NaNoing again

Surely it can’t be November 1st already? And yet somehow, it is… how crazy. I have started my novel with only a slight notion of what it is about. But – I’ve started, and that’s the main thing. 400 and something words typed while the small dude was having his morning porridge

I feel so sad lately, and I guess I do know why. There are a couple of things niggling at me, noisy neighbours and feeling alone with struggling with that, feeling disconnected and lonely. And I am worried about a friend, the friend I ALWAYS end up blogging about. I’m worried in that awful way, though – the kind when there is nothing you can do, and you feel hopelessly out of your depth.

Actually, that sums up how I’m feeling in general. Like I just want an adult to come along and sort everything out while I eat chocolate and watch telly, until I remember that whoops, I am an adult. And I have to fight my own battles now.
It’s hard.

Wistfulness, and I like it

Funny, I realized recently that its been a little while since I last posted. Sometimes I have all these words that flow out of me, and then sometimes I can’t type words in order, the keys just aren’t my friends and I have to hunt and peck. Perhaps I’m getting very early onset dementia. Oh well.

I went to my first OU tutorial recently, for my new childrens lit course. I had to pluck up the courage to go, because… well, once you are in the habit of not doing something, it’s hard to convince yourself you should change. Especially for someone like me, a recently out of the closet Introvert, with a capital I. I do not DO gatherings of people. I think I posted about that not so long ago.

Anyway, it was fine, really fine. I don’t know why. I think because I gave myself a stern talking to beforehand, reminded me to just be myself, not care if it was vile, that I didn’t have to go again. It reminded me of the time I had a job interview at Battersea Dogs Home, and I knew I was moving house and wouldn’t be able to take a job there, but went along anyway because I was nosy. I was so relaxed and jokey, because I didn’t care, and I got called back for a training day or whatever it was. The tutorial was a bit like that. I didn’t have lots invested, so I was able to be my normal, cheery self – instead of dissolving into a puddle of blushing, eyes-on-the-floor, stammering defensive waffling. God, I hate it when I slip into that mode. So, I didn’t and it was fine. There are so many female, middle aged junior school teachers doing this course, its funny…
I’ve never seen an Open University student before. Apart from Lenny Henry on the telly. They were all so… well, normal. In fact, there was an autistic/dyslexic/something not quite right about him person out front when I arrived, talking to one of the women on my course. And I was all: “Oh great, here we go. All OU students are nerds, argh…” but then he shook us all formally by the hand, bid us good day and wandered off. He was ranting about Link Into Learning – how he only gets one day a week, and how is he supposed to learn to read and write in one day a week? He was a nice man, he had kind eyes. In a way, when he walked off, I was disappointed. There was my cliche, disappearing down the street, and probably also one of the most interesting, outspoken people there. Life is funny sometimes.

Slope be damned indeed

Sometimes you just have to turn and give two fingers to things like slippery slopes. Sometimes you just have to live.

Last night I lay in bed and listened to loud rock music on my iPod. It’s been so long since I did that! I had to laugh at myself, because about three times during every song I had to take the earphones out and listen intently to make sure Felix wasn’t crying. He wasn’t, of course. Maybe it’s my upbringing, with a mother who was very hard of hearing. Maybe its the fact Guy can sleep like a log up in the loft and be dead to all sounds below. But I have a terrible horror of Felix crying and me not hearing him. That’s why he slept in the same room as me until about 8 or 9 months old. I just wanted to be there for him. To hear him.
I thought when I became a mother, my heart would shrink and I would become more selfish, more involved in just my own. Its the opposite – I find my heart expands to encompass so much more. I can love so much more deeply, so much more unconditionally. What a wonderful side effect of being a mum! No-one told me about this. They never tell you the good stuff, perhaps waiting for you to discover it for yourself. Like not wanting to spoil the surprise…

Oh, it was a funny feeling
To be wanted
So, it was a funny feeling
We only ever notice
We only ever notice
When it seems like all is lost
You know it meant nothing to you

Remember the good times
Remember me sleeping by your side
Remember the feeling
That you were safe in my arms
I still see suns in you
My suns and suns in your eyes
This love’s not over
This love’s not over

Atonement, Bloc Party

Realization

I feel like I’m moving closer and closer to clarity and understanding when it comes to a particular friendship. I say friendship… it is both so much more and so much less than that. Was so much more – and is now so much less, than friendship.

Talking recently on the phone, he said he hadn’t read my blog/flickr etc since around 2006. He didn’t know that I had a kid until a year after he was born. He never felt able to tell me that his Dad had died, even though it was obviously a really big thing for him and I really wanted to be there for him. I had to tell him recently that I knew, and he finally ‘allowed’ me to reveal the basics about my personal life. We haven’t spoken in detail about it since, and I don’t know if we ever will. I don’t know that he’s taken the information all that well, really – which hasn’t surprised me. We’ve started emailing again, but he leaves days before responding. It never used to be like that… Before.

