Today I felt productive. I’ve ranged from sleepy defiance to joyful productivity. Etudes of purpose and wonder streaked through my core. (I make my life a musical.)
I wandered through Target, not really caring if I looked lost. In fact, when one of the Target employees asked if she could help me find anything, I sweetly replied, “I’m just wandering.” Her quick, quizzical look was replaced by acceptance and she moved on. ( I ended up finding a great deal on Lean Pockets -5 for $9 (I only bought 2) and Campbell’s Chunky Soup — $1.52.)
A song’s been with me since yesterday’s knitting group. In the video, one half of Montgomery Gentry looks likes he’s going to cry every time he’s shown singing. But there’s something natural and easy about the song…
Wake up in the morning
Get to living my life
Making sure that I’m all that I can be
Went to church on Sunday
There was a moment that came
I swear it was like the Lord spoke right to meSo now I’m slowing it down and I’m looking around
And I’m lovin’ this town and I’m doing alright
Aint’ worried ’bout nothing except the man I wanna be
I’m thinking it’s time to be livin’ the rhyme
When I’m singing a song about nothing but right
And it’d sure be nice if you would roll with me
This song is my day.
My living room curtains drape the floor beneath the window. They’ve been knocked down more than once by an overzealous cat and now bare the marks of cat puke and hairball. I very much want to rehang them but wonder, “how long will they last?”
I feel physical, connected in all forms: mental, emotional, and physical. My right calf is still sore from yesterday’s intense pre-dawn cramp. However, I feel fluid, like a dancer. My body wants movement and remembers poses and strength not often practiced. Stretch, lean, pose. Somewhere inside I am lithe and lean, protected by a thick, soft rind of fleshy curves. My world is highly sensual and I hum on the borders of need.
I’ve just finished reading “The Time Traveler’s Wife” and I’m a bit restless with the digestion of a completed story. It’s not a book that makes you giddy or warm. It breaks from reality (the main character is a time traveler and his wife meets him for the first time when she is six and he is 42) but it is very much real. It does not wrap itself up easily into a formula common of fiction. It lives. Perhaps this book is partially at fault for my current state of self-awareness.
Now Sunday wanes into evening and the work week approaches. It will be a 4 day week at the office for me–I’ve taken Friday off for no reason in particular. Poor Sunday night is wonderful and tragic. I enjoy the cozy family feeling but dread the anxiety of living under someone else’s time. The pace is fast, but I’m thankful for the weekend and my chance to slow it down and look around and remember who I am.
la la la la la laaaaaa la la la laa lalalaaaaa la la la la la
So, how was the book? Did you cry? I’m taking it on vacation with me as I’ve found no time at all since I started it to read it further.
The book was good, it’s definitely worth reading. I did cry, but only at the end.
I only cried at the end as well.
This blog scares me. It’s wordy in a weird way.
“wordy in a weird way”
hmmm. it was pieces of a Sunday.