I’ve been trying to count down my last days with cute kid quotes. The problem is that I am now immune to cute kid quotes, and so don’t often recognize them when they happen. Maybe my brain will release more anecdotes when I am surrounded by the same three kids for two months straight, and I’ll finally write the screen treatment for “Working Three to Five” where the preschoolers are played by adults walking around on their knees. Or maybe just interchangeable kids shot from a shoulders and hands forced perspective. Anyway.
SPEAKING of brains, I got to visit a friend who had a brain aneurysm five weeks ago in inpatient rehab and she IS doing great, but the brains are so fascinating! Her stories were fascinating, I could have just listened to her for hours. I hope she writes a book.
But one of the takeaways seemed to be that the way the brain processes trauma (like loss) is way not linear. Like the loss of a parent - I haven’t yet experienced that - it sounds like depending on where that’s stored in memory (long versus short) it can shunt you through the phases of grief over and over again if it “forgets” that you’ve already processed it and you just have to do it over and over again.
“Time it moves in circles and you can end up anywhere.” - Martha Wainwright
We’ve been a bit displaced lately what with sleepovers and husbands just wanting to be somewhere else to spend the night, and I thought I was going to blog last night, but I randomly got into a really involved in a list-based journal I started ages ago called Love Listography. I tried to add one entry per category on the applicable things. But wow; I just feel so far away from most of it.
Like, (romantic) love is nice and all, but it just doesn’t seem so important. My heart is my own, mostly. Parts of it traverse outside my body across the universe but I no longer feel compelled to FiNd ThE rIgHt OnE or that x is wrong or y is right. Not really so much with the FOMO or the labels or the cares about what anyone else thinks about me.
Except when I’m shopping Instacart and THIS OBVIOUSLY ISN’T THE DELI, CLARA. Gosh. 😳
Okay. Bye!
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