Gone fishing. Or fishin’. I’m never sure. The point is, I’m going. Not fishing. I don’t fish. I’m down with lazily floating on a lake in the sunshine, assuming the sun ever arrives for more than a fifteen-minute window on the West Coast this year, but catching and killing something is far outside my comfort …
(Priorities (part one)) My least favourite part of writing is when I sit down to the sleeping computer and I can see my reflection in it. The more depressed I get, the harder it gets to look at myself. I told my counsellor today that I had an image of reaching into the computer and …
I’m not a good person when I’m seriously depressed. I’m not good with myself and I’m not good with other people. Perhaps it’s because you can’t give what you don’t have? If you can’t give yourself love, respect, and acceptance; if you can’t give yourself empathy, caring, and understanding, you won’t be giving it to …
I went camping last weekend. It was lovely. “Lovely” because what’s better than sitting around a campfire with your friends? And when said campfire is perched beside a rushing river that snakes among a forest of eighty-foot-tall evergreens with butterflies fluttering in the nearby grasses and eagles circling overhead? Heaven. Plus, I make a mean …
I won’t be getting my happily ever after, at least not the kind that shows up in the romance novels I read and collect and have been devouring of late. I love those stories. It’s one of those secret things I wanted, a partner to grow old with and a big family. The lack thereof …
Continue reading The loss of the original “happily ever after”.
