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A twenty dollar note lay on the sidewalk when I stepped out of the gate yesterday. I picked it up, waved it to the world and asked whose it was. Nothing replied, except a bird perched on a clothesline. It looked at me, then flew to the ground. That wasn’t much help. I won’t spend it, though. One intrigue deserves another.

I’m back from London, my brother-in-law, sister-in-law and her boyfriend. The car has been picked up, and I’m taking a break from unpacking. Having a place of my own feels really nice. I have too many holidays and feel guilty about the money; must talk with J about it.

Where has June gone? July and August will follow in like fashion. Then September and some October will afford me breath, before another (unconfirmed but likely) big move. Which reminds me, I need to contact the embassy.

Then it’ll be February 2017, me still wandering around 2010.

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1.1. car repair is shifted to next Monday. Not a big deal, I’ll drop the car, take L4 back, pick it up on Tuesday or Wednesday. That’s alright.

1.2. need to withdraw money today. And pack. And reserve ember yard for 7pm.

1.3. J will get me on Friday so I don’t need to buy a train ticket.

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2. My current hypothesis: the more unknowns I’m holding, the yuckier I feel. Therefore, for the events I can control, the quicker I square away the snails, the better I’ll feel. Organized me is peachy me. Insert usual caveats about my uncontrollable life and the danger of swinging to extremes.

Story- I was feeling awful about this week until I sat down to fill in my blanks; I do appreciate confidence rather than stress.

3. The boat ride under night sky and stars was nice.

Sunday
I enjoyed a concert last night, the 5 piece band better than choral and orchestra. The pianist looked from my last row like a leaner tony stark, and his concentration at his instrument was attractive. There’s something about mastery and intensity I find a siren song.


Monday
Yesterday was two years to the day Pearce began. that seemed important, so I did some counting and listing. Turns out I’ve been on crazy/melt since december 2013. and. no matter where I am, people ask me how marriage is for me
It’s always a fumbled reply

likewise, it’s always painful to name the ‘we were supposed to’s, so i won’t. it just, I’m a little tired from the same disappointments happening for the same reasons, valid though they may be.

I think leadership is attractive. Standing on what leon called lava sand- so hot that we needed socks to play- listening to the handler giving positions, confident and wholly focused; there’s just something about a sport’s man’s eyes when he’s intent on his job, eyes that look downwards at the sand in his mind running through the various positions, possible variations, viable options. I guess I find concentration sexy. More findings. I’ve been looking at my tanlines and they’re fascinating. Red against white, and splotchy pale against a sea of brown. I wonder how it works.

https://chelism.blogspot.fr/2007/10/yesterday-was-busy-busy-day.html?m=1

clearly, some things remain. i would also very much like to merge both old sites with this.

But nothing is joining very well tonight, so disorganised it shall be.

I would like to write the heaviness away, but there’s nothing that hasn’t already been said in as many forms I have thought up and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I am lost for words.

I’m tired I wish the disappointments would stop I have trust issues. They say children bring out the worst in one and I can’t imagine continuing in circumstances worse than this. I don’t know how my mom didn’t give up on us and life.

I know I don’t have much burnt scrapings at the bottom of my pot to justify the ache but little bits adding up are a kind of sadness too, aren’t they?

I’m tired of nights staring at a silent phone and bracing myself for more to come. I’m tired of my awkward laughter when people ask me what it’s like to be married the way I am. I’m tired of trying to be good and failing. I’ve been sad for so long.

It’s okay to be sad, it’s okay to be lonely, it’s okay to cry on nights alone. I’m fine with not being okay. I just want to be brave. Sitting in the darkness wetness finding their way down my face. Writing this in the bedroom controlling myself because there are people around and someone might come in. Hoping for the day I am found better than I have been.

My night thoughts are awful but if I don’t write them here where can I go? This is a safe place. I’m not looking for things to change if it’s not time but I would like to say on record that, Father, I hurt.

There is no resolution but I seem to have written myself quiet. I’m going to take a shower and see what happens, if anything.

Father

June 6, 2016

Gave You my anxiety wrapped in brown paper and said
“Take it”
I didn’t know what You’d do or replace it with but I didn’t care.
I said it’s Your problem You’re the one who told me to cast my anxieties upon
You

Somehow sleep came and I woke to a message
I said forgiven and You surprised with a sudden weight of approval

Anxiety forgiveness Your approval
My choice between future glory or pseudo okayness
The glow is fading I’m almost back to normal but I wanted the record
Of Your approval
That made my cost worth it

And hope that I can do it again

Awaiting me

June 4, 2016

Made a mistake that wasn’t a mistake except this is the world I live in
My friend’s miscarried a baby again and she talks bravely about it
Yet another hopes to see her parents in June cuz if they don’t they’ll have to wait till December.

Transient workers count too, but they don’t in Singapore.
23 or 36, sickly mothers or broken husbands, that one worked without pay for six years.
I think her employer went to jail for nine months. Employer’s husband never knew till she got caught.

I tell mommy it’s alright John fell asleep on the phone last night
There are children living through war
I ate escargots tonight and girlfriends sent support on whatsapp-
It’s not a raw deal I’ve got.

Made a mistake that wasn’t a mistake except this is the world I live in
I could cry foul and consider myself justified but this is not the world I believe in
I wait for a better one to come a city built by God’s hands
I wait for reunion between the dearly missed and the living before the throne and healing tree
I will see His glory fill the temple and the sun take its leave
I will worship along the rest falling at his feet

He has taken my mistakes and washed them with his blood
There is no other god beside him, no, not one.
I will see the world to come.