any event, must get going. It's bed time here and a new friend is taking my to the Cliffs of Moher tomorrow morning. Can't wait.

Also, a short trip to Scotland on the 17th to see where my father's people come from. Exciting, exciting.

Sleep tight, dear ones.

even here, you cross my mind like a breeze. Happy belated Birthday.

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