Panic, PMS, David leaving tonight.
Don't know what to do next, don't know what I want, only got a vague idea of where I'm going and the vaguely reassuring notion that no matter what, I'm doing pretty good.
All this upset is an excellent opportunity for learning, progressing, growing as a monstre, right?
I'm going to keep telling myself that until I believe it.
Elodie came by with her son William, poour little thing barely a month and a half old, has no idea yet what it means to be born on my birthday.
We had a lengthy discussion about the merits of motorcycles and beer while he pulled on my hair and stuck his gooey fingers to my glasses.
Elodie'll be back at work here by February 6th. Dunno if I'll still be holding on to this desk with wobbling teeth then and frankly it isn't in my hands for a while to come yet.
Soon as it is, the usual proverbial shit will be hurtling through the air with a stench of singed hair and ozone, until then I got some personal goals to focus on.
Earning an upgrade from "recreational style" rollerblades to "freestyle" skates being one of these. Found some tips and techniques and some short term goals.
Who knows, maybe a certain modicum of athleticism isn't out of reach for a geek.
In the meantime, the consecutive ringing e-mails for last night's dinner party containing sincere thanks and even more sincere praise for the sheer wonder that is David's persona were a terribly warm and yet still somehow stinging thing.
You will forgive me then, if I skip out on the careful articulations of steamed brocolli and baby potatoes and rolled charcuteries and champagne-with-ruby- port aperitifs and three bottles of aged wines and balsamic salads and strawberry tart, on the sound of eight people raucously singing Madonna tunes through the ages, Cognac and Poire Williams swishing in their after-dessert hands...
There is a hole in my gut that is quite alright and far from anything that could ever kill me, it just somehow... Dampens the stars a hue or two, tonight.
In other news, while I disagree with the use of the word "hero" in the following paragraph, I very much like the rest of what it is reminding me.
I still have a lot to learn, and yesterday's introlerance of Alanis Morisette singalongs is an indication of my own inner weaknesses:
"And who is the hero? Primarily one who has conquered his fears. One can be a hero in any realm; we never fail to recognize him when he appears. His singular virtue is that he has become one with life, one with himself. Having ceased to doubt and question, he quickens the flow and the rhythm of life. The coward, par contre, seeks to arrest life's flow. He arrests nothing, to be sure, unless it be himself. Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or as heros. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil can become a source of beauty, joy and strength, if faced with open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such."
-- Henry Miller
Well, almost. Sure as hell don't mean I'm going to stop fightin'. Ever. But maybe, sometimes, I'll look before I pick the fight.