What? I'm not sure I know how to do that lol. Especially since I don't see my complaining as complaining, I see it as ventherapy, venting therapy. Seriously, you know I've explained it many times i many ways (too many?... ahhh, perspective), how writing has always been the way I sort through thoughts and feelings and figure things out and find peace and happiness and euphoria, even. Not so much prosperity, but hey, two out of three, you know the song.
Writing is also my best friend. The words listen to me when no one else does. It allows me to embrace the illusion that I might actually have a life of meaningful abundance and emotional sharing. Nobody comes near me on the inside, so I have these voices in words. Some people have voices in their head, mine come out in my written gardens. You see, fundamentally, I am a figment of my imagination and have been for a very long time.
From the beginning, it's all about love, but my mind comes up with stuff out of the blue, but most of what I wrote are like songs you never heard.
I used to babble myself into silly bliss, a kind of brilliant madness, but I don't give myself the time to do that anymore and nobody seems to care anymore. Used to be I had dozens who read me and they love the babbling, even when it was bullsugar, or so they said. The kids ignore me. From myspace to facebook, its all the same, but different. I have no clue what to say sometimes, This blogging life, it's all over the map.
Nobody appreciates my mind these days.
The kids are back. Wonder if this is the start of another long weekend. I guess I've got to get used to living with kids since they seem to be here more than half the time. Awkward bathroom trips, early to bed nights, so much for having a game night, but then, I am ok with that. I'd just like to feel like I wasn't disturbing kids when I make my midnight snacks or take my late night showers or watch TV or listen to music. I'm a night being, after all.
Actually, the last few days I've had this living room on this side of my house to myself. I wonder if TA reads this. I hope he's not offended if he does, ummm, I mean, if you are reading, no offense, I just need to pour all my thoughts and feelings out in order to sleep at night. You may have noticed that it doesn't always work. That's why I fall asleep in the recliner from time to time. It's sometimes some of the best sleep I get. The mind I live in doesn't turn off. It just keeps rambling on and sometimes wakes me up and I used to write in my sleepy wakefulness (see Hook, again), but now I eat more than I write. I really should write more, it's much healthier.
It's all there, if you care (and love words). Even when it's not my my mind.
I haven't written to anyone in a long time, sort of. I write letters to friends that are not read, but some end up in blogs. I've got more than a hundred of them, in case you didn't know. So anyway, if you are reading, thanks you for understanding and sharing space. If you are not reading and this change of spacial sharing is just coincidence, well, never mind.
LOL, Gilda Radner is a fav. So is self mockery, in case nobody noticed.
trying to be human and meaning no harm. I just want some space I can call mine and I'd rather share a bigger space than pay more for a smaller space. Ideally, I'd like the two master bedroom floor plan and this small bedroom far off bathroom deal is challenging. Having the living room gives me the sense of having a home. As much as I don't want to move again and I don't want to spend more than I am spending, part of me would like to move into a space with two master bedrooms if we can find one.
Life is better than 95% f the people in the world. Maybe 98%.
Even if nobody shares.
Narf :)
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