Temporarily Tethered


Don’t know how I can feel behind only one hour into my day, but I do. Too many comments I want to get to, too many posts from bloggers I follow, too many words to put down.

Began a new story yesterday, squeezed into a precious hour my brother left the apartment to go and do..something. I wasn’t listening when he left. My head was already writing. How deep that focus is! Takes me a while to get there and even longer to get out of it. Once again I’m delving into my past for story material. This one is about a boy who gets bullied. It was something I witnessed when I was in my early 20s. And YES, I intervened. I read the bullies the fucking riot act and put the fear of BEEPS into them. 🙂 That boy was so grateful…he must have only been around 10 years old. I was out doing some gardening work, and he just sat down in the dirt and kept me company for 2 hours after that. I wonder if he still remembers me. His face is burned into my eyes for eternity.

Fell asleep yesterday, as I am wont to do after swimming. Kind of getting used to my naps. I do NOT like the idea that I look like my dad, head lolling against my shoulder as the tv blares out something I’ve stopped watching half an hour ago. However, it’s keeping me going right now and it’s what my body (apparently) needs to do. Trying to stop it is like trying to dictate when you shit. You can’t; it’s a reflex and it’s gonna happen when it’s gonna happen. Just glad I gave up driving long ago. Dozing on the metro may mean I end up somewhere I didn’t intend, but I won’t crash a ton of metal into someone and kill them by falling asleep while I travel!

Second week of language class begins this morning. Computer class today. That’s my easy one, where I sit in front of a computer for two hours and do language lessons on it. Why go to class? It kicks me in the ass to do it. I COULD just sit here at home, but I know me: I’d put in half an hour, then feel antsy and give up. Going to class forces me to try a bit harder, do a bit more. And as you know by now, I’m all about pushing myself. I’m thinking that I’ll talk to my instructors this week. I want to begin to translate my stories into Dutch. If I can do that, I’ve got a whole new market to sell my stuff to (double royalties – ka-CHING!). I am NOT naive enough to think I’ll be able to do a good job on my own. I’m gonna need help. Someone who’s going to understand the nuance I need in every word. And I don’t expect I’ll get my first translation published; I think I’ll have to learn more and re-write on a deeper level as I go. But I DO think it would be a good exercise for me, and teach me a lot about Dutch and sentence structure.

Words, words, words. Sometimes I think if I cram one more word into my brain the whole thing will explode and drip out of my mouth and nose. I get annoyed as fuck when I play Scrabble on my computer. I’ve got it in English, tho I’d like an easy Dutch version as well. Got to set it to ‘hard’ in English, and then it’s so hard it whips my ass more than half the time. I need a full, unabridged dictionary at my side just to look up what the fuck the computer is spelling. Really?!?! That’s a word people use? I thought I was a person, and I’ve never fucking heard of it. *sigh* Playing Scrabble, even when the computer is kicking my ass, is one of those lessons I’m forcing on myself. It reminds me that even tho I’m a native English speaker, I don’t know every word in English. That mindset helps when I approach Dutch. Makes me call my computer names, too. How crazy do I look when I’m all alone in a room telling my computer it’s a real mother-fucking asshole?

Just been trying to catch this new rhythm in my life. The early mornings, the classes. Time commitments. Wish my bro had a sunnier disposition. Truly, he brings a cloak of doom with him. I can’t fault him for that. Everything he’s concerned about, all his viewpoints, are accurate and truthful regardless of how stark and hopeless they are. I just wish he could take a deep breath and drop them a bit more. Not for me, but for him. He wants to have fun, to be happy. Times like this, and I know he looks at me with envy: how can she have so much fun? I think there’s a little blame in there, too. He’d prefer me to remain serious and grounded despite any manic balloon-flying I experience. I can’t. When I fly, I fly. I am tethered now, but the rope is a generous one and it allows me to bounce and play in the sky as much as I want. That’s worlds better than the floating I used to do; spent all of my 20s bouncing around on the ceiling, never making it out the window to really fly and never stopping long enough to figure that out.

I never want this to stop. I never want to come back to earth. Never, ever, ever! Be gone, earthly chains!

But I’ll keep my tether. Flying willy-nilly, just being pushed by the wind, doesn’t get me where I want to go. I think I may have an inkling of where I want to go now. I just gotta learn how to control this thing, as much as anyone can control the flight of a balloon. You still gotta use the wind, right? You just use it to your advantage. So until I work out what all these levers and knobs do (MY balloon looks like the inside of the TARDIS), I’ll stay temporarily tethered. Watch out, tho. ‘Cause when I’m ready, I WILL let go.


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