Good morning everyone,
It’s a grey day here in,
my beautiful ugly.
The breeze is lifting the curtains,
it’s pleasant.
I am sitting on the couch,
working.
The cat woke me,
very early,
he’s bad that way.
He started at ..
not quite sure what time,
actually,
but, by 6h30,
I had given up,
on getting anymore sleep.
I made some tea,
I sat with my thoughts,
the cat lay next to me snoring
I made some notes,
for work,
and for a writing project,
I am cogitating.
I looked out the window.
I did not pick up the book,
I have been reading,
it was right there,
by my side on the couch,
but I had read lots of it,
yesterday.
I needed a break.
The book is Untamed,
by Glennon Doyle.
I think it’s a brilliant book,
a lot of it speaks to me,
much does not,
I have shared quotes,
from it on Facebook,
I have had mini discussions,
about it,
with friends.
It has great insight,
about the socialization,
of women,
the taming of women.
Much of it is about,
parenting,
I am not a parent,
much of it,
is about marriage,
I have never been married.
But, mostly,
I didn’t want to pick it up,
because,
my most recent relationship,
is in mutation,
from what I had hoped,
would be a great love,
to friendship,
and the previous,
relationship,
ended without real closure,
and not much hope of,
any ever coming about.
So, I think perhaps,
a good Trollope novel,
and burying myself in work,
might be good
đŸ™‚
I have been making,
short videos,
on my phone,
and posting,
on Facebook.
I started making them,
in early May,
I think,
I was bored,
but, mostly
I wanted to talk,
to the woman I hoped,
would be my girlfriend.
I wanted her to see me,
in a non static way,
bring her on my walks,
show her my neighborhood,
they were notes,
love notes,
of an everyday variety.
Other people watched them,
and some liked them,
I spoke about my upcoming,
fifty-fifth birthday,
they were free form,
I just pressed record,
and off I went,
I didn’t edit them,
I don’t know how,
I spoke from the heart,
about the weather,
music,
what was on my mind,
I attempted to woo her.
So, yesterday,
I said I would not be,
making videos,
for a while,
because, I didn’t feel,
I had much to say.
My friend,
said she would miss them,
that they were like postcards.
Couldn’t I keep doing them?
Couldn’t I curate it,
talk about all the other things,
that were going on in my life?
My life was interesting.
My job, my discernment,
all the other,
things that make me,
me.
This hadn’t occurred to me.
It hadn’t occurred to me,
because that isn’t my way.
I vlogged about,
what was foremost,
in my heart, in my thoughts.
When I write a blog post,
it is much the same way.
I write about what is,
making me sad,
making me angry,
about what is annoying me,
about what makes me happy,
about what excites me,
I write what is imperative for me ,
to write.
My blog isn’t 100 percent,
spontaneous,
it is written after all,
but,
the vast majority,
of my posts,
are written in one sitting,
open heart,
little to no rewriting,
the ones that aren’t,
the ones I fuss over,
aren’t nearly as good,
nearly as real.
It is not that,
it is not polished,
it is not honed.
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. Hemingway
I can curate my,
Instagram page,
but, not my videos,
or my blog,
because they are,
me.
They are not art,
they are not work,
they are me.
Be well you all,
Later girls,
BB
p.s I wrote this two days ago and things are a little different and this was stuck in the ether while life went on, but I am commited to sharing my truth , so here it is, warts and all
