This day didn't turn out as expected.

I think what I mean by that is, this day was full of surprises and they were pleasant surprises and I'm grateful. [I used extra conjunctions for rhetorical purposes.]



I didn't expect my boss to leave the building about half an hour after I arrived because we were the only two there.  I understand and I offered to leave but he insisted.  He returned several hours later assuming I'd be gone but it was fine because by that time I was finished work and just using the work computer to blog so it was easy for me to leave and let him have the place.
I didn't expect to feel my brain moving into a higher gear because I forgot that we hadn't talked this week - due to hols - when we usually talk on four, five, six days out of seven.  We may have only chatted for ten minutes but I remember the exact moment I fumbled to get the clutch in and catch up.


I didn't expect to write two blog posts in a day, let alone to want to write two, to make a list of what was to go in the second and to make sure I did it before bed even though I should be in bed already.  Such a pecules day.


I didn't expect to feel so good after writing the first post.  I wrote it and it looked like I wanted it to.  I got distracted by a series of past posts and stumbled upon something that made me laugh out loud really hard.  It was funnier because my laugh echoed through the big auditorium.
The post answered the how are you / how was your Christmas question I've been avoiding from everyone.  So, now that I know what I think, I feel like my chest has untensed and I can break off pieces of that essay to answer whomever.  Armed.


I didn't expect the Red Brick Cafe to be closed so early and I also didn't intend to go there today.  My plan was to go tomorrow (if I could get things done today, as a sort of reward) but I was feeling so good that I wanted to ride the momentum into good Quiet Time and further productivity. I didn't expect to shrug my shoulders so easily when I saw their posted holiday hours.


I didn't expect to not be bothered that I missed the bus downtown by about a third of a block which meant I'd walk forty minutes instead.


I didn't expect that today would be a day on which I could wear my heart-shaped earrings.  I don't wear them often (probably once or twice a year) because I think they're a wee bit loud. I try to be very mindful of occasion and audience with them.  But, I wore them all day and they made sense to me.  I wear them on deep-rooted-confidence days.  It's the day where I can say, "This is how I feel; this is who I am."  It doesn't mean I feel lovey or in love but that I am who I am and that in my heart of hearts I'm secure. (I want to write something about how I have an inner smile that can't be wiped away but I don't know how to say it without sounding cheesy.)


I didn't expect to board a bus whose driver I recognise from my former job.  I first recognised him at the terminal a couple months ago but didn't say anything because we didn't have any real kind of rapport.  He came in maybe once a week or every two weeks and we maybe got outside transaction-related chit-chat three or four times.  I don't remember much.  Usually a plain black t-shirt, I think.
I'd never been on a bus he was driving so this was my best hey, don't I know you? opportunity.  I got halfway up the aisle to the back of the bus before I turned around and headed back.
"Did I used to sell you duMaurier menthol?"  He laughs and says that yes, it's him.
I didn't expect such openness and jolliness.  I didn't expect the conversation to be 100% without hitches.  I didn't expect him to remember me so well.  I didn't expect him to say that he had seen me before but that he didn't know how to say hi.  He didn't know if it was weird.  I expressed how I had been thinking something similar.  "Did you see how I got halfway up the bus before I turned around and came back?"  He laughs and nods.  "I just decided, 'life's too short'," and he agrees emphatically with a quick change to seriousness that screamed tip of the iceberg.  Color me curious.  Most people gloss over it when I use that phrase.
I didn't expect him to be so friendly because, seriously, we had a minimal rapport.  I didn't expect him to be the one to extend his hand and ask my name.  I didn't expect to be so chuffed about making a new friend, as I put it.  But it's cool to get on with new and interesting people. I suppose it's also cool to be remembered.


I didn't expect to do a total one-two knockout of my to-do list but it does feel good.

The Word* looks so beautiful to me today. It's refreshing.

*by this I mean the Holy Scriptures; the Word of God.

My brain popped open after work yesterday.  Walking to the bank and then the grocery store at the end of a weird, tumultuous week my brain popped open and I had a peek at how I've been away from God for a couple days.  Imagine.  If I were religious, I'd feel x times worse for being "away" at this Christmassy time of year but really, estranged is estranged.

