I love a good quote. I wish I remembered them for longer than seconds. My mother has the kind of lung cancer that’s not going to get better. Living through this is probably the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do. I’ve lived in the aftermath of sudden death, but I’ve never walked the path with someone when the end is guaranteed. Philosophically and pedantically … Continue reading Quotes for the week.
When I left home for university at nineteen, packed among my possessions was a journal. “A woman’s notebook, being a blank book with quotes by women” would become my first official diary, though not my last. If I’d been choosing one myself, I’d have picked something different: this one had half-size pages and a glued binding. I like spiral notebooks that don’t cause hand cramps … Continue reading A woman’s notebook: journalling and some very dramatic poetry.
I have an excellent memory when it comes to minutiae, and I win at trivia games quite regularly – although it helps if I don’t get too many questions about sports. Ask me to tell you a joke, however, and I draw blanks. Ditto when it comes to producing pointed or appropriate quotes. I do better at remembering paragraphs or books, perhaps because one only … Continue reading In the end, there can be only one quote.
I have an essay ready to go, but this isn’t it. That piece is all PTSD and ugly bits, and I’m not feeling that today. Or rather, I don’t want to feel that today. I had a bad night: I feel frayed. Combining my lack of patience with the ugly ignorance easily discoverable online seems like a bad idea. So, I’m mostly going to stand … Continue reading Procrastination and JPEGs.