Extra-alone today. The vacant spaces are more vacant. It's hard to write at someone else's computer. Even if all the web pages are the same and the keys are in the same places on the keyboard, it is an unfamiliar stage I am not at home on.
No letter today. It's been a full two weeks since I've heard anything, and three weeks since the last letter. Once I've checked the mail and counted these numbers on my fingers, it's hard to look away from them and move on with my day.
The fact that an extra person was spending a few days hear earlier this week helped keep my mind off the lack of word from DH, and the house is extra-empty now. The back door is open as the weather is a little warmer. An unfamiliar wind sweeps through the rooms I haunt, changing everything to be a bit less familiar.
Earlier, as I sat with my cup of tea, listening to a drone that sounded like an airplane, but got neither closer nor farther away, I mentally compared today to a day last year when I was most angry with DH. I don't even recall what month it was in, but it involved the Marines, naturally.
DH had met with a recruiter in my home town, but didn't like the vibe of the place, so searched neighboring towns for other USMC offices. The one he found was about 20 miles away. When he went for his first time meeting the Staff Sargent who would walk him through the next several months, DH dropped me off at a bookstore.
When we said goodbye, it was early in the evening. My end of the story doesn't have many details or hold much interest. I wandered around looking at books for a couple hours. I sent him text messages after about two hours that went unanswered. Calls to DH went straight to voicemail. Around 8 the recruiting office was called, but no one picked up. I got worried, called my mom (we were staying with my parents at the time). I remember pacing around the store, clutching my phone in one hand, waiting for it to ring.
More strongly I remember sitting outside, at a metal table in the darkness. I was cold and anxious. Waiting for DH's car, then eventually waiting for my mom to pick me up. My mind tried not to go over any of the possibilities of why I didn't hear back from DH, tried not to consider anything but "he's still at the office, they just didn't hear the phone ring."
At home it was getting later. Four hours since I had heard from him? Since he had dropped me off at a bookstore? I talked with a couple friends, heart beating too fast to be tactful or clear about what was going on (sorry about that, Draco).
I think it was around nine when I finally got a text from DH. It was short, few details, he was on his way home. I called him right away, and boy did he get an earful from me. Primarily for texting when there were several frantic voicemails from me, but also for leaving me at a bookstore for four hours and having his phone off.
His end of the story was more interesting than mine. DH had turned off his phone to take a placement test, and had neglected to turn it back on as he talked with the recruiters. They were in a back room with no clock and no windows; he had lost track of time.
I cooled down pretty quickly, especially after he got home and I could use my angry voice and my angry eyes to tell him where he went wrong. But the incident still gave me early negative experiences with the USMC. I do my best not to hold it against them, such things wouldn't be rational. I'm not always a rational creature, though.
Today is not an anxious day. I'm not worried about DH. I know where he is, and I know that I would hear if anything was wrong. It's still excruciating, though, to go so long without hearing from him. Last night I re-read the few letters I've gotten so far. I wish I could re-hear the phone call I got two weeks ago.
At least we're more than halfway through. As of tomorrow I'll be inside the 40 day countdown. Actually, right now I have 40 days until Family Day. Forty-one until graduation. More than a month, but not much more.
26 February 2009
22 February 2009
FUBAR!!
So my computer is totally borked. Hopefully not irreversibly so, but irreversibly under current circumstances and conditions. I will be scarce at least for the next 40 days. After that... who knows.
I'll still have email access and may post from time to time, but I'm mostly looking at this as an opportunity to do lots of art with fewer distractions.
I will miss you, internet.
I'll still have email access and may post from time to time, but I'm mostly looking at this as an opportunity to do lots of art with fewer distractions.
I will miss you, internet.
20 February 2009
Around my neck
Yesterday as I was removing my necklaces to take a shower, this one broke a little. It's just hemp string, so I tie it on every morning. It still fits, but as the string continues to fall apart, I may need to find a replacement. For the string.
