Unblocked

I've had writer's block for almost two months now. Clearly.

Well tonight, I am officially unblocked. And it only took a big fall into that cesspool called Memory to do it.

I'm moving. Again. For the sixth time in five years. I moved in 2003. I moved in 2004. I moved in 2005. I did not move in 2006 (though I prayed every single day that year that I could move). I moved twice in 2007. Yup, twice. And now, it is October 2008, and I'm moving again.

And as it is with moving, you go through shit, and sort out shit, and pack up shit, and inevitably, you find shit. I found a lot of shit. Pictures and cards and blah blah. But what I found which was the catalyst in my unblocking was e-mails.

A folder full of printed e-mails starting in 2001 and ending in...whatever. I didn't even check the date of the last one, but believe me when I say the folder was full.

There was a lot of stuff I got rid of. There are some things I still have, and maybe will get rid of one day. I'm sure there are things I will never get rid of. But today, I got rid of that folder. Years worth of correspondence, some of it I'm sure very sweet and romantic. In the recycling bin. So that it can be turned into paper that will one day be used by someone else to print an e-mail from his or her beloved to be put in a folder to be thrown away years later, not with tears, but a shake of the head instead.

Well, at least I'm unblocked.

It's Not Mine

It's strange and interesting and new to hear laughter in my apartment that's not mine. And other noises I didn't make.

That chair across the room is creaking, but I'm sitting over here on this couch. There's typing on a keyboard, but my laptop is closed. There are footsteps in the hall, but I'm still in the bathtub. The water in the kitchen runs when I'm in the bedroom, and the sheets on the bed rustle when I'm in the kitchen.

Music comes on then goes off. There's a voice talking on the phone, but I see my phone, sittng on that table over there. It's silent. Paper's rustle. Cupboards close. There's a breathing and a sighing and a singing. And that laughing again.

And it's not mine.

Yes

"Tell him yes," she said. "Even if you are dying of fear, even if you are sorry later, because whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life if you say no."

~ Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Which Twitch

I was watching swimming in the Olympics tonight. I noticed that what happens before a race is that the swimmers come out, and then often sit on these chairs waiting for their names to be announced before the start of the race.

Tonight I noticed that as the swimmers were sitting in those chairs waiting for their turns to rise and make the way to what they hoped would be the first of two podiums that night, they were all shaking their feet and legs in nervousness and anticipation. I noticed this because it's something I do - I have done it for years. I shake my legs and/or my feet constantly. Or I fidget in a hundred other ways. People have often commented on it, asking me why I was so scared or angry or did I have to go to the bathroom.

Today I had another thought about it, as I watched all those swimmers shaking their legs as if the vibration their feet were making on the tile were enough to vibe that gold medal right around their necks. The thought was this: maybe my lifelong twitch has not been a twitch born of anxiousness or fear or general anxiety, but a twitch of anticipation, of something big to come, something I have been waiting a long time for. Something good.

Which twitch? Number two. For sure.

The Turning Point

My brother is moving to Thailand for two years, and he leaves tomorrow. That really blows. My brother and I are super-close without being all that close. It's a hard relationship to define, but it works for us. He's awesome and cool, and young and growing, and while I'm so excited for him and his new adventure, I'm going to miss him, and every time I think about him leaving, I want to cry.

Yesterday my brother and I were talking, and I was telling him about all my new adventures this summer. My brother is the opposite of me - he's totally not a corporate suit. He always tells me that I just "work for the man", am "part of the rate race", and I'm wasting my life "padding the pockets of the white man". Whatever. It pays the bills for now. He's much more free and easy than me. His life is about being happy. My life is about getting through it.

This summer I've started to realize that he my be on to something, and I think he could see the change as I was telling him about drumming and dancing and singing and laughing and generally not caring so much about all the stupid shit I've worried about before. He said it was like I was having my "TSN Turning Point". He could be right.

Predicting Shit - Who Wins?

Anne predicts that she'll get dropped like a bad habit by Moody Spurgeon.

Paprika says otherwise.

The winner gets to continue predicting shit. The loser must stop predicting shit.

3 months. Let's see who wins.

It Doesn't Have To Be Friday

"Are you sure today is Tuesday? My favourite day of the week is usually Friday..."