I'm feeling alittle introspective at the moment. I read another's blog, someone I've followed for a number of years, someone I've felt a kinship with no matter what comes out of his mouth (it seems), and someone who inspires me when it seems he is at his lowest. This entry follows the same train of thought of one his more recent.

So I come here and tinker with words. I think back to past entries. The good ones. The ones I actually wanted to read myself. Ones I didn't hate. And I wonder where that girl went. Oh, some would say I'm still me, that that girl is still here, one in the same. But I don't think so. I think she's gone. She might make small appearances here and there, but she's really packed up and moved on.

And I shouldn't be sad. I mean, that girl got into a lot of trouble for her errant ways and ultimately led me to where I am today...alive and kicking. Still waking up each morning, breathing. But I still think back and admire some of the stuff she pulled off. And it feels like the art was better back then. I feel as though I am missing the passion, the fire that used to burn through me to do things. Well, I suppose it really is missing, given the changes that have happened over the past year. I guess that fire wasn't always so good. But it felt like it was.

The old me would have sent an email to my fellow blogger with a suggestion or a remark. Now, I just read and move on. It's almost an absence of feeling. The old me would have done *something*. Now, I just sit back.

Even though moving forward is apparently good, I still spend a fair amount of time looking over my shoulder. It's something I'm known for.

My rationale is this: how can I see where I am going if I don't know what I've done?

Labels: forgot, Gish, habits, how not to be an idiot, late night, layers, Matthew Good, we all lose in the end, writing

...and your love was like a broken bottle.
yep, been slacking on the updating action. I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but I've become enamored with instant potatoes and fat Bing cherries. Not together, of course...but those are the two things that I've been subsisting on lately. It's just the way I eat, if left to my own devices. I would have had it for lunch today if I hadn't been invited to the DEW line, which is cool because they have an indoor smoking room. And tons of new guys that I haven't met before. Nice on the eyes, and it's not like I'm expected to make conversation. Or rather, I am...I just don't. I use the shield of shyness nearly everywhere I go.

I promised photos of the new bedroom. I didn't want to post any after awhile because it seemed like a trite thing to take pictures of, but here's one of the closet and window area.
I just love the angles of this place.

drawing circles in your concret, I will know your every move...
Sometimes, I crank the music up in my office while I'm typing away at whatever I'm working on. In the blandness of the afternoon light, my fingers are a stark colour against the black of the keyboard. It keeps my eyes moving. Makes me miss typewriters. Where your eyes had something to follow, back and forth. I wish I had a typewriter.

I will love you....I won't let go...
Anyway, I'd better get going. I'm planning a walk tonight, did I say that? I will post pictures when....I feel like it. heh.
G.

Broken Bottle - Pete YornUndercover - Pete Yorn

Labels: flowers, forgetfullness, forgot, hawksley workman, music, Nunavut, photographs, photography

This past summer, I've locked my keys in the car. Twice, some kindly stranger saw me struggling and perhaps taking a gander at my large arms, decided to stick their decidedly skinnier arms in through the open window to take a swipe at my keys. The keys would be either dangling from the ignition, or on the passenger side seat.

The other night, I locked them in the car, because I was distracted by my cigarette and the music playing. But really, I may be just saying that because I have no other reason. My mind is constantly elsewhere, and when I am fully 'present' I am still unable to articulate words to questions.

For instance, this afternoon in yet another job interview, I was asked what my idea of Feminism is. Suddenly, I'm at a loss for words to describe this HUGE thing. To me, it's huge, maybe it's even unexplainable because of all the different levels and meanings and ways to subscribe to Feminism. So, that's what I say. Then I say that I think of Feminism as humanistic, that there shouldn't be any assigned roles in Society (meanwhile I'm asking myself in my head, if that's actually true). Then I realise that sounds so familiar, and am able to remember Gloria Steinam's speech from all those years ago....all this while blabbing on about how I can *possibly* practice Social Work from a Feminist standpoint. Which is probably untrue, as I have this thing where I see both sides of every story, no matter what. Which then leads me to sit on the fence on most important issues because I can't make a decision either way.

Don't get me wrong, this entry is not about feminism although it's certainly a good subject to discuss. But damn, if I couldn't answer that question without sounding like some fruit fly off the street that didn't spend four (4!!) years studying Social Work.

Arg.

I can't write love songs on these things....
I know what it is. It's the events of the past 6 months that have taken siege over my brain cells and turned them into moosh. I used to be absent-minded...now I think, I'm just plain absent.

So, I keep losing my keys. I forget what I'm talking about in the middle of a sentence. I also forget that I was going to take Buckley for a walk, 4 hours past dark. My sister is constantly reminding me that Matthew Good will be in London in about 2 weeks (I keep thinking the show is about 4 months away, because that's how everything feels....about 4 months away).

Also, my younger sister who just started University, I am on the phone with her and I know we used to have good, laughing conversations filled with jokes, insider information and what ever else...but now I'm just kind of quiet. I can't think of anything funny to say.

Nothing to be done about it, unless there is such a thing as mental exercises, which sound like too much work. So, I will just wait patiently for the time when I will be just plain distracted as opposed to 'all the lights are on but no one is home' sort of gal.

Oh, let me know if I've forgotten to mention anything.

Hospital Music song (I forget which!) - Matthew Good.

Labels: bipolar, family, forgetfullness, forgot, theory, work