I dreamed that I never sold my (I mean our) house in Philadelphia and I was so terribly relieved that I nearly cried. Thank god, I thought. It was all a dream and now everything will be all right again. Then I woke up.
A whole year and a bit on and still, I dream this dream. Different angles, different seasons. Sometimes a friend stops me from selling the house. Sometimes I have to race through a sort of distopia to prevent someone from stealing it. Sometimes I just sit on the steps. Sometimes I dreamed that it’s been sold but that I can buy it back.
It’s not like life was perfect there. It really wasn’t. Life never is. And it’s possible that I have a tendency to get a little rose-colored around the edges of my vision when I peer at the past. But only a little. And it’s not like things are all that bad now. Just that they’re not what they were.
I haven’t been writing here because I haven’t anything new to say really. Not to myself. Not to you (all one of you, or perhaps none by this point). But maybe that shouldn’t stop me writing. Maybe the very act of writing will be something new. And maybe I’ll find something new to say. I do keep wondering when this sense that I am stuck in a quagmire will change. Maybe the only way to change it, is to change it.
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14 July 2008 at 6:58 pm
fishback
you know that scene in angels in america where the mother is trying to get directions to brooklyn from the homeless person, and the homeless person is saying messed up shit, and finally the mother is like, “I’M SORRY YOU’RE PSYCHOTIC, BUT JUST *MAKE AN EFFORT*.” i have that conversation with myself on a daily basis. i guess we all do? anyway. thought of that when i read, “Maybe the only way to change it, is to change it.” maybe that’s true. i hope i get to visit this year…
love
dan
14 July 2008 at 10:16 pm
Stomper Girl
I sympathise with the backward longing for the place-I-used-to-live (that I liked much better). Being an incurable optimist I just blithely believe that one day I’ll get back there. There is no substance to back up my naive plan, mind. Particularly in the money area. Just blind hope.
14 July 2008 at 11:08 pm
Frogdancer
Still reading…… (See? There’s at least two of us. That’s more than you thought!!) Keep writing. There’s a feeling of accomplishment when things are written instead of just flowing aimlessly in the mind.
Ten years or so ago I was where you are now. I was stuck in a suburb miles from where I wanted to be and I was isolated and unhappy, with a house full of toddlers. It’s a long way (in every way) from where we are today. Miracles can happen…
15 July 2008 at 1:40 pm
Alto2
OK, you have three fans.
I understand feeling like you have nothing to say, or that no one wants to read your writing. The truth is, we all want to read what you have to say. Sometimes, you just need to put finger to keyboard and produce something, anything to get the creative juices flowing.
Glad you’re back. I’ve missed you!
15 July 2008 at 3:09 pm
Fritz
Take a deep breath. Call up your friends from the city and get some wine. Join a knitting group (if you haven’t yet!).
Write. Write when you are bored, when you are tired, when you have nothing left to say. That is when you must write, otherwise, you are abandoning your craft. Writing is also your child. Give it love and patience.
But don’t forget the wine and the breathing part. Essential to child-rearing, I’ve always thought.
16 July 2008 at 11:36 am
darlene
hugs .. xo