I do regret that I probably missed out on some neat things He'd have done this week if I were open and paying attention. But today I can only move forward.  I wonder about the Scriptures sometimes.


It's on a day like today I really feel like I love my job.  I'm soaking into Scripture, music and poetry...Nevermind all the clerical stuff - sorting, filing, printing, photocopying, hole-punching, typing - which is also thoroughly up my alley.

I debated for several hours yesterday afternoon whether I'd come in to work after work (around 5pm) on Friday or write last night off and come in today, Saturday.  I'm very, very glad I made this choice.  Last night was dinner, shower, laundry, purging/sorting, writing overdue emails and an action movie.  Today, because I had enough sleep, because I had breakfast at home and brought lunch with me, because I set specific tasks and hours for work (so I don't feel like I'm here "forever" and missing my Saturday), because things are getting done and looking beautiful (it's the Scrip, lyrics and music that look beautiful) I'm happy to be here.  One of those days where it doesn't quite feel like work.  I mean, I got to use the word addendum.  Come on. I like it when I get to put in enough time to do everything I'd like to do.  Then there are no regrets and 99% of cringeful moments can be avoided.

--

embedded triet XLIV:

Now.  I wonder about my right hand.  I just came from practising for 40 minutes and Take My Life and Let it Be, the first song I played, was making my right hand hurt.  Yes, the stretching required to reach the notes written is a bit outside the norm but I've played this song before and I warmed up today so it shouldn't have hurt -- at least not right away!  I think my hand was sore across the knuckles

(1) because I was shovelling yesterday and the day before.  I shovelled the sidewalk from intersection to intersection on our side of the block

a) because I wanted to help out the neighbours who, if they are human, will also hate shovelling;
b) because I have trouble stopping what I call "patterns" part way through so the three-inch snow height difference between our property and the neighbour's was not going to happen;
c) shovelling is secretly exercise (says my CV system, back and arms) but not annoying because I'm getting something done; and
d) B could build snow forts forever so I thought I might as well do something productive while keeping an eye on him,

(2) because it's cold in this building and I haven't played (or thought about playing) piano since Monday.  This brings a pang of sadness

a) because to look to Monday, when I had the most meaningful, worshipful Christmas Eve service of my life, I need to look through Tuesday & Wednesday which found me dejected and sad,
  i) because I couldn't find my family, and
  ii) I am tired of being a nomad
and Thursday & Friday which seemed to get in the way of my life because they were too long and insurmountable,
   i) because I don't know how to take care of children
   ii) I didn't have money to take the kids out as I would have wanted to
   iii) I couldn't do work for my other job (which I also couldn't do Tuesday or Wednesday)
   iv) I couldn't kick the tiredness which I regret that the kids paid for
   v) I need to pack and move house on this coming Tuesday and ten-hour days with the boys make me allergic to moving and thinking;
b) the cold barrenness of this building often feels like a reflection of how I am not where I should be, how I am behind and perhaps of how I am not wanted or missed, and

(3) because yesterday evening I decided to open the hatch slightly and allow myself to express how I was feeling instead of trying to suppress. (An odd phrase recently found its way into my head and startled me because it's ludicrous but something I could say sincerely.  I said, "Feelings go away if you call them stupid long enough," and I meant it and it works.) I was inclined to open the hatch

a) because I felt there was nothing left [to do];
b) because a friend of mine recently encouraged me to let myself cry (which I modified to mean, let myself feel my feelings because I don't cry easily);
c) because I didn't want to burst.

Words flowed unfettered because I was talking to no one or to God who has seen and heard it before I knew I thought or felt it (but I still managed to curb swear words somehow, possibly because I was aware I was addressing the Father). And while I was annoyed that what I said wasn't sensible or what I wish I could say or something with an easy fix, I was glad it came out exactly as I felt/thought it.  I spoke freely enough that I started taking my [emotions] out on the couch cushion beside me.  I forgot that reclining couches have inner workings made of metal, so my hand hurts.


This trifecta of reasons bothers me but it's my life so I wrote about it.
As for the nested list, YES, this is really how I think except it's kinda like a starburst/pyramid.

There is more that I wish I could say.  I wish I could express the unsayable yeast that's worked its way through this whole batch of becauses but not everything I want is good.