Seeing the broken bit on the bathroom counter this morning, my mind quickly hopped along the rails of association and reminded me of the significance of this simple necklace of a ceramic bear bead.
I've had the bead since 2005 and of course there have been attachments to it since, well, it's a bear, and bears have been one of my animals for years. But this particular necklace gained special significance since early April 4, 2006.
I was sitting in my car with DH; it was probably night. We were in the parking lot of his mom's apartment complex, and it was the last time I was going to see my faux-ancé* for a whole six. I had applied to Savannah College of Art and Design, and my parents were taking me back there to check out the school and the city. That was the first time in our budding romance that we had been apart for so long, possibly the second time since we had met.
(*We did a fake engagement for April Fool's day... then got real engaged less than a month later.)
In any case, DH and I were spending a few more minutes together before I had to drive up to my parents' house. I had a couple small tokens to give him before the long separation. One was a ceramic bear bead, twin of my own, for him to hold on to while I was gone. In retrospect I can't tell if it was sweet or exceedingly egocentric. I'll have to ask DH when I see him again. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.
But I still wear mine and think of him, more appropriate than ever, now that we're out of contact again. This separation, however, is much more excruciating than that one was. (And have I mentioned it's been more than a week since I've heard from him? Again?)
As short as the string that bear hangs on is, I like how it lands in the hollow of my throat.
The other, uneven, cord you see is for the other necklace I have with strong DH associations. But they have a much happier origin. The first time he and I went to the local Renaissance Faire, he bought me a pendant. It was from the booth where you pick out the image and the metal, then they use a large pounding contraption to imprint it right there in front of you.
Bear on one side, lion on the other. Even if astrology is something I laugh about, I am a Leo.
I love the weight of it, and how it absorbs heat through contact with my skin. Occasionally feeling something warm and heavy resting against my chest is a small reminder of my husband.
For good measure and a full inventory of the jewelry I wear every day: our rings.
From bottom to top: My wedding band, my engagement ring (the middle one's a sapphire in light blue, bastardized by bad lighting), and DH's wedding band. I'm holding onto it till he's out of boot camp.
Memo To Myself
This was written and posted to my LJ back in August. I planned on updating it for more relevancy to my current situation, but a) I'm not super-rejoiceful right now and b) the original was better than I remembered.
I added the bit about the music. I forgot it the first time around.
I highly encourage any and all of you to follow suit the next time you're in a good mood and write a note to your foul-mooded future selves.
Dear Upset-Annie,
I know you're not there right now, but you will be some day, and I, Happy-Annie, am here to help you out.
How do I know you'll be there? And how can I help you out? The answers are one in the same: I, the current Happy-Annie have been, in the past, Upset-Annie. But I'm not anymore. I'm not you, Upset-Annie. And eventually you won't be yourself anymore.
Remember this, put on some music (even if it's emo) and go draw something. Or snuggle someone (hopefully DH!!!). Start something small and creative that you'll get carried away with.
Don't enjoy yourself too much, though, Upset-Annie. Your days are numbered.
Sincerely,
Happy-Annie
I added the bit about the music. I forgot it the first time around.
I highly encourage any and all of you to follow suit the next time you're in a good mood and write a note to your foul-mooded future selves.
18 February 2009
Before I forget
Thank you to those who leave comments. Even if I don't reply, or you don't hear from me for a few weeks, I do appreciate you taking the time.
Even when people tell me things I don't like hearing or don't want to believe or can't accept at the moment, it's better to be frustrated by communication than frustrated by none. :)
Faithlessness
As we inch towards the second Holy Day of February (date of our first kiss coming up soon), I'm stuck too deeply in the murk of the present to take strength from the glories of the past.
I'm in another one of those long silences where it hurts to keep track of days. I didn't get a letter last week. I did get a phone call, and a surprisingly long one at that, but instead of being motivating, it pitched me down a long slope that I'm only now rolling to the bottom of.
