With all the time I supposedly have, I’ve had a hard time writing. I have ideas, holy mackerel I have a ton of ideas – memoir, fic, meta, even pangs of Bittersweet, but the last two weeks, maybe a bit more, I’ve been scattered and short tempered. Some of that is my doing – stress scatters me – and the insane idea that words have meaning even if you don’t agree with them. The computer thing was beyond stupid. How in the world is my lived experience not valid as one example in a billion seas of examples? And when did knowing someone invalidate your opinions? It’s a strange new world. I’m not sure I like this aspect of it, so I will have to put it on my to-do list to change it, right?

A brief note: if you understood the vague blogging and think this is passive aggressive, you’d be wrong. There is nothing passive about it.

I’m going to write about things that made me jump for joy, things that tear me an emotional new one and things that bother the shit out of me, and everything in between and all around. (I really do need next week’s retreat, don’t I? 😉 Cross your fingers that they let me come sans money. I have high hopes, otherwise known as faith.)

I’m spending the week with my middle son. He was supposed to go to a VBS (vacation Bible school) with a neighbor, but we never asked and I’m kind of tired of him spending his days with this British guy’s Minecraft videos. I’ve dragged him to church, but he really seems to be enjoying it. Yesterday we had a burrito breakfast and went to the library. Today is Chuck E. Cheese and tomorrow is more library fun plus a therapy dog program. Thursday (or Friday – this is still up for debate) is the comic store and the sushi place he’s been asking to try. I think the other day of those two will be a movie day. I’ll see what he wants to do and when because I have therapy on Thursday. Kind of ironic – I’ll probably need it more after Gishwhes.

Middle Guy rarely gets this one on one time, so I’m glad it’s worked out for us, both with timing and mood (especially my moods, which were ridiculously unpredictable last year, but much better this). The middle child has a syndrome for a reason. And then when Dad offers to pick up the other two kids to give middle guy a little extra time with Chuck E, we take it.

He has managed to get a little present for his sister during everything we’ve done. He’s a good big brother, although he wouldn’t want her along on his surprise week.

We’re also excited to be using his older brother’s “new” car. We like it.

See what I mean, though? This missive was supposed to be about writing and here I am giving a glorified to-do list of this week’s summertime fun.

On the depression front (except for the last couple of weeks) this summer hasn’t been too bad. I haven’t dreaded having the kids home like I did last year. I don’t even know how many days there are until school goes back. House is still a mess, but it feels different; better.

I won’t name you, but I must apologize to the three people I had emailed with. I really dropped the ball on this. I think of you nearly every day, and I will send emails or message you to at least make sure things are okay. This is a reminder that you are on my mind and you are not alone in anything, I promise.

Writing. I’m still not sure what I want my writing to be, but I’m more encouraged to try out new things even if most of my writing seems to be journaling.

I blame my memoir workshops for that.

Maybe I’ll do a random prompt every couple of days. Perhaps, a Gishwhesian Haiku for Saturday.

My faith journey continues and is intertwined with my writing as much as both are interwoven with my life – the true Celtic knot of my soul. Triquetra might be more appropriate.

[Source for picture: http://www.lalegendedesfees.com/triquetra/441-pendentif-triquetra-bronze-antique.html]

When I misplaced my faith, my writing kept me together most of the time. With both holding me steady and pushing me forward, there is a calmness that is not only becoming to me, it is letting me become me.

I know there’s a lot of inner turmoil and self-reflection and growing and I expect that to continue until my last breath exhaled and my last word written. Everyone has a legacy and I’m still trying to write mine. I do have to live it first, though.

My past is so eclectic, esoteric (a favorite word of mine from my 100 Club days – inside joke) that in the new world I should be able to squeeze myself in and fit and if I don’t fit maybe it’s time for the world around me to adapt, just a little, considering all of the adapting I’ve done over the years.