metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - I have not updated in soooooo long. I am not sure why. Probably a function of my whacked out personality. I do the same thing with correspondence. I will be very good and write letters and answer them very promptly, and then - I will just not do it anymore. For months. And months. Very odd. It is always a new years resolution - I will be better about keeping up with my personal correspondence. Well, hell. My last living brother had heart surgery last Friday. I was not acutely concerned. I fully expected everything to go well, but my other brother died in recovery after heart surgery just last August. So, this bothered me a little more than usual. But he come through it ok. I received a letter from Great Aunt Deen. She will be 101 this year. Her eyesight is failing, but she is still up and around. She also says she is dropping things, so I guess that is part of getting old and �losing your grip�. She will be my correspondence for the day, because I am going to answer her letter! If she, nearly blind and unable to hold a pen, can take the time and write me, I should be able to write her back? Doh, ya think? I have been thinking that life is a metaphor - but for what? That�s the part I haven�t figured out yet. Let�s just say that life IS a metaphor. Then the things we are upset or happy about are not REALLY the things we are upset or happy about. That is usually true for me. I am an odd bird. I have been thinking about love. Love requires commitment. Not the legal or public commitment, but commitment to love itself. If you do not surrender wholly to love, you do not experience it in it�s entirety. What more sublime feeling than to be totally immersed in love? Treacherous waters, however. I have been there and back. Then I tried to go in holding on to a string - you know just so I could find my way out without being half dead - but the string held me back and annoyed love, so I had to let go of it and just remember that although when or if love leaves, as it did before, I will find my way out, and perhaps I will remember part of the way. I should probably start counting the weeks/days until my in-laws invade for 2 weeks. Let�s see�. 4 � weeks. I have lots to do. Haven�t done a thing� Must. Get. Busy. yeah, right. We�ll see about that. I started jumping rope last night. It is a lot harder than I remembered, 40+ years ago. I used to jump rope constantly when I was 7 or 8. ALL THE TIME I jumped rope. How did I do it? Gah. What disjointed, disconnected rambling this is. There is a guy who parks in my assigned spot in the parking garage. This is not a packed garage and my space is on the 3rd floor of a 4 story garage. So it�s not a really great spot. Certainly not one to steal. On those rare occasions when I get in to work on time, I can park in my assigned spot. But most of the time, he beats me in and parks there. The guys I work with and I feign shock and horror that anyone would commit such a heinous act. It�s kind of funny, really. I imagine his being upset and angry when I park in my truly assigned spot, which he has obviously claimed for himself - scented it, if you will. We are now trying to think up a cleverly worded threatening note to put on his car about what can happen to one so audacious as to steal another�s parking spot. Boy. What an exciting life. But if life is a metaphor, I am not really angry about the parking spot, am I? 8:38 a.m. - 2003-05-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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