I think I’m finally coming to the realization that this person, my best friend, hasn’t actually been my friend for a long time. Maybe never. I don’t think we have been close since we were more than friends, and in fact I don’t know that either of us KNOWS how to be friends with each other. I’ve been reading his blog, checking his flickr, all that while. And I’ve been feeling connected to him between the sparse letters and cards, the ones telling me he is trying, he does care so much, that I do without a doubt make his life better by being in it.

For the first time in over eight years, I’m starting to doubt that. I don’t think I DO make his life better by being in it. I think if I stepped back altogether, there would be no difference because we are not in each others lives at all anymore. It was only checking his stuff online that made me feel that. But the thing I’m starting to see is – that was an illusion. An illusion of closeness that simply did not exist. If I hadn’t been reading all that he wrote there – I wouldn’t have a CLUE what was going on with him. He tells me so little, opens up so seldom. He says its self preservation, and I believe him. But – well, that’s not the same thing as friendship.

I know what I need to do, what is right for both of us. But I’m scared that if I stop knowing him altogether, I will miss him so much I will start to believe I’m in love with him. I’m not. I don’t want to be. But I do LOVE him, I love him so much. I only want the best for him. I just think the best for him (and, for me) might be to go our separate ways. If things continue in the way they have been, I’m going be forced to give up on friendship. Conclude that no, you can’t be friends with an ex. Maybe, that men and woman can’t be friends at all without conflict. It’s been THREE YEARS now. In that time, he’s made hardly any progress in just being my friend. Being there for me. I can’t help but feel angry, because there have been so many times I needed him to step up, needed him to listen. And I would have gladly done the same for him, but he wasn’t able to give or to take. I feel like I’m banging my head against a brick wal, and I’m getting tired of it. And tired of waiting.

Time doesn’t heal all pain. Sometimes the passage of time just makes things worse.

*head in hands*

New Header

I’ve replaced my blog header with a custom one made from this image.

It is the view you see at the sacred arts camp, if you head out the main gate and cross the track to the field on the other side. This was a perfect sunset, roaring and lilting in its beauty. I love to be there, in that field just across the quiet road. It’s so peaceful there, and in the distance you can hear cars, but far off. Not close enough to matter. While at the camp I often walk to this field to contemplate the wide world, the crazy busy noisy world that I have opted out of for a week or two. The strange thing is, I don’t ever miss it. And I’d always be quite content to stay in the field forever. Even in the winter, when the rain and cold came. If only the people would all stay there too, each one of them.

Is it just me or… is there a feeling of dread around here?

Seriously. Is it just me? Others I know personally seem to be having a similar time, but I don’t know… It’s hard to tell sometimes. I’m not talking about when you wake up in the middle of the night and your mind wanders uneasily. When you feel alone in the darkness, like the only person left alive in the world. Although that’s been happening to me. I’m not talking depression, listlessness or a personal kind of worry or unease. Its almost like a global dread. Waiting for something to happen. My dreams are interesting, when I remember them. Some are scary, but most are not. But they don’t offer any pointers as to what may be coming. If indeed anything IS coming. I feel the world is on the cusp of something, days or weeks away. But I don’t know what it is.

Walking among the crowds today in Truro, I felt my usual delight at people watching. (“Ohh, they have taken down the alcohol gel dispenser from outside the cathedral entrance – I wonder if people have been drinking it?” “That man looks just like a goth version of Peep Show’s David Mitchell!” etc etc) But mixed in with it all is a tremendous loneliness. They don’t seem to be feeling the Dread. They all seem normal. Are they all secretly feeling a tiny bit apprehensive about nothing in particular, but just pushing it to the back of their minds? The overwhelming thing I notice when I people watch is, most people are nice. Not spectacularly saintly or very interesting or amazing, but just quite nice. I worry for them. And then I kick myself because I don’t know what the hell I’m worrying about.
Ah, it’s been a funny kind of week.

Continuity

*waves to Rob and anyone else who has followed me over from my domain*

I decided to shift the blog here from lostinthought.net because I wanted to have a more up to date version of WP. Then after I did the redirect, my info and everything associated with the old blog disappeared! Blah. That okay though, I like it here I just need to set up a proper page at the old domain explaining where I have gone, as it’s still quite heavily featured in search engines and this one is, well… not.

Anyway, kudos to those that have migrated here! Especially seeing as there was two years worth of posts on the front page of the old site: a testament to my lack of blogging lately. I feel more like it now, so that’s good. Actually, I feel more like me altogether. I’ve missed being me, and it’s nice to find I exist after all, underneath the mother label and whatever else I’ve accumulated in the last few years. I’m still me. Still Vicky.

