[My Diary] became a friend, the paper that it was made of was ready and willing to accept anything and everything I had to say."
— Zlata Filipović
It's been a crazy week, I started watching the news again after the debauch that was the election, worked some overtime, skipped out of a book reading (I wasn't reading nor do I have a book) and was so exhausted I couldn't run my route after work. I created an opinion about Bin Laden and was led by feelings that I couldn't understand; I couldn't understand why I wasn't happy that the man who allegedly orchestrated the deaths of thousands by flying plans in the twin towers was killed. I decided you don't celebrate a killing, you respect it, you don't kill a mass murderer when he's not armed, you capture him and give him a trial, as you would want to be given a trial if you were fighting for your beliefs.
I had much help learning how to express that.
I realized I was only scratching the surface of things I could know, things that would give me opinions and strength.
I floated on a huge high, by seeing how beautiful I was to have my own opinions and convictions and freedoms, to understanding some of the loneliness that comes from the distance and the hours alone.
I went to a second hand cloths store on Friday night. I've been bar staff and hotel staff and then call centre for years; it’s only the last couple of months that I've been off Friday at five. I marched right up to the second had cloths store and spent the money that I had earned in the paycheck. I then went to the grocery store and bought what I needed for Pizza Night with Tink. I sat and talked to her like she were my journal, except that I could ask her questions about her life. Except we talked about real stuff and I wanted more from my journal.
not my photo
I write every morning in my journal, in the Artists Way you learn to write about anything and nothing. So I spend 20 minutes of my day barely awake babbling about nothing, just to clear my mind, although this has been my security log for a long time it's time to start swimming in the river on my own and do things I've never done, let myself write real things in the morning.
I realized it was crazy that I could write 20 minutes a day and not have anything for a blog, and only lines that I pull out and give a piece of paper to brainstorm idea. But never brainstorm the idea.
So here's to new goals: here's to being more in touch with the world around me and educating myself to form better opinions, Here's to spending 20 minutes a day writing a little bit more substance and Here's to loving the crap out of my friends.