Feb 11, 2011

Journal entry. I know. Calm down.

If there's something you know about me, that something might be that I like to wear different colored socks. Or it might be that I like to write to myself. Sadly, this post is not about socks, it's about writing. Psyche!
After writing every night I go through my entry and decide if it's a good one or not. In the end, it doesn't matter what I think of it, I never change it or even look at it again for, ummm sometimes years. Tonight I'm going to share mine with you. (Jayne, I hope you have a defibrulator on hand. Sharing my journal can cause heart attacks.)
Here it goes.

Thursday, in my room, 10:44pm

Days are so short with kids. We get up, eat breakfast, leave for the next few hours to school and work, come home, quickly get done with homework, "play", eat dinner, then go to bed. I'm kind of glad I missed out on living short days as a child. I always had long days. Nothing to do except build forts with my siblings and jump on the tramp with the sprinkler. Or go skiing. All day.

I'm also glad that life changes. I'm glad I have more to worry about than if it will be hot enough to run through the sprinkler or cold enough to ski. I'm glad I have responsibilities and things to do. I'm glad I have people to take care of.

I went on a bike ride with Jayne today. The sun was out, I hooked up the trailer to Bella Bestia, and we rode for about... 45 minutes or so. There is never enough time, like I said earlier. Someone has to be picked up or dropped off or fed or cleaned. So 45 minutes was actually pretty impressive, I'm thinkin. There's something about the Burke Gilman trail that just cuts out all my sharp edges in life. I ride along and smell the river and the moist air and look at the tall trees that line the path and take in all the pretty green fields and rolling hills, and.... There's just no way the sharp edges of life can thrive there. Calm conquers.

After dinner we went to the 6th grade play of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was cute. And it only lasted 45 minutes, which rocked. We came home and the kids went straight to bed, and I cleaned and got partially caught up on laundry and watched some trash TV. I'm so alone and somehow just not really lonely. At least I don't think I'm lonely. Am I lonely? I would like to have someone, of course, but I don't ache for someone. I like living in peace. Seattle is good for that. There's this giant blanket of melancholy over the whole pacific north west, making everything cozy and leaving nothing perfect.

I need to go to sleep. The washer is going to be done soon, and I want to be asleep before it beeps so I won't be tempted to put in another load.


That was a somewhat edited version... I promise you didn't want to know the rest.
Welp, I'm obviously off my rocker this evening, so... See ya.


JoAnn said...

Off your rocker and in to bed! Love you goodnight.

Jayne said...

You should be off your rocker more often. And write a book while you're at it.

Really Cami, it's good stuff.

Hanna Banana said...

Someday you could publish these journals. Like frills and laces.

Camille said...

Sorry folks. I consider publishing my journals prostitution.

Just Jenne said...

I love your beautiful mind!