April 21st, 2010 §
Well, actually, before she goes, she’d just like to take this opportunity to complain about the 3 petrol stations close by who have all been telling her their air pumps are “broken” for three years. Because having to go out of her way to put air in her tyres gets on her goat.
There. Phew. She’s gone. Now…
As for me, I am procrastinating. It is my most finely honed skill. Instead of writing a post in which I really have nothing worthwhile to say I should be…
- Cleaning
- Cooking
- Doing taxes (Yes, they ARE rather late)
- Sorting out photo folders
- Practicing piano
- Practicing guitar
- Finishing my knitting
- Exercising
- Returning emails
- Organising garage sale stuff
- Building a compost bin
- Reading
- Writing (The other kind)
- Making some sort of list so I don’t forget all the things I’m forgetting here
- Finding out where the fuck “gets on my goat” came from…
Instead, I am doing this. Just sitting here, cluttering up your feedreaders to assist you in honing your own precious procrastination skills.
It is a vicious cycle.
In other news, tomorrow is Caspar’s second sports class. After asking me all week if he can go again “right now”, he decided today that he does not like sport at all. There were tears involved. But I’m placing bets that he’ll run in there tomorrow just as enthusiastically as he did last time.
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June 16th, 2008 §
Yes, a rare photo of Cas AND his Mum.
We went to see The Medieval Imagination exhibition at the State Library a little while ago with a couple of friends; Brett from Airminded, and HG, who wrote that beautiful guest post for me. That meant there was somebody other than me to hold the camera and that is, I think, one of the best presents you can give a single parent.
In other news…
I haven’t been very well, hence my long absence.
I haven’t been very well, hence 1st semester uni was really screwed up. I’ll do better next time.
A girlfriend gave me her old car. Hooray for being able to grocery shopping with ease! (And see friends at the State Library). The car is sadly purple but my friend still rocks, obviously.
We’ve received some parcels for WinterWarm, which is also great, and I’ll be working on some blog posts for that this week.
There is a couple of other (possible) good news items but I don’t want to jinx them so… we’ll see.
And my Mum will be visiting soon which means I will get to have a sleep in for the first time in a year.
I’ll also be able to get to see my doctor, with Mum babysitting and me in my shiny, purple car. So hopefully health won’t be an issue for much longer.
Hugs to everyone I’ve abandoned and I will be trying to catch up with you all soon.
xx
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January 29th, 2008 §
He has understood Yes and No for quite a while so I’m not sure why he has taken so long to use it. I ask him questions a lot.
Do you want to go for a walk?
Are you ready for a bottle?
Would you like a story?
Do you want to draw?
Are you clever?
He nods when the answer is yes, but just stares when he isn’t that interested. Until recently. Now I’m getting the shaking of the head every now and then. A picture of things to come, I’m sure. At the moment, however, this appears to be less of an emphatic statement and more of a joke. He seems to think it is funny to shake no when he means yes, the same way he likes to hold things out to me and then snatch them back.
Now when I put him to bed and say, Lie down on your pillow, he gets all snuggly and tucked in and then shakes his head at me with a big grin on his face as though he doesn’t want to go to sleep even though he is obviously happy and looking forward to his bottle.
He’s a comedian, my Cas.
I wonder how long it will be before No no longer amuses me?
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January 11th, 2008 §
It died some time yesterday in the afternoon.
Which was fine.
Who has that much time for internet things when your son scatters the entire contents of every cupboard in the house to the four corners of the universe faster than you can put it back again? A tin of baked beans by the toilet door? I can live with that. Plastic containers jammed under the sofa? I can live with that. I can even live with being unable to find a matching pair of shoes. But when Caspar goes to bed…
I want my internet!
No internet.
Big Sis’ and my computers are networked. There is a hub and a cable modem in her room. I have nothing to do with them. I turn the computer on in the morning and the whole world is there waiting for me, probably as bleary eyed as I am. Sometimes Big Sis turns her computer on after mine and has to reset things to get the connection working properly at her end. It involves pulling out a plug and then putting it back in. No drama. She just waits until whatever page I’m opening is loaded and it is done in a flash.