Why does the pile of dishes never end?

Seriously.  I'm not using that many.  We have two meals in the time I'm here.  Why does the pile of dishes never end?  I guess if I waited until just before I left to wash them there would only be one (massive) pile but still.  Incredible.


And how does anyone ever have children?  How does anyone ever raise children properly and not lose their mind?  How do you curb selfishness so effectively and continually?  I don't understand.


Everywhere I look there's something else I could be putting away or cleaning.  I feel frustrated because I can't do everything (I want to do).  I hope this weekend goes well.  I hope a lot of things!


Now that I can hear screeching, I believe it's time to take the jawbreaker away from the six-year-old. 


Oh, sugar.  Why do you exist?

For kangaroos, L. Lewis and Milhouse.

I feel badly about the previous post still being the first one people see... but I guess I just haven't had content or time.

I wonder what my future holds. (Should I wonder?)
I wonder if I'll ever catch up with all the words I want to write. On a day and week like this when it seems I'd drain every pen and fill every page, I wonder if I can ever write enough.

I wonder how tomorrow will go. I'm with the boys for a full ten and I have other work to catch up on. We'll see.

My brain [read: my emotions that I can't handle or name] hurts [hurt].

I wish I could say more than I've said.

If it weren't for Romans 8, I'd pin a red "A" on my shirt. If the Truth weren't truly true in this universe I should wear an A with shame, be condemned and die.

I should go to the gallows. I feel like I can feel the coarse, bristly noose at my neck already. It's all closing in.

And here I find myself grateful! I feel grateful to God for holding up the mirror; for pushing my nose into the soiled carpet; for giving a painfully stark revelation of my sin. What's more, He lovingly showed me who I would rather be.

I am heartbroken over my blindness and closed ears. It is a wonder anyone stays in relationship or fellowship with Christ for any significant amount of time. Who will rescue me from this body of death?

It must be more His steadfastness than anything.

Thanks be to God -- through Jesus Christ our Lord.

I finished typing this draft at 1.21 am on Saturday (late Friday).

It's late and it's cold outside. I'm on my way home and this bus smells like doughnuts you'd regret after you paid, not after the first bite.

I'm a little tired.

I'm a little upset.

I'm a little frustrated.

All things are all things. My nose is cold. I got a hug today from someone I haven't seen in months. Yesterday I almost blurted (to someone I shouldn't), "I need a hug." Who needs that? What does it solve?



Today was an interesting day. It had a lot of fun bits in it. I need help. Some things are difficult for me. I look forward to sleeping in tomorrow because it has been weeks since my last solid sleep.


It has begun to wear on my outlook and made me want to answer most "how are you"s with, "sad." I don't want to miss out on my life. Two good nights of catch-up (so I intend) and I hope to be back to my normal self.

Don't get me wrong: I know nightly good sleep is a privilege but this marathon makes me feel some mix of shame, defeat and smallness. It's hard to describe.

I would like to give people my full attention and true affection. I would like to get off the caffeine perma-prowl.


Today was a fair day. I was with the boys for ten hours (which is both work and not work), I was at the local church I attend for four hours (our Christmas Banquet Chranquet), I was at some friends' place for two hours then I hit my limit and came home.

I laughed a lot during the Banquet for reasons that cannot be put into words.
I enjoyed my time with the boys though I quite wish our day hadn't ended on such a sour note that was outside my control.

We had a good day in. They weren't dressed til it was past 11am. They didn't need me to entertain them and having a day of chillness was pretty neat.  Every other full day we go out and I jam-pack our time with activities.  They were content to hang out and SO WAS I.

It was a long day and I don't know where I found the stamina for it but if I can't keep my eyes open for Die Hard (1988) then you know I'm beat.  I made it through most of the day because of adrenaline but as soon as I was off the clock with both jobs and I could smell weekend on the wind, I was done.  This blog post is done.

what a week.

If I knew what was good for me, I'd probably be sleeping right now.  If I knew what was good for me, [a lot of things].



Last night, the work project I was pondering started to seem like an assignment.  My inner monologue defaulted to that term spontaneously after a week of working on it. Last night and this morning, it felt even more like an assignment because I stayed up very late, woke up through the night to keep adding to it and got up stupid-early but not as early as I wanted to.