Remember that scene in Princess Bride when first Westly, then Buttercup tumble down a hill? A lot like that, except none of the romantic and hilarious context.
I admit, it's possible that my biochemistry got the best of me and brought out the worst in me over the past few days and I didn't do enough to combat it. Instead I stayed mostly in my room, mostly watching movies and TV shows. Mostly funny ones. I did a lot of sleeping, too.
But that is the past and I shall speak of it no more right now.
What concerns me is the future. My future.
I've lost the faith I once had that I can be a successful artist, or in any way make a decent living on my creativity. When I reach this point, invariably I despair that I will be a productive member of society within the next year.
Feeling useless isn't new to me. It happens whenever I lose direction in my life, which accounts for at least half the time I've been married.
I waited for DH to get accepted to art school.
I waited for DH to find a studio job.
I waited for DH to get into the Marines.
I'm now waiting for DH to get out of boot camp.
Then I'll wait for him to get out of MOS training.
I've been waiting two and a half years. What's another 6 months?
Don't mistake that list for me playing the victim, or blaming him for my struggles. This is just the way things have gone, and I don't think the decisions we made were bad ones. Maybe I wish that DH had worked more at getting into SCAD, but not nearly enough to pinpoint that as the point where my future path evaporated.
For these past few years I've held onto the mantra "keep working on art, keep working on art", believing that I'd find out how to apply or further develop my self-taught skills once things settled down.
But a number of factors in the past week have eroded my confidence that a life of creativity could ever support me. The break in momentum is one. What was supposed to be a week off is now eleven days, and no proof it won't be more. Perhaps to my detriment I've been following the news of the economy and, convinced that art is a luxury, can't imagine people paying me for it when things are so tough.
I'm rootless, with no home, little money, and no constant, frequent, or even predictable contact with another human who can keep me grounded. But I'm not free, either. I'm not single and able to follow my dreams and pursue my goals and pursue opportunities to create a foundation for myself.
I don't think things would be much better back in CA, but on days like yesterday, I'm really not sure.
I'm in another one of those long silences where it hurts to keep track of days. I didn't get a letter last week. I did get a phone call, and a surprisingly long one at that, but instead of being motivating, it pitched me down a long slope that I'm only now rolling to the bottom of.
Remember that scene in Princess Bride when first Westly, then Buttercup tumble down a hill? A lot like that, except none of the romantic and hilarious context.
I admit, it's possible that my biochemistry got the best of me and brought out the worst in me over the past few days and I didn't do enough to combat it. Instead I stayed mostly in my room, mostly watching movies and TV shows. Mostly funny ones. I did a lot of sleeping, too.
But that is the past and I shall speak of it no more right now.
What concerns me is the future. My future.
I've lost the faith I once had that I can be a successful artist, or in any way make a decent living on my creativity. When I reach this point, invariably I despair that I will be a productive member of society within the next year.
Feeling useless isn't new to me. It happens whenever I lose direction in my life, which accounts for at least half the time I've been married.
I waited for DH to get accepted to art school.
I waited for DH to find a studio job.
I waited for DH to get into the Marines.
I'm now waiting for DH to get out of boot camp.
Then I'll wait for him to get out of MOS training.
I've been waiting two and a half years. What's another 6 months?
Don't mistake that list for me playing the victim, or blaming him for my struggles. This is just the way things have gone, and I don't think the decisions we made were bad ones. Maybe I wish that DH had worked more at getting into SCAD, but not nearly enough to pinpoint that as the point where my future path evaporated.
For these past few years I've held onto the mantra "keep working on art, keep working on art", believing that I'd find out how to apply or further develop my self-taught skills once things settled down.
But a number of factors in the past week have eroded my confidence that a life of creativity could ever support me. The break in momentum is one. What was supposed to be a week off is now eleven days, and no proof it won't be more. Perhaps to my detriment I've been following the news of the economy and, convinced that art is a luxury, can't imagine people paying me for it when things are so tough.
