Woke up at 3:00 am with an idea and a possible solution to keep me writing everyday. Writing is like any discipline, one must do it everyday if able. My poetry book 66 Laps, was based on the first ‘mile of life’.
Perhaps a good companion would be 366. An entry per day for the next 366 days. I know what you’re thinking. Oh, she’s going to ‘Blog journal’ for 366 days. Yay. It will become annoying and irritating. It might. Well, let’s see where it takes us. Worst case scenario I can print out every entry for a compilation of something. Give to Ravi and call it a day.
My dream long ago was to have my own column like an Ann Landers (which is so old school), so maybe I just create my own.
Day 1. I’m sad and tired. It’s been a theme for the last 1.5 years. I have moments of happiness and joy, but my under-current, my base line feeling is a deep breath of sadness. My father died in 2019 and I’m just still sad. I walked this journey mostly alone as my mother hadn’t been married to my Dad since 1987, probably hadn’t spoken to him since end of the 1990s, and my sister and I have different fathers. His youngest brother died before him. I had my Uncle, the oldest, but that was pretty much it, next to my son, for blood family walking this journey with me. My last Smith Uncle resides back east. It was lonely and sad and uncomfortable.
Besides the death of my father, I turned 50. I had been told you’d be tired of many things by then. I am. After turning 50, I just couldn’t do, say or be so many things I thought I could. I grew tired of spending time with people I didn’t want to. I grew tired of returning phone calls to people I didn’t really want to talk to. I grew tired of sycophants, insensitive people, those not happy for any of my or my son’s good fortune, those with lazy or entitled attitudes. I grew tired of the subtle ‘societal measures’, how are you? Where are you living now? Are you still single or are you married again? Do you have money now? How much are you working? Are you as intelligent as I am? Is your child in a good school? I was done. I’m still done. And I’m still exhausted.
See you tomorrow…
Fashion Stories & Dirty Laundry 