My back hurts from sleeping on the couch the past 2 nights. I had to pack up a bunch of stuff (long story) and temporarily store it in my bedroom. I've unpacked about half of it, but am still afraid of waking up in the middle of the night to pee (or hell, groggily waking up in the morning to minimal light) and falling over a box. I don't have time to recover from a broken body part.
I did a lot of journaling today. I didn't touch my short story. I trimmed some fat off of it yesterday, so I refuse to say it was a complete waste of a weekend, "creatively speaking."
This was one of the topics I journaled about:
I spend a lot of time alone with my cat. It is precious to me, but I recently used the word "solidarity confinement" to describe my home situation. I suspect that part of it is losing my father. We were a "team" here for years, managing my brother. Now I am without their noise. I miss their hustle and bustle, although it occasionally annoyed me at the time. I block all of my old life out. All of those years. I tell myself "Caitlin, you must look forward."
I have a copy of the book "The Awakening" that I bought simply because of its cover. It is attached to this post, there is no need to describe it in detail. When I first saw this, I was inclined to think she was at a beach just because of the content of the novel - now I am unsure. Maybe it doesn't matter.
I suspect that this will always be my favorite painting. I see myself in this woman - standing alone, gazing forward, shielding herself from the sun. I read her expression as curious, amused. I don't know what she's looking towards. I always got the feeling that she was staring far off into the sea, everything that could be on the other side too far to begin to identify. I wonder if there is something she is wishing she could see.
.... Same here.
Comments