I'm rootless, with no home, little money, and no constant, frequent, or even predictable contact with another human who can keep me grounded. But I'm not free, either. I'm not single and able to follow my dreams and pursue my goals and pursue opportunities to create a foundation for myself.
I don't think things would be much better back in CA, but on days like yesterday, I'm really not sure.
15 February 2009
The Holy Days of February
It's hard to be sure if Valentine's Day itself has any special power for me.
Three years ago when I met DH, we were instantly friends, but not instantly exclusive. That Valentine's day I exchanged music with one guy friend, and had another take me out to lunch, but the interactions with DH, through email though they were, really threw off sparks.
Back then DH lived at his dad's orange grove, affectionately called "The Ranch". Early February, being citrus season, meant I was gifted with fresh oranges on one of the random evenings I spent with him. Thus, when Neil Gaiman, beloved author, posted a poem involving oranges on Valentine's Day, I passed it and additional "thank you"s along to DH (of course, then he was just "Dear Friend"):
Soon enough he wrote back to me...
Boy if that didn't make me head-over-heels giddy for him!!
The next day (February 15, 2006) I went back to the Ranch for "dinner, cider, a movie, and catching the sunset".
Yes, he cooked for me. No, it was not a date.
I'm sure it wasn't a date, you see, because we were watching the movie in a bedroom (his brother's... long story), and when I stretched out on the bed near DH, he shifted around so as to be sprawled in the opposite direction, head at the other end of the bed.
In retrospect he swore to me that it wasn't a conscious act, but one he regrets. I hadn't taken it personally (I don't take many things personally), the memory is merely a matter of great amusement for me.
Later that night, after the movie, after more talking, after it was time for me to trek back down to my mundane life at the bottom of the mountain, I said bid DH good night and got in my car. Maybe we hugged, maybe we didn't. I pulled out the long driveway, turned around in the street. As I shifted into gear to go down that long and winding road, DH caught my eye as he ran towards me. I rolled down my window.
The exact words he used to ask me on a date escape me, although I'd wager he didn't use the word "date". All DH asked was if I wanted to go out with him after he passed his driving test. I remember the way I smiled, the way I nodded and said "Yeah, sure", and grinned all the way down the hill.
In retrospect it may be strange that I choose to celebrate this day, February 15. Nothings began that day, but I suppose what started New Year's Eve reached a critical mass, a particular velocity and both DH and I knew it.
Three years ago when I met DH, we were instantly friends, but not instantly exclusive. That Valentine's day I exchanged music with one guy friend, and had another take me out to lunch, but the interactions with DH, through email though they were, really threw off sparks.
Back then DH lived at his dad's orange grove, affectionately called "The Ranch". Early February, being citrus season, meant I was gifted with fresh oranges on one of the random evenings I spent with him. Thus, when Neil Gaiman, beloved author, posted a poem involving oranges on Valentine's Day, I passed it and additional "thank you"s along to DH (of course, then he was just "Dear Friend"):
Roses are red,
Violets are purple,
Which is a very hard word to rhyme
And makes me happy that on February the 14th we don't traditionally have to give each other oranges
Soon enough he wrote back to me...
I'm so glad you liked them! I spent last night trying to think of something to write for you, but I just couldn't come up with anything. So I went and put your name [[replaced here with not-my-name]] through the Wesley Willis Song Generator. Hope you like.
Annie Light really whoops a donkey's ass.
You is so pretty.
You can really rock your ass off.
Annie Rush is excellent.
You are so good to me in the long run.
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
You are my special screaming hyena.
You can really rock Saddam Hussein's ass.
You really whoop a snow lepoard's ass.
You are so righteous in the Holy Ghost.
Annie Light really whoops a camel's ass.
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
ANNIE LIGHT!!!
About 57,700 people like Annie Light.
She makes the crowds roar like a sea monster.
I like Annie Light a lot.
Right on brother.
