remotemothering

i hate being away from home during school term
cos that means even if i start work at 10 am,
i will still get up at 6am, to make sure that whoever's looking after the kid is up
make sure the kid actually has breakfast and is on her merry way.
6.15am, i'm stuck with 3 hours of nothing!
chances are the kid has been doing everything with half her eyes open
including being fed breakfast
and still gets to sleep in the car on the way to school
while i'm stuck CLIMBING the walls
trying to make sure i don't pass out and miss my appointments.
what excuse would i have for doing that?
because my sole purpose for the trip would be to make sure i get to the appointments on time.
imagine having to explain to the powers-that-be...
'ummm, why did you not manage to make all your appointments?'
no wait... cos i wouldn't voluntarily share that information
imagine they, the people i was supposed to meet, sharing this information with those in authority...
now then, imagine how much effort it would take for me to explain
that i needed to wake up early to ensure that my daughter made it to school on time and i kind of overslept!
that would sound made up, unreal almost, especially to people who don't have children...
and that's only the morning session..
i still need to make sure that around supper time, i call home again
bath time
supper time
story reading time
sleep time
then i can relax...
of course i'll need a couple of hours that i can label 'mine'...
then prepare for work the next day
this then means that i make it to bed after midnight only to be waking up at 6am once again the next morning
and so it goes again from the top..
by the end of that week i'm as tired as a freaking dog
on my way to real-time-mothering back home

words

what is it about writing?
what is it about sharing your view of the world,
your view of you?
some kind of self-righteous navel gazing
that rubs the ego?
is it?
who cares?
who reads?
i often wonder why i do
in fact, someone recently asked me why i do it
for a moment i hesitated to answer
because it's become such a part of who i am
what i do
everyday - fortunately enough
i do have a job that requires me to write
as my actual job description
so why do i do it?
where did it all start?
my love for the written word
has nothing to do with the fact that i write now
or maybe i should rather say
my love for reading gave birth to the me that writes
i simply cannot remember a time when i couldn't read
words move me in a way that nothing else can
they touch a part of my being in ways that i cannot even begin to describe
words fuel my imagination
far more than any picture can
words allow your mind to wonder
build up your fantasies
to worlds only you can access
(depending on how vast your vocabulary is, i suppose)
so why do i do this?
it pacifies the part of me that often finds itself yearning
for this things way beyond my grasp
it affords me the space to forget
to reflect
without feeling judged
because i can hide behind that writer badge
it fulfils my spirit
grows my soul
i could go on with the cliches
it allows me to be me

lookforme

look for me in between the lines.

go on, search.

this familiar song will always feel like home.
wherever you may find yourself.

look for it in all the melodies you hear.
while you go on your search.

don't look back.
you never know, it might just be waiting around the corner.

go on your search
see what lies ahead for you.

i'll be damned if your path doesn't end up where you started.
right here where you left me standing.

and that, my dear heart, is the honest truth.

on my fake my birthday, i'm spending my day listening to:

madlib's stepping into tomorrow...

my obsessive nature getting the best of me...
i have no problem with listening to the same song the whole day...
pick it apart
dissect all of it
till i can hear only one instrument playing backwards!

sadness,
engulfs this body.
try to lie still.
to silence
the painful grasp
of demons
that have me writhing,
circling the head, the mind, the heart.
oh be still my heart,
be still...