A pair of footprints, huge and cement coloured, were found this morning outside my back garden gate. Facing away from the gate. BUT, no other footprints were anywhere near them. Hence, someone obviously landed outside my gate, then took off again. A working class angel must have dropped by.
Moaning and complaining is good. It's healthy. I can't tell you why but it just feels that way.
The level of tolerance at which most people arrive with me changes according to the courage they have, and just how crazy they are about me to begin with. It's true, ask any ex-boyfriend, or even long-standing friend! So far the record I'd say is about 3-4 years, although the end of the patience is not always definite. There is the stage of trying to "avoid" me as much as possible, again a stage that can last days, weeks, or even months. Then there is the "giving up" stage, which is difficult to cope with, because giving up means you assume you're the one that's wrong, and of course when so many people go by the assumption that you're the one who's wrong, you kind of tend to believe it. But lately in my life I slowly decided that it didn't matter. I made all the changed i thought it was reasonable to make, all the adjustments i thought it was only fair to make, and some i'm still working on, but you know what? who cares if i'll die and everyone will mourn me thinking back to all the lovely things bout me and forget all the stuff that drove them up the wall. Who cares if i'll never have the satisfaction of taking that understanding i crave for over a limit of a certain amount of years of continued not only understanding, but - god forbid! - appreciation. It doesn't matter. It also doesn't matter if i'll never guess what the difference is between me and so many strong and complex women who are nevertheless loved and cherished for ever. It also doesn't matter if when I look at what the differences seem to be and i see only things I just cannot be or things I know I don't believe i should really change. Of course this philosophy doesn't go well with the wanting to hold on to what is dear to you and wanting to give what you believe is right to those you love. It's a bit of an empasse there is no way out of. BUT, it doesn't matter. Because I can die misunderstood like your average person. I don't see why I should be any different. Of course you do need to think about the fact that just by being you you tend to make people's life miserable, apparently, and of course that will not do. BUt I can't work out that glitch now, so I won't dwell on it too much.
My dog is cleverer than your average fox. He can tip toe around fox snares and head into the pheasant farm and kill lots of pheasants. he is now an official killer and can no longer run free unless i want him to be caught and put down. or something else that's nasty. so he'll grow fat at least until we find a new destination or a new place to run. he seemed to want to do things so as to cause as much havoc as possible and so that it can only lead to his imprisonment. god he sounds familiar. he is very much my dog.
i am sorry if my english entries cannot be read by all. it's really too unnatural for me to translate something that came out of my head in english. and we all know that english is usually my preferred language for the insane thoughts. you'll know how i die depending on what language i choose to die in. if i die in spanish then yea! english is bad but puts me in a jolly mood. some things i think about in italian and some in english. these kind of streams of consciousness or what have you tend to come out in english and i am just not going to translate them if they do.
i am a little more aware of the unspoken rules of posting on journals and to be honest i have decided i will not care about them. what difference does it make, after all?
my toddler is just the cutest little thing that ever lived, and i feel, incredibly and against reason, i suppose, happy! now you see, when you let go of reason ans just another silly thing you can choose to hag onto or not, and it's better if you don't, then you can have a few reasons for concern and yet be happy anyway! you can be sorry to be causing grief to someone, or just for being a pain, honesty sorry and yet at the same time you can still feel happy. when you stop trying to make sense, life just gets soooo much easier. and lighter.
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