I like you well.
Rock over London,
Rock on Chicago.
Be a Pepper - drink Dr. Pepper.
Boy if that didn't make me head-over-heels giddy for him!!
The next day (February 15, 2006) I went back to the Ranch for "dinner, cider, a movie, and catching the sunset".
Yes, he cooked for me. No, it was not a date.
I'm sure it wasn't a date, you see, because we were watching the movie in a bedroom (his brother's... long story), and when I stretched out on the bed near DH, he shifted around so as to be sprawled in the opposite direction, head at the other end of the bed.
In retrospect he swore to me that it wasn't a conscious act, but one he regrets. I hadn't taken it personally (I don't take many things personally), the memory is merely a matter of great amusement for me.
Later that night, after the movie, after more talking, after it was time for me to trek back down to my mundane life at the bottom of the mountain, I said bid DH good night and got in my car. Maybe we hugged, maybe we didn't. I pulled out the long driveway, turned around in the street. As I shifted into gear to go down that long and winding road, DH caught my eye as he ran towards me. I rolled down my window.
The exact words he used to ask me on a date escape me, although I'd wager he didn't use the word "date". All DH asked was if I wanted to go out with him after he passed his driving test. I remember the way I smiled, the way I nodded and said "Yeah, sure", and grinned all the way down the hill.
In retrospect it may be strange that I choose to celebrate this day, February 15. Nothings began that day, but I suppose what started New Year's Eve reached a critical mass, a particular velocity and both DH and I knew it.
11 February 2009
I had food. It was DELICIOUS
Catching up on a few things.
This, by the way, is why it's often hard to get any blogging done: Saw a post from my Sis-in-Law on twitter, decided to give her a call (I've made about 9* outgoing calls in the last 3 months, and most of them were to my mom). Based on the call, I decided I need to write to DH, and my brother, and do a round of blog-updating.
(*Oh, and in the process of checking that number I saw I missed a call and had to take a break to google the number, as I didn't recognize it... maybe a wrong number)
I'm not a scatterbrain, I just try to do things simultaneously and trip over myself.
In any case, I'll try put all of those things on hold to recount some of what's happened recently.
Last Thursday I got a letter from DH. It was okay. Short, and not a lot of news, personal or otherwise. I was frustrated and tried not to think about it to much, but buckle myself in for another week of waiting.
Friday, however, I got another letter from DH, and this one was twice as long as the previous. Hooray! I didn't tell anyone I got the second letter for a few days, wanting to spend some time "alone" with DH. It's about time I got over that, though, and scanned/transcribed some of those letters.
Saturday was a quiet day at home. I think. Most of my journaling is still in letters to DH, so I'd have to consult those to know for sure. Certainly nothing noteworthy happened. I watched Battlestar Galactica. I know that much. I also spent an hour or so simply relaxing, listening to music, and working through some things that haunted my mind. (I'll try to revisit this)
On Sunday Mrs. Host, her best friend, and I went for a tour of parks in Nashville. We took cameras and hit up the mosaic dragon at Fannie Mae Dees Park for a picnic. I was especially eager to go along as DH had requested that I send photos of myself, and had none since my arrival in TN.
It was quite warm and there were many people about, but all the plants still looked winter-dead. the contrast made me feel like it was some sort of post-apocalyptic scene.
Then we went to Centennial Park, which was beautiful and full of people playing frisbee.
Ah, no people in that photo, but some nice shapes and shadows on the back steps of the replica Parthenon. Here are some people.
If you promise not to reveal my super secret identity, you can check out more of my photos from the day on flickr.
That night, and also Monday, I dealt with the fallout of taking a week long break from updating Lily and Wyett. Or making progress painting it, either. I've had a growing frustration in the past week as I've struggled with having to change materials (and find replacement materials), and deal with the break in painting/posting momentum.
