Let's try for a real post, folks.

Let's put this on in the background, set the mood for you:

It's been quite a busy time and quite a full time. I haven't had time to think much- I've been talking more than I think, and working more than I talk, which is saying something. This week I dropped turf in the rain for two days straight, and my houlders have stopped cracking when I turn my head as of this afternoon. There have been births and deaths in there, rebirths and crashes.

It's been a long, long time since I came home thinking of livejournal and sat down in front of it. It's been even longer since I've been in the mood. Rock Plaza Central seems to have done the trick; I put on that song above and the album is unfolding now. It's pulled me back into myself. I already feel better.

Since Angus moved downtown I've been living mostly at his place, stopping by my old place to do rat care and moving packing; since I moved (mostly) in to the new place I've been stopping by there instead. It's a lot more convenient, a mere ten minute bike along fast-moving downtown streets. When I find a mattress that will fit the two of us on it I'll sleep there more than the one token overnight I've done so far, and it will be good. Angus got a double bed, and I'm thinking I need one bigger than that; one of us needs to be able to take three people, after all.

So here we come to one change; we've got a lot more comfy with the open thing together-- we are both feeling respected all round, not just boundaries but feelings and joys and worries-- and are dipping our very tippy-toes into tiny bits of something a little more like poly-ish-kinda.( Read more... )

That came out a bit like a rant, but I suppose it's about time, mm?

In other news, the honeymoon is over at work. Boss is still great, hours are super flexible, I enjoy the work-- but my co-worker is rapidly getting impossible to the point where I've been taking days off to avoid those awful nine-to-ten hour stretches with her and her new puppy/ Need to talk to my boss about that. Not sure how.

Rats are all wonderful, except those who are dead. ( Read more... )

I have been taking hooping class from Juggler's new girlfriend (maybe not so new as all that) and it makes me so happy. It's something I can do-- well and happily-- and she is a marvelous teacher. She was gone for one class and had a friend stand in, and while the friend was competent enough, she didn't have that spark. I am so pleased Juggler is with this person, and so pleased I am taking these classes. They're actually worth paying money to commit myself one night a week, and that's saying something. Normally the only thing I can commit one night per week to is plants. After going to an outdoor wedding party last weekend I've discovered that I need a hoop that can go in the car though. It's good to have a new hobby.

With work especially I've been noticing sexism/rigid media-role-ism around me a lot a lot lately. There are a bunch of pictures of improbable-looking girls in bikinis up in the shop (I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I put up beefcake pics, but that's not the point) and the creeping awareness of not only the maintenance/construction divide or the pay gap but also just my very strange and unusual:( Read more... )

So that's been stressful. And when work is stressful right now, my whole life is, cause that's taking up so so much of my time. That's why hooping class is so good. I've been considering trying to do a media blackout weekend with Angus-- he's got his email on his cellphone now, so he's always checking the damned thing --and so I can just feel the grass under my feet again. I need to get into the ocean. I think I may need to seduce someone (which, given my above rant, takes some doing). I need to have a night of swapping reading poems aloud to someone.

Thank gods for my new roommates, who are perfectly comfy with nudity in the house or the back yard, and indulge themselves. They picnic in the nearby park and steal cherries from the neighbour two doors down. It's lovely.

I also had a perfect solstice night.

So this has ended up being a state-of-the-Greenie post, I guess, and less the contemplative thing I had thought to begin. It's been needed, though. More sometime in the future-- I'm taking some four-day work weeks till sanity returns, and I'm contemplating getting the iphone, so there may be opportunity.

Anyone coming to the mission folk fest with me?

Oh, memories...

Ignore the visuals, it's just the song.

Some of those early memories are thin now with time and handling and so so much life since then. Still, how very deeply some days and nights are knit into myself. I can almost see them ambered with age and smell that dusty bottom-of-a-drawer smell when I look past all the flash and brightness of the last few years.

I had not thought I would ever feel the slightest regret.

Experiences can never be repeated.

We only go on through unique scenario after unique scenario, and the past is forever lost to us. We can only have one moment at a time, really we can only have now, though memory and anticipation ghost future and past if we sufficiently surrender our nows to them -- so many ghosts clamouring for so few nows.