"and I don't know how to slow it down, my mind's racing from chasing pirates..."
Oh Lord, one of those days. I want to write and my sentences lead me down a thousand dead ends. I’ve turned around after several of these and now I just give up. Here’s the wall, here’s me.
At my wall, there are many bricks. There is the height. I inspect and voilá, I see how the uneven layering of bricks make holding spots for my climbing little hands and feet. They itch. Stay or go? Stay and go.
My body feels like bricks and estranges itself from me. I can feel its pieces and many complaints that unnerve me and don't let me quite at ease. I'm not sure who she is, really.
Here's me. Don't know what this image is about but it was the chosen one today.
A pause, a moment, a haze.
Life has taken a different pace now that I’ve discovered climbing over things (and sometimes climbing back over). I suspect that like any newfound ability in the hands of the layman, I am overusing it, in my enthusiasm and glee. The word criteria or direction don’t resonate much, for the impulse to climb walls is everywhere and my muscles are getting stronger and stronger. The ability to push and pull, towards and away.
However, in this wave of change I still don’t know quite well where I am or how these changes have affected who I think myself to be. It’s shaky business it is, identity. I believe I’m walking around a bit hazy, forgetting things as essential as locking my car. For the first time since I can remember I actually wrote my dad an e-mail with one piece of news after another, I impressed myself.
There are people who posess the ability to recognize me for who I am now, and it amazes me how much, how surely and how calmly I love them.
I search for comfort in little acts that ground me in my newness. Drinking hot beverages in all sorts of ways has become one of them. Writing in this thing, another. But that's about it. Everything else is irremediably brand new and, in such, I inlclude the color scheme.