and we all know what this means. I have no life support, no blood in my veins, no air in my lungs. I can't talk to friends, read the news, have TV or troll assholes.
So I wandered about in the rooms, filled with boxes ( for my imminent move that never really happened), clothes scattered here and there.
The young woman living in my quarters was finally gone, and so were other problems in my mind that burdened me, so I decided to turn the room into a therapy room.
That was a nice project, I thought. Then I created a little office. Then I cleaned. I literally washed my carpet.
For a week now, lo and behold, I am cooking. My daughter does not recognize me.
Once the room was made up, I decided to pick up my book again. The one I have started to write nearly 8 times.
The one digging in my traumas, like fingers in a flesh wound. Its not even pleasurable as when you revisit an itchy scab. Its literally reopening a scar that looks healed but they you find shit and stuff underneath.
Oh dear I never thought of this, because I got the story as a child, but now when I write about it, the adult mind kicks in.
For instance I wrote about the time I was left by my grand mother in a park in the middle of Paris, at 5 years old and I naturally, left the spot. Went to visit my friend who lived near by, because fuck you, that's why.
When I returned my grandmother hissed I was going to get it, for scaring people and I saw my mom running towards me with an umbrella in hand. Later on she told me she brought it to beat me but couldn't do it so she just slapped me instead.
Now over the years, I thought about the insanity of my grand mother. She left a 5 year old alone and then blamed her for being a kid. I had never thought of that story from the adult point of view. And my mom was no better in a way.
Your child is missing, you call the police, and the first thing you grab is an umbrella to beat your kid? To discipline it?
What kind of upbringing did she have I wonder sometimes, it would explain so many things about her. Looking at my grandmother, I dont have to wonder that much I guess.
Back to the present and my very productive day
I also bathed my dog, rearranged my boxes to the main room, created a plan, and writing in this blog is part of that plan.
I always knew that disconnecting was the best way to get shit done.
But what I did not know is how much of a desire to get things done it actually gives you, once that second day of no internet kicks in.
I spent time with my kid watching LOST. She even cuddled to me once or twice.
I think I ll switch off the router a couple of days a week, and see what happens. Maybe we will actually get a life. At this point, it's worth a try.
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