I sought advice from artistic friends, both on what materials I should be looking for, and also advice on dealing with a webcomic hiatus, which tends to have a very bad reputation (as a concept). Since then I've come to peacefully accept that Lily and Wyett is on hold until I make it to the big art store in Nashville and find hot press watercolor paper, and I'm doing my best to spend the week well.
Monday night I had an amazing experience while drawing. It was too good to bury down in the depths of this post. I celebrated the nice weather by playing in traffic, too. (Walking to the drug store to pick up photos.)
Tuesday was my "Valentines Day". After an afternoon of being terrifically domestic (to the extent that I washed my sheets!), I spent the evening painting something for DH and listening to the All Songs Considered gang chat about love songs. The whole episode.
I included three photos with the painting and DH's letter for yesterday. I also put two stamps on the envelope, just in case,
Today I've done various things as wards against the plague that's hit both other members of the household. OJ before bed, sleeping as long as I needed to, light exercise, ginger tea... Hopefully if I keep this up I'll manage to stay healthy! Having a cold without DH here to bring me soup and food would be quite awful.
This, by the way, is why it's often hard to get any blogging done: Saw a post from my Sis-in-Law on twitter, decided to give her a call (I've made about 9* outgoing calls in the last 3 months, and most of them were to my mom). Based on the call, I decided I need to write to DH, and my brother, and do a round of blog-updating.
(*Oh, and in the process of checking that number I saw I missed a call and had to take a break to google the number, as I didn't recognize it... maybe a wrong number)
I'm not a scatterbrain, I just try to do things simultaneously and trip over myself.
In any case, I'll try put all of those things on hold to recount some of what's happened recently.
Last Thursday I got a letter from DH. It was okay. Short, and not a lot of news, personal or otherwise. I was frustrated and tried not to think about it to much, but buckle myself in for another week of waiting.
Friday, however, I got another letter from DH, and this one was twice as long as the previous. Hooray! I didn't tell anyone I got the second letter for a few days, wanting to spend some time "alone" with DH. It's about time I got over that, though, and scanned/transcribed some of those letters.
Saturday was a quiet day at home. I think. Most of my journaling is still in letters to DH, so I'd have to consult those to know for sure. Certainly nothing noteworthy happened. I watched Battlestar Galactica. I know that much. I also spent an hour or so simply relaxing, listening to music, and working through some things that haunted my mind. (I'll try to revisit this)
On Sunday Mrs. Host, her best friend, and I went for a tour of parks in Nashville. We took cameras and hit up the mosaic dragon at Fannie Mae Dees Park for a picnic. I was especially eager to go along as DH had requested that I send photos of myself, and had none since my arrival in TN.
It was quite warm and there were many people about, but all the plants still looked winter-dead. the contrast made me feel like it was some sort of post-apocalyptic scene.
Then we went to Centennial Park, which was beautiful and full of people playing frisbee.
Ah, no people in that photo, but some nice shapes and shadows on the back steps of the replica Parthenon. Here are some people.
If you promise not to reveal my super secret identity, you can check out more of my photos from the day on flickr.
That night, and also Monday, I dealt with the fallout of taking a week long break from updating Lily and Wyett. Or making progress painting it, either. I've had a growing frustration in the past week as I've struggled with having to change materials (and find replacement materials), and deal with the break in painting/posting momentum.
I sought advice from artistic friends, both on what materials I should be looking for, and also advice on dealing with a webcomic hiatus, which tends to have a very bad reputation (as a concept). Since then I've come to peacefully accept that Lily and Wyett is on hold until I make it to the big art store in Nashville and find hot press watercolor paper, and I'm doing my best to spend the week well.
Monday night I had an amazing experience while drawing. It was too good to bury down in the depths of this post. I celebrated the nice weather by playing in traffic, too. (Walking to the drug store to pick up photos.)
Tuesday was my "Valentines Day". After an afternoon of being terrifically domestic (to the extent that I washed my sheets!), I spent the evening painting something for DH and listening to the All Songs Considered gang chat about love songs. The whole episode.
