Fairies

Here is what I see - a place built around the idea of the small magic moments in life. A place where you not only come to rest and release, but also take a vacation from your normal sphere of connection. Where you meet new people you wouldn't meet in your daily life. Where you let your guard down because you have to check it in at the door. Where you retreat not to hide away, but open up to new possibilities.

There must be a way of making that connection. Opening people up to new ideas/thoughts.

The idea of bartering - refraining from waste and rewarding people in small ways. Showing them that preservation can lead to new discoveries.

Wavering

I recognise now the patterns of my own behaviour. The rising of confidence on a given subject or project, then the dips in my own self-assuredness, accompanied by my lashing out at someone to get them to prop me up. Although I guess sometimes it may not seem that way to the person on the receiving end.

My fear, I know now, is what drives my sometimes unexplainable bouts, the out-of-nowhere whip of my crazy cat-o-nine-tails tongue that almost but cleverly never out-and-out accuses you of anything. But tells you in nuances how you continue to fall short of my expectations.

I apologise, I truly am sorry.

Truth is, this project and the one that I think this will create room for both terrify me perhaps more than I dare admit. Because this is about walking the line and actually taking the deep breath before crossing over. The totting up of all my wishes and pipe dreams, and all that I've worked for up till now, and making it work.

What if when I get there I don't like it?

Maybe what I need to do is take this as I have all my other jobs. Except this one is with my own money.

And I need to get serious about the writing. If I do skive from now on, I will write. It must be my new rule of life. Sacrifice one thing for another. Not just be a sloth at home.

Where the heart is

So here we are. Back from vacation where we didn't fight nor make love. Small matter. I enjoyed myself and laughed a lot. Sometimes I did wonder for teeny moments whether we would have run out of things to say without the kids around. But all the same, it was nice.

Today is Valentine's Day and I am here, on the net, with you reading on the couch. Somehow it all feels right and warm and safe and sound and loving. The dogs running about the house. It's all quiet and peaceful. Like old age. Being with you is like knowing what old age is. I like it somehow, at least a part of me does.

I know you never wonder how growing old will be like because I think a big part of you is already there. And I like it. Strange. This constant pulling, pulling I feel to break away, and yet, I know there's nothing else out there I'd rather have or hold in my hand. Because here is where the heart is.

Random thoughts on a Sunday

All is peaceful and quiet and loving in the house. I love it when things are like this - on an even keel.

Things with the island are somewhat frustrating. Going nowhere. And sometimes, judging from the conversation with Dyke Interrupted, perhaps a little out of my reach.

These are the times when I wonder if I should just forget it all and keep slogging at the 9 to 5 because it's easier and simpler and more obvious. I can see the future on this path, it's fairly prosperous and safe. And I could still afford my holidays and keep you and I and our life fairly intact.

Then I would just have to acquire more discipline and keep plugging away at my writing with a bit more gusto. But I am a slacker at heart.

Maybe all I need sometimes is a space to write. A place where I can retreat to, just you and me and the dogs, no Wonder Boy and his loopy space cadet of a girlfriend to make empty conversation with. No psycho lesbians up the road to gossip about and be upset about.

Maybe if we don't find anything worth pursuing on the island, I should just buy a piece of land somewhere that we can run away to. And call our own. And be at peace with the dogs and I can write and you can be alone with your games and books. Because even on our weekends we are dsistracted with company.

Boy Genius rang me over the weekend to report his sighting of a Roomba knock-off. He's such a dear. He warms my heart. I love, love, love him at this age, innocent and precocious.

We are off on our holiday next week, sans dogs, with kids instead. It will be a welcome break.

I re-read the stuff I wrote some months ago in my boredom at work, and I was surprised at how good it was.