Last night, I unplugged and replugged and shut down, and rebooted – her computer, my computer – in a variety of orders for about an hour and still the world was silent.
I. Was. Not. Happy.
Big Sis was out for dinner but I called her anyway and that’s when I discovered the awful truth. There was nothing I could do to fix it: The phone was dead too.
I turned the television on. I turned it off. I sat down at the computer to do disconnected things. I got up again. I paced. I did 3 Sudokus. I sat down at the computer again. After calling from the neighbours line to see what was going on, I knew there was a serviceman somewhere fixing something. It’s possible that some of the intervals between me checking the line were as long as fifteen minutes, but not likely.
Is it done yet? Is it done yet?
It was all to no avail.
Now this would seem like the perfect opportunity to tidy up all the files cluttering my desktop – both the electronic one and the physical one – and to sort through all the folders called “To Be Sorted” without distractions. I did a little of that. I even read through some of my feeds (I’d just installed a new desktop feedreader that day) and wrote half a post in my text editor. But I wanted my distractions!
At 12:30am, I gave up and went to bed.
With my Sudoku.
Note: Because I’ve migrated all my feeds to a new reader I’m way behind in my reading so if any of you are missing me, I’m slowly catching up. I’m hoping the new program will make everything a bit more manageable anyway. Soon, you might be sick of seeing my name on your blogs. xx cm
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December 28th, 2007 §
Dear Blog,
I know that I said I wouldn’t write until after New Year but the days seem to be getting longer. I don’t think I realised how much I would miss you, even though it was I who went away.
A lot has been happening, and I’ve been keeping myself busy. I’ve found other rewarding ways to occupy my time. There have been some awful days and some wonderful days and some dreary, nothing days in between. It’s not that I feel the need to tell you all about them: I have never been a good diarist and my thoughts have always taken priority over the events of my life. But I miss the anchor you provide, that space at the end of the day when my time is yours alone.
On the days when I feel like I have achieved nothing, when I have no motivation at all, I force myself to take care of you and it overrides the purposelessness of all those hours which came before. On the days when I am overflowing with ideas, or words, or pains, or joys, you give me a place to pour them out yet hold them safe.
Often my life lacks a sense of reality. I am not a grounded person. It seems odd that you, living such an abstract existence, are the thing which keeps me earthed. I thought you would be the place where I would take off on those flights of fancy I miss so much. I was wrong about that.
I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.
I’ve worried about the shape you take, I’ve worried about the face you present to the world. I’ve worried about your lack of coherence. Sometimes, I haven’t even liked you.
It turns out that you are not a mirror held up to show me who I am. Just like a person, you are a hall of mirrors. I cannot make you whole and make you Truth. I cannot choose which reflection I will look at: I may see from the corner of my eye something that holds meaning, or something unrecognisable. I cannot choose what others will see reflected. Some aspect of light may catch them, or they may move on.
So you will be what you are. Just pieces. I cannot write myself like a book. I cannot read myself like a book. I think I asked too much of you and I wore us down. I am an exhausting person. But that’s okay too. I do not need to worry about how our story ends.
You are a very special medium, and new to me, but you have taught me something. You cannot analyse an unfinished text, like a blog.
Or like a life.
And I miss you, so I’m coming home.
Yours (truly!),
cerebralmum
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December 17th, 2007 §
“Hey Mum, I need a haircut. This is just a little too Emo.”
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November 16th, 2007 §
So, I’ve had a cup of coffee and read my morning feeds and now, just for today, I’m making the rule that I will not come back to the computer at all until Cas is in bed for the evening. It’s sunny out. Today is external work day. I will get some things done. I don’t know how much, but I’ll try to differentiate between the physical exhaustion and the mental exhaustion. That is so much harder than it seems. It is amazing the impact of your psyche on your physiology. I will push through, I will take breaks. But I want one small thing done every hour. And then I shall come back here for my reward.
That is my plan for today. Not for the next week, not for the next month, just for today. Anything else is too much for me to imagine.
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