I included three photos with the painting and DH's letter for yesterday. I also put two stamps on the envelope, just in case,
Today I've done various things as wards against the plague that's hit both other members of the household. OJ before bed, sleeping as long as I needed to, light exercise, ginger tea... Hopefully if I keep this up I'll manage to stay healthy! Having a cold without DH here to bring me soup and food would be quite awful.
05 February 2009
Lover's Song
I spend a lot of time listening to podcasts on my mp3 player. When I went to brush my teeth (before making the last post), I skipped ahead to a music podcast because I didn't feel like listening to anything long or news-related.
That was nice (blues-y). The next one up, as I typed up the other post, was this edition of NPR's Second Stage.
I hear Aidan Moffat singing "da da da daaa" into my ears, and the song, recorded in layers using only his voice (and maybe strings), follows:
The "...." means there were lyrics I couldn't quite make out. But I could understand the important and incredibly fitting words just fine.
You can stream the song from NPR, or download an mp3 of it from this blog.
That was nice (blues-y). The next one up, as I typed up the other post, was this edition of NPR's Second Stage.
I hear Aidan Moffat singing "da da da daaa" into my ears, and the song, recorded in layers using only his voice (and maybe strings), follows:
I sing my lover's song
last thing at night
it helps my heart to rest
it helps me sleep the best
I sing my lover's song
when it is late
bad news but I don't care
I whistle everywhere
....
I sing my lover's song
from far away
....
I sing my lover's song
all day each day
....
The "...." means there were lyrics I couldn't quite make out. But I could understand the important and incredibly fitting words just fine.
You can stream the song from NPR, or download an mp3 of it from this blog.
tired and frustrated
So there were the lows and then there were the mediums... Today was mostly good, I just hit a wall of frustration in the last hour or so. Strathmore papers lost some of my affection today.
Going to sleep delightfully early.
My mom would want me to say I got a letter from DH today. I did, it was delightful. I'm savoring its secrets for a day or so before I show it around. There's no big news, it just feels less like my husband is writing to me if I immediately pass it on to other people.
Should probably read that one more time before bed.
Going to sleep delightfully early.
My mom would want me to say I got a letter from DH today. I did, it was delightful. I'm savoring its secrets for a day or so before I show it around. There's no big news, it just feels less like my husband is writing to me if I immediately pass it on to other people.
Should probably read that one more time before bed.
02 February 2009
Something else good
It has been brought to my attention that I haven't properly said "HAY, I'M DOING THIS, GO TAKE A LOOK". But, hey, I'm doing this thing! Go take a look!
Lily and Wyett is how I'm keeping myself occupied while DH is gone. I post two little watercolor illustrations a day, currently with 19 under my belt (and another 9 ready for uploading). The beginning of the series can be read in order here, and the second chapter (cleverly titled "Day One") starts below.
The chilly dawn seeps over the sill to illuminate a gift
from Wyett: a physical echo of his voice saying her name.
Lily smiles.
Lily also finds a scroll tied with a yellow ribbon.
Wyett had left a map.
Click here to read the rest of Day 1
Lily and Wyett is how I'm keeping myself occupied while DH is gone. I post two little watercolor illustrations a day, currently with 19 under my belt (and another 9 ready for uploading). The beginning of the series can be read in order here, and the second chapter (cleverly titled "Day One") starts below.
The chilly dawn seeps over the sill to illuminate a gift
from Wyett: a physical echo of his voice saying her name.
Lily smiles.
Lily also finds a scroll tied with a yellow ribbon.
Wyett had left a map.
Click here to read the rest of Day 1
Remembering something good
I'm still having a tough time. Did a lot of crying last night, caught in a loop of being so ashamed of how broken up I am without DH that I don't want to have to face him again. What kind of logic is that? How irrational is it to think that he's going to lose respect for me because I'm struggling to remain upright since I miss him so much.
