Just words
I just found this I wrote in April and I don't know if I ever posted it...
I think I have a literary disorder. I’m like an anorexic, refusing to allow myself to indulge in writing. Taking every alternative to avoid getting it out. What happens is that it runs through my head constantly. But with no where to rest, it just trickles away and disintegrates.
But I guess I don’t feel skinny like an anorexic. Maybe I’m bulimic. Fat and overindulgent. Full of thoughts and feelings and moments that I don’t, won’t let go of. But I guess then I wouldn’t be fat. So maybe I’m a compulsive eater turning bulimic. Time to start puking all this stuff up.
Have I mentioned I published a magazine? That I’m obsessed with roller derby? That at 1 a.m. last night after waking from a nightmare my now four year old wrapped his arms around my neck and said, “Mama, I’m so proud of you for working so hard.” When I asked what work he said, “Oh, you know, rubbing my back and take care of me and all dat stuff.” Have I mentioned I miss my grandmother? Or that my baby, who is a month and five days from being two, is the most adorable wonderful tiny person I could imagine?
Tonight I’m watching Peggy Sue Got Married on the old VCR in our cabin. I’ll admit it, the movie is a sentimental favorite of mine. Even as a teenager it appealed to me. Going back in time and enjoying what you have. I love how her grandmother calls and she drops the phone, how her sister is shocked when she’s happy to see her. It reminds me to appreciate all this, and to tell the people I love how I feel. Not so long ago I had four grandparents, I am down to one and I haven’t seen her in three months. That needs to change.
I think I have a literary disorder. I’m like an anorexic, refusing to allow myself to indulge in writing. Taking every alternative to avoid getting it out. What happens is that it runs through my head constantly. But with no where to rest, it just trickles away and disintegrates.
But I guess I don’t feel skinny like an anorexic. Maybe I’m bulimic. Fat and overindulgent. Full of thoughts and feelings and moments that I don’t, won’t let go of. But I guess then I wouldn’t be fat. So maybe I’m a compulsive eater turning bulimic. Time to start puking all this stuff up.
Have I mentioned I published a magazine? That I’m obsessed with roller derby? That at 1 a.m. last night after waking from a nightmare my now four year old wrapped his arms around my neck and said, “Mama, I’m so proud of you for working so hard.” When I asked what work he said, “Oh, you know, rubbing my back and take care of me and all dat stuff.” Have I mentioned I miss my grandmother? Or that my baby, who is a month and five days from being two, is the most adorable wonderful tiny person I could imagine?
Tonight I’m watching Peggy Sue Got Married on the old VCR in our cabin. I’ll admit it, the movie is a sentimental favorite of mine. Even as a teenager it appealed to me. Going back in time and enjoying what you have. I love how her grandmother calls and she drops the phone, how her sister is shocked when she’s happy to see her. It reminds me to appreciate all this, and to tell the people I love how I feel. Not so long ago I had four grandparents, I am down to one and I haven’t seen her in three months. That needs to change.
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