Remind me to pay attention to my life some time. I’m wandering around feeling so strangely chaotic that it’s original and I like it. Days spent up with lovely people, light-haired wunderkins of various sorts, they make me feel better. I’m in trouble when I come back, I’ve got to write my own warrant, figure out the limits of behavior that I’ll deal with. There’s nothing says there’s rules but me. I’m thinking about druids, the magic of interaction and knowing what someone is thinking without having to ask. My always question, my always want to know.
I told someone once that “it feels like love when someone understands you, but it’s not.”
Why do people listen to me? I’m too young for this. Again. It’s my best way to be because it’s what I know how to do.
I don’t know who’s coming tonight. An eclectic group of people have slated their acceptance, but I can’t recall the list. I don’t know who’s going to show or the social stew for which I am destined. I should be cleaning but it occurred to me to write, so I’m writing. A slow waltz dance with typewriting fingers and the pain shoots up my arm again. It’s a hard thing, but needful. Priorities set, match, and love. Piano key quiver of the salutation letter.
I’m going to have the oddest set of obligations when I get back. There’s a relationship that needs a looking into, a years long flirtation that may have ripened into something to pluck. It’s an odd realization, but something that had to happen sometime. It’s my year for discovery and pleasant chance, might as well be now, might as well be before I leave for good. These are just practice runs, my first forays into having a tight-rope life. Somewhere to look down from, a number of days I can balance. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t play the game when it came to me. I can wait, but now I don’t want to sometimes. My patience, peculiar as it is, is shifting into something more esoteric. It feels like a run of notes, scaling past the prime number to somewhere unknown.
Dear me.. It’s solstice..