Last night I dreamt that someone was criticizing my writing: ‘You must be more succinct! It is more skillful to articulate oneself clearly and concisely, than to ramble on and on, circling around the subject but never actually touching upon the point.’
I haven’t written much lately – the kittens demand attention, and somehow, free time at work evaporates quite quickly. Cooking mushroom stroganoff and Finnish cabbage soup with caraway and avocado quesadillas and black bean tacos takes time. We spend what little free time is left soaking in the hot tub or the swimming pool, watching Jane Goodall speak, or meeting up with old friends in Port Chalmers over too, too many pints.
I haven’t written much lately so I abbreviated my hair, instead.
I’m not very sure why I still do this. A lot of the time I know only three people read it, and it’s weird because I know exactly who those three people are. Sometimes I want to write to those three people but not let on that I know. Do they know I know? Does it even matter? I’m trying to not write for them – I’m trying to write for myself. I’m writing to keep a record of events. With the death of my obsessive diary-keeping and poetry-scribbling two years ago, I occasionally worry that time will continue its eternal march and I’ll forget. I already have a terrible memory, and I’m only 26.
But it’s helpful, this vague recording – it really is. To be able to tag and index ones memories by date and time period and mood. To organize by medium. It’s a reminder of how frequently or infrequently certain moods strike me, and that every time (every thousandth time) I think I’ve hit a dead-end or rock bottom, it never really is and it never really lasts.
I like too this (whatever ‘this’ is – ‘blog’ sounds poncy, a friend once referred to ‘this’ as ‘your web presence’…I quite enjoyed that) as a visual record of all the good things that happen all the time in my life. I need reminding. I get quite blue a lot of the time, and having a place to mindfully reflect on all the things I love about my life has been both incredibly helpful and made me incredibly grateful. I have a lot to be grateful for.
Tonight is the Winter Solstice, down under, and we’re having our first housewarming. The kittens are semi-well-behaved and we went to the farmer’s market to buy ciabatta and sourdough and a baguette, and blue cheese and smoked brie. We’re off to the shop to buy fresh flowers. Our cottage will be cozy and full of friends and tonight, halfway through the year and after nearly six months in New Zealand, I want to think about how grateful I am for it all. My heart could burst.