and i feel like i've lost a lot of moments.
and the weight of what's passed by unwritten
unpreserved
grows daily.
making the effort of writing that much harder.
so, a few high{lo}lights:
and the weight of what's passed by unwritten
unpreserved
grows daily.
making the effort of writing that much harder.
a chinese finger trap of sorts.
so, a few high{lo}lights:
the last days of work.
and those two lonely car rides
across 90 to a job no longer mine
starting as a cloudy and pessimistic day
ending, finally, with a stretch of sun.
sigur ros brought me home.
at last.
quietly.
a lot of being sick.
under the weather.
a little brother in town.
a little brother back out again.
and in again but not around.
and a whole lot of back and forth.
up and down.
in and out.
i haven't seen an unemployment check
or, more worrisome,
the percentage i relied on
that won't be there any more.
and i still don't know what is going to happen
with my housing situation come june 1st.
but opportunities i wouldn't have been open to me before
are suddenly there.
staring back at me from a flier on pcc's community board:
"seattle international film festival needs volunteers."
now an interview on thursday.
not paid.
but i'll be volunteering at a film festival.
staff pass.
free entry to all the films (i can make it to)
and the galas.
perhaps a glimpse of francis ford coppolla.
so wish me luck.
and thanks for waiting {and asking where i might be}.
it feels good to be back.
i guess my heart has been a little heavier of late.
harder to pick itself up and speak.
but, it's there.
we're here.
and we're back.
and those two lonely car rides
across 90 to a job no longer mine
starting as a cloudy and pessimistic day
ending, finally, with a stretch of sun.
and two goodbyes too hard to say.
sigur ros brought me home.
at last.
quietly.
hopefully?
a lot of being sick.
under the weather.
a little brother in town.
a little brother back out again.
and in again but not around.
and a whole lot of back and forth.
up and down.
in and out.
i haven't seen an unemployment check
or, more worrisome,
the percentage i relied on
that won't be there any more.
and i still don't know what is going to happen
with my housing situation come june 1st.
oh, my darling apartment, how i pray to keep you.
but opportunities i wouldn't have been open to me before
are suddenly there.
staring back at me from a flier on pcc's community board:
"seattle international film festival needs volunteers."
now an interview on thursday.
not paid.
but i'll be volunteering at a film festival.
staff pass.
free entry to all the films (i can make it to)
and the galas.
perhaps a glimpse of francis ford coppolla.
perhaps...
so wish me luck.
and thanks for waiting {and asking where i might be}.
it feels good to be back.
i guess my heart has been a little heavier of late.
harder to pick itself up and speak.
but, it's there.
we're here.
and we're back.
3 comments:
glad you're back :)
That is the downside of having a blog. You begin to see it as an obligation or a duty. So if you fail to live up to your self-imposed goal, you feel like it is a failure.
Well, remember that this blog is here for you. You're not here for it. It is more important that you get into a good place internally, than that you post and tell the world about it.
Your goals of posting regularly are important and I'm not saying anything about blow the blog off and don't take it seriously. Just remember where it fits in the line of priorities. And always remember, we're your audience, not your customers or your bosses. This blog is first and foremost for you.
That said, welcome back!
John: I don't feel obligated to the readers, though I am often surprised there are regulars, etc, but the sense of guilt actually came from myself. Neglect to the stories I'm living. As a preservationist, this is a place for me to not only remember the things that happen, but put them on display. And I say display here not in reference to the audience, but more to the act of putting them into words, in a frame, etc, rather than keeping the experiences as internal happenings. It makes the more concrete. It's sucking the last bit of marrow from the experience itself. Savoring its flavor. Etc.
BUT, yes, I do hear what you are saying about the guilt.
And this is to Sahra too: thanks for the welcome back.
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