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some days are rougher than others
My brother Sam moved today. Or moved partially. He called me about 11 am to give him a hand, and of course, how could I refuse. Family is family.
I found that today, I could not move as well as I would have liked. I was more tired than I should have been. I only lasted for about 3 hours. I don't know what is wrong. Maybe I just need sleep. Sometimes I worry I'm getting older.
Course, it was also a rather rough day emotionally for me. Old ghosts kept popping up. I watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and for some reason, I just started crying. No particular thing in the movie should have had that effect. It came unbidden, it came without thought. It just came, like an unwelcome guest carrying black roses.
I'm just writing it down here for the same reason that everyone else writes things down here. Not necessarily for sympathy, though I'm sure that motive is there. Not necessarily for anyone to even respond to. Just cuz I feel like writing it down, and so, I do. I'm at 70 thousand words on my novel, I don't feel like writing in it anymore, so I come here to write. To communicate, even if it's just archived so I can go back and read it sometime in the distant future.
Money's in short supply, but hell, that's normal for just bout everyone. So is comfort, but I suspect that's pretty much average too. Aw well. Not every night was meant to be joyous. Some nights were just made for Coffee, Contemplation, Adjustment and Acceptance.
James, old baby bro, I still miss you.
I found that today, I could not move as well as I would have liked. I was more tired than I should have been. I only lasted for about 3 hours. I don't know what is wrong. Maybe I just need sleep. Sometimes I worry I'm getting older.
Course, it was also a rather rough day emotionally for me. Old ghosts kept popping up. I watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and for some reason, I just started crying. No particular thing in the movie should have had that effect. It came unbidden, it came without thought. It just came, like an unwelcome guest carrying black roses.
I'm just writing it down here for the same reason that everyone else writes things down here. Not necessarily for sympathy, though I'm sure that motive is there. Not necessarily for anyone to even respond to. Just cuz I feel like writing it down, and so, I do. I'm at 70 thousand words on my novel, I don't feel like writing in it anymore, so I come here to write. To communicate, even if it's just archived so I can go back and read it sometime in the distant future.
Money's in short supply, but hell, that's normal for just bout everyone. So is comfort, but I suspect that's pretty much average too. Aw well. Not every night was meant to be joyous. Some nights were just made for Coffee, Contemplation, Adjustment and Acceptance.
James, old baby bro, I still miss you.
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