Let it Flow.

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There’s one thing to say when it comes to life.  It’s lovely.  Okay maybe there are numerous things to say, not only is life lovely, it’s trying, it’s beautiful, it’s aggravating, it’s well… life.  Each day holds something different, or if you’re someone like me, each day holds numerous “differents”.  Some days life itself flows through my head, filling it with a million thoughts at once.  Some related to the days activities, some not.  Sometimes I feel like it would drive me crazy, but usually it just drives me to write.

Today’s post will be rambling.  Pure and simple.  I’m just letting my thoughts flow through my fingers today, effectively calming my brain.  It’s needed, and it’s been a while since I’ve purely let everything out.  Everything.  Nonsense and logical alike.

I watched my daughter fingerpaint today.  She had some crazy colors going there for a minute and made some pretty cool drawings which apparently I “must put on the fridge, the fingerpaints will be mad otherwise.”  I just sat there watching.  There’s something so soothing in art itself.  Whether it be fingerpainting, pastels, wood working, or writing.  Something that everyone can understand in at least one moment in their life.  Something about moving your hands along a brush and seeing the colors from in your mind appear on the canvas.  There’s something to the feel of molding clay, feeling the cool texture and pushing and pulling until it’s just right.  Then of course there’s my favorite.  There’s something to be said about pouring your mind out on paper or a blog.  Whether it be random rambling, or secret short stories.

There’s just something about it.  Creating something that up until that moment only you had seen.  Art.

As I watched her paint, watched her eyes light up and she told me what she was creating, I felt bad.   Not for her, but for her so-called father.  While he chose to play house with yet another family, he’s missing out on the beautiful child he left behind.  This little one is so willful, many say like myself, and even though she drives me crazy some days, I am proud that she got my bull-headed personality.  I just hope it sticks.  I feel bad for her father because he won’t know who she is as she’s growing.  He won’t see wonderful things like the thrill that runs through her as she paints.  He won’t watch her sing loudly in the kitchen to some girl-rock (or combichrist depending on the day).  He’s missing all that.  I’m okay with that, I just oddly  enough feel bad.

Respect.  I used to say I would start out with no respect for a person until then earned it.  Eventually I threw that idea in the trash and started everyone out on the same plate.  This being said though, I do NOT let people walk all over me.  If you can’t figure out how to act like an adult and treat me with respect even though you don’t particularly like me,  you can bet you will get a shit-eating grin from me and put in the ground.  Today I let that slide out of respect for other people, but that was it.  That was the first and last time.  If you complain about me not being adult enough to want to have dinner with you but then give me snotty attitude when I did nothing to you, you will not get any respect from me.  Then again, you already lost that when you chose the sob story of a single mom’s woes and then spend all your time at the bar instead of with your kid.  So I guess you didn’t lose anything.  Out of respect for myself I will be nice, but one more trip up, one more smirk, and it’s fair play.  Respect, either you give it to me freely, or I’ll take it, and ask around, you won’t have fun.

I get absorbed into my surroundings.  My mood reflects my surroundings, I would say 90% of the time.  If I’m outside in the quiet forest, then I’m calm and collected.  If I’m surrounded by noise and clutter, I’m on edge and nervous.  That’s one of the reasons I’ve been working on my house.  It’s come a far way.  I’m finally to the point where my house brings a sense of tranquility and puts me at ease.  Especially with the new colors.  I’ve always been like this.  I’m glad I’m getting a move on on the work here.. because frankly winter is just too long when I don’t see the green of the trees and grass, when I can’t lose myself in the forest preserves.

I don’t mind winter all that much, but after a couple of months I start missing the spring.  There’s nothing like sitting outside with your eyes closed.  Just listening to nature and feeling the breeze.  There’s nothing like seeing brand new flowers and plants come up as well as the brilliant colors of summer.  Winter is peaceful but so dreary.  The days that the sun is out makes it worthwhile, but I think I’m addicted to the green colors and blue skies.

Tomorrow is Remicade Day.  I’m on the 8-week-schedule now, thankfully, I’m sick of hospitals.  So tomorrow morning I’ll go get pumped full of my mouse juice and nap in those uncomfortable infusion chairs.  Way better than being sick all the time.  My Crohns is almost completely in remission, it seems like the fistula is finally healing.. only a small twinge of pain here and there.  Thank god, surgery was looming and I was damned if I had to miss work.  I’ll take the long term effects if I can just live my life now.  The only thing I have problems with is the fatigue.  I just get so tired, so easily.  Hopefully by the time spring rolls around I can get some energy back.  :)

 

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