Is that all you blighters can do

Thinking of Audrey Hepburn shouting, “words, words, words, I’m so sick of words!” lately. I feel you, girl. I hear words all day through. And I think about them in my sleep.

Going from writing 4-5 pieces a month to 4-5 pieces a week has been rewiring all my synapses lately. It makes blogging the last thing in the world I want to do. BUT. In the zen moments at 2am when everything’s flowing, I know that here, in the darkness of my living room, surrounded by notes, I am doing exactly what I need to do…And in the morning, the coffee is bitter, I am still tired, and I have emails to answer. As we all do. 

I don’t think I adequately prepared myself for the steady stream of tasks that blending three different jobs would entail. It all kind of mushed together into a ball of what the hell this week. The weeks of 2016 have gone by faster than time has ever passed in my life, I think, mostly because they are full of things I actually want to be doing.

And I planned out my meals for the first time in a whole long while. I made a pot of rice and beans with corn and chorizo. I reheat bowls of it twice a day and fry an egg to put on top of it. I’m still alive, and it cost $9, and will feed me for over a week. I believe this is what the kids refer to as “winning”.

The thing about being homeschooled is that it usually means you’re very schooled in certain things, sort of schooled in other things, and horrifically unschooled in other things. I know a lot about words, Western art history, marine biology, and the Tudors. Not so much Civics.

(Or Geometry, which I never completed. Statute of limitations is up on that one, right? 9 years ago? I don’t have a high school diploma so you can’t take it away anyway regardless, HA)

I am being immersed in a glorious storm of NC state politics of my own volunteering, which I occasionally regret but mainly enjoy like the nerd I am. But it’s pretty exhausting. The thing about working from home is you’re working in your own head. A peek inside: Hamilton lyrics, tweets about Trump, anger about most other things too, X-Files, and God stuff, all floating around, with a slight headache and like, mandolin-string-tight neck muscles I didn’t even know I had.

I’ve made some new friends. One is named Lambchop. So that’s cool. But I’ve mostly just Facebooking Kate and texting Josh in one long extended conversation that never begins or ends. Excepting Maddie and cousins, a majority of the people I love most are all far away. (Some of them read this. xo) And they all do a damn fine job of loving me at a distance. It’s a comfort to know changing addresses doesn’t undo any of that love. It’s also nice because my previous capacity for people on my mind/friendships maintained was maybe like a 4 per week 2015. It’s definitely down to 1 now. Barely. And I’m moving into not apologizing for that.

Anyway here’s Wonderwall. And by Wonderwall I mean here’s a passage from The Prophet that is timely what with all the politics, and my sloppy examination of my own heart in the context of a big world. And posting it is why I originally came here because WORDS, other people write them so I don’t have to sometimes.

And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?
If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.


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