My eyes are still raw from last night's meltdown that I didn't get enough sleep after, so I'm going to do my best not to think about it for a few hours at least. Until I get my feet under me again, I might not be online so much.
But the point of this post is an interlude and distraction.
Trying to write script for Lily and Wyett today, I was flipping through an old journal to find notes I made about it in the past. In addition to what I was looking for, I found the rough draft of this poem I wrote mid-December.
You probably don't have to look at a map to know I played it fast and loose with the actual geography. But the memories are good and real, and good, real memories are what I need right now.
My eyes are still raw from last night's meltdown that I didn't get enough sleep after, so I'm going to do my best not to think about it for a few hours at least. Until I get my feet under me again, I might not be online so much.
But the point of this post is an interlude and distraction.
Trying to write script for Lily and Wyett today, I was flipping through an old journal to find notes I made about it in the past. In addition to what I was looking for, I found the rough draft of this poem I wrote mid-December.
Geography
If our bed was North America,
you'd be the Rocky Mountains
with a firm grasp on the
Mountain and Pacific time zones,
your head is pillowed
in the snows of the north,
your feet (always hot)
jut from the blanket's embrace.
I could lie in
the Great Plain states,
uncluttered, smooth, inviting,
or leave that vacant land between us,
nestling my body
in the Appalachians,
and dream the wall's a window,
and I'm gazing across the Pond.
Instead, I squeeze myself
onto California
(though covers don't reach)
curling against your slopes
with my back to the sea
and feel the gentle, lapping
waves of wind.
You probably don't have to look at a map to know I played it fast and loose with the actual geography. But the memories are good and real, and good, real memories are what I need right now.
01 February 2009
Day of Grace
After a pretty hellish week, I took today off to finish my book, watch some of the SuperBowl, and spend some dedicated "husband time" writing to DH and drawing for him, too.
Here's an excerpt from the book I was reading. Seeing as how everything Edgar Rice Burroughs has written is in public domain, it's on Google Books, too.
For a little bit of context... John Carter of Virginia and Dejah Thoris of Helium (a city on Mars) have been married 22 years. For 10 of them they were together, for 10 he was stuck on Earth, and since he returned she's been in constant captivity (kidnapped), always just out of John Carter's reach. He's always fighting to reach her and has been supposedly killed several times. Right now he's been captured during yet another attempt to free her from the captivity of a king who wants to marry her. John Carter, unarmed, just rushed 50 guards to get to his wife who is being restrained next to the throne of the king (Salensus Oll). She then makes this speech.
I found that so touching I copied it, long hand, into the letter I'm writing to DH.
I miss him. :(
Here's an excerpt from the book I was reading. Seeing as how everything Edgar Rice Burroughs has written is in public domain, it's on Google Books, too.
For a little bit of context... John Carter of Virginia and Dejah Thoris of Helium (a city on Mars) have been married 22 years. For 10 of them they were together, for 10 he was stuck on Earth, and since he returned she's been in constant captivity (kidnapped), always just out of John Carter's reach. He's always fighting to reach her and has been supposedly killed several times. Right now he's been captured during yet another attempt to free her from the captivity of a king who wants to marry her. John Carter, unarmed, just rushed 50 guards to get to his wife who is being restrained next to the throne of the king (Salensus Oll). She then makes this speech.
"Think you, Salensus Oll, that the wife of such as he is," she cried, "would ever dishonor his memory, were he a thousand times dead, by mating with a lesser mortal? Lives there upon any world such another as John Carter, Prince of Helium? Lives there another man who could fight his way back and forth across a warlike planet, facing savage beasts and hordes of savage men, for the love of a woman?
"I, Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, am his. He fought for me and won me. If you be a brave man you will honor the bravery that is his, and you will not kill him. Make him a slave if you will, Salensus Oll; but spare his life. I would rather be a slave with such as he than be Queen of Okar."
I found that so touching I copied it, long hand, into the letter I'm writing to DH.
I miss him. :(
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