Moving through my morning I noted the pockets of work time I could exploit to put on finishing touches, and essentially to familiarise myself with what I'd be presenting.

It's funny to me that singing a solo in front of 200-ish people (a song I barely know and a melody I couldn't really sink my teeth into) this morning was nothing... It was disappearing-easy.  I know that's not a term, but that's how it felt.  It's like I wasn't even there.  I just sit and hands, throat, eyes, brain, foot all cooperate and I sort of watch the song unfold.  It's peculiar.

But ask me to explain a tiny droplet of music theory to about fifty people - when music theory is my second language, the lens through which I hear/read/see all music and any melodic sound [infer: I'm using the skill constantly] - and I'm Jell-O! I can do it...I can speak to people because I must and being afraid doesn't help but it's not easy.  It's not natural.  I don't do well thinking aloud.  My notes were messy.

I'm grateful that we're doing the same thing next week so I can be MUCH, much better prepared.  I think it'll be good.

--

I had plans to go watch a Christmas movie at a friend's house with a bunch of others and I was looking forward to it because this week hasn't contained much leisure time for me.  Even though there were other work-related things I could be doing, I was going to take some of the evening off to try to restore some balance to my mental and emotional life.

I was at work practicing til half past five in the PM and was due at the movie house for 7.30.  This left me with a delightful little window where I didn't have to be somewhere for the first time in what felt like six days.

I found a small table, a lattè, a notebook, a pen and a printed copy of the Word of God.  It was a a good time.  The friend who would pick me up to go to watch the movie called around 6 to figure out the timing.  He asked what I'd be doing in the interim, thinking that I was simply killing time and was going to offer to hang out before we left.

I paused slightly after his inquiry, deciding not to do what I usually do.  I usually try to explain these things in terms that others can understand; that they can identify with and ultimately that they will approve/respect.  This time, however, I didn't feel like translating because I don't want to have to defend myself in this way. So, I paused slightly and said, "Getting down time. [beat] Which is important to me."  I threw in the second part without thinking. It's justification again but at least I didn't launch into a long argument for its importance.

"Yeah, I get it," he says warmly.

I'm glad.

I know plenty of people who would call what I do for "down time" doing "nothing" and I know plenty of people who would rather gouge their eyes out than sit still alone and read or write.  I get fueled during those times. People are different.

There's really not a clock in my house I can trust.

[I meant to post this round 7.30am Tuesday.]

I'm at work now, watching "Tom and Jerry Tales" with B who only seems to be sitting still because Tom and Jerry are doing extreme sports. (Other episodes and other shows don't hold his attention the same way.) I'm glad he's sitting still. This morning came too soon and too weirdly.

I brought the boys each their favorite cereal this morning and got happy feedback from both. I like when they speak gratitude from the feeling, not from being taught or from social cues. I still remember J snapping upright in his chair (a time-out chair) a few weeks ago when I showed dad the new zipper on J's coat. "Thank you, Jesskah!" he blurted sweetly with a little boy high-pitched voice and a super alert face, seeing the garment in my hands anew.

Dad said - looking a bit surprised - they had just been talking about that five minutes ago; how they needed to get cereal. Glad it was OK. I try to read their groceries and their week so I can give Dad a break.

Things seemed to take a huge step toward normal this morning. Dad and I had it out on Thursday but this morning, helped by me being 15 minutes early, helped by him being worn down and feeling reality like a gorilla on his chest, helped by me finding my feet and deciding to be assertive and open, today was closer to normal. Today was OK.

I'm not really doing anything right now.

There's a comedy show on TV which I am partly enjoying and partly using to keep my brain moving forward.  It's trying to shut down and do everything and nothing.

For about a week and a half I haven't really been able to figure out how tired I am or how I'm sleeping. The days have been joined together with late nights and early mornings.  They've been joined because of intense days that aren't well processed.  They've been joined in some cases because of excessive happiness, replaying and reliving; they've been joined in other cases because of deep sadness, replaying and mulling over.

I'm happy to discover that I am currently having trouble keeping my eyes open.  (When I first started typing I was still deciding what part of my to-do list to go after.  Now I've got only a pillow in my sights.)



I have a lot of questions (and a couple of ideas).