Baby, don’t you try to find me, baby it will be alright

The early morning is my time. The few minutes before my one year old tumbling bundle of energy launches (metaphorically speaking, for now) out of his cot and into the day. I treasure this time to reflect, to prepare to the day, to think about my dreams. It’s better than being flung straight into the merry-go-round of porridge and bottle making, feeding, changing, playing.
Today I woke up a little earlier than normal, around 6.30. I never thought I would voluntarily climb out of bed at 6.30 am. Hahahaha. But I did.
Turns out I needed that extra time this morning. There was a lot to read and digest online, on the blogs I read. Stuff better read without a small dude clamped on to the lid of your laptop, jigging up and down. Serious stuff.

And yet I find I have changed. I am not the same person I was one, two years ago. This friendship, it feels different from my side too. If I ever doubt I have grown up, situations like this help to highlight it. I breathe softly, sigh, turn and catch the sky, sneaking up on me a sunrise I haven’t seen in years. It’s so beautiful! The sky turns deep pink, pale pink, lemony and peach, then clears to blue and gold. “Okay” I say, “I’ll back off”. He can’t hear me, of course, but will doubtless feel the benefit. I’ll stop beating at the door, when it remains stubbornly closed. I will not rattle the letterbox, climb in the window, loiter in the porch. he knows where I am, where he can find me. I will back the hell off now. I think I’ve tried enough already; I had it right at the end of my mega ramblings… That door ain’t gonna open anytime soon. Maybe never.
In the meantime, I have a national trust membership to use, baby milk to buy, a bootsale and a gym to attend.
He knows where to find me.

The telephone is a wonderful invention…

And so is communication, in the more general sense of the word. The kind of communication that lets two friends talk to each other without hanging up (yep, done that in our time) yelling (sorta) trading insults (perhaps once) and making the other person work really really hard to work out what the hell is going on in your head (been there many times but never again).

When things go right between this person and I, it feels so effortless. May it always be so. I missed him so fricking much it’s not even funny.

In other news, G’s mum came round today with an invitation. Apparently G’s sister thinks I should be going stir crazy at home with the baby, and invited me out with her and her friend T. Most NORMAL people would have said “Oh yes, tell her thank you. Or better still, look here is my mobile number to give to C!” And rubbed their hands with glee at the thought of finally getting to know their partners sister better.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I am not most normal people. I politely declined, but instead of making some excuses or pretending to ‘have a think’ (yep, that would have been me a few years ago!) while blushing and stammering wildly, I just explained that I wasn’t really a going out sort of person, I was a bit of an introvert but quite happy for it. And I said to thank them and it was a very nice thought. Don’t get me wrong, I like C – anyone who likes the Simpsons that much has got to be a good sort. But I really don’t want friends, to be honest. (Apart from the friend mentioned above. Is it possible to be a one friend person?) I’m too lazy, too lost in thought, like the title of this blog. I find sitting in bars trying to be heard over loud music while drinking warm beer very very boring. But mabe that’s just me, I don’t know. The cinema? Always! In fact now I have my Movie Magic card, I should be angling for a babysitter so I can escape to a matinee in the week while G is at work. Alone, of course.

Right, I’m blogging again

I don’t know why. I thnk I have rather fallen out of the habit of keeping a paper diary since the advent of the internet. They have their place, and I recently bought a couple of beautiful sky blue Moleskine Volant notebooks. But… They don’t get written in much. I think I find writing frustrating because my handwriting can’t keep up with my thoughts, wheras my typing can. I end up feeling grumpy afrer writing a page in a diary.

Anway, there are a few things going on right now, enough to make bloggin worthwhile and a good outlet. The first is that, yes, I am missing my best friend, who is kind of hibernating right now for want of a better word. I also have an OU course about to start in October, I want to do NaNoWriMo again this year, I’m planning to learn to drive in December because my partner is an angry lunatic behind the wheel and I’m sick of it. I’ve also joined a gym to lose some of my baby weight. I have to lose about 1 – 2 stone I think. I have a beloved silver celtic ring that no longer fits me, and hasn’t since before my son was born. I’d rather like to wear it again

So. There’s a lot going on, or a lot about to start. And I’ve already had to pause once while writing this to put a certain small dude to bed for his morning nap. Perhaps attempting to blog regularly is daft, I don’t know. But I somehow miss it, I miss having a website to fidde with and make my own, I miss the internet. Oh, I lurk on facebook and my favourite parenting website, and BBC Iplayer and all the rest. Flickr is… well, I have a lot of photos to upload, put it that way. I’m still glad I renwed my pro account.

I think I’m learning that energy doesn’t suddenly come to you. You have to make it happen. If you are feeling tired or like you don’t care and you want to lie in bed all day dreaming, well then you have to get up and do the washing up, because nobody else is going to do it. And once you’ve done the washing up you find that actually, you feel alright. Maybe better than alright – accomplished even. And so you do something else, and feel even better. And then like a soap bubble in your mind forms the idea of something you want to do later, something fun. Or something small you want to buy online. Perhaps a website you suddenly remembered you’d like to check. And you realize after a while that you care about the world again, you care about other people and are not merely indifferent to all that goes on. You give a shit.