August 9, 2001

A Little More


Wednesday afternoon:

Since the world hasn't come to an end (yet) because I took a few baby steps into uncharted territory, I need to go on. I'm not sure what's going to come out next but I do know one thing - there's stuff I have to spill that really would be unwise to spill here. Not that it's so scandalous, but there are things I haven't told my kids, (or told them yet) who do know this journal exists and might one day decide to read.
Not all of it has to do with men, either, but it all has to do with me and how I got to here.

A friend suggested that I do something similar to Sasha, who has a password-protected section on her site. I had considered it but not seriously; now that I think about it, however, it seems the perfect solution. I can let loose if and when I need to and ensure that nobody whom I feel uncomfortable with will read.

That's not a long list, by the way; it consists of my children, husband, brother-in-law (who is very active online and is bound to find me one of these days) any other family from that side (particularly the niece/nephew in upstate NY) and a few people in the local community.
Everyone else in the entire world can read it, including my extended family.

I'm going to set up something on diary-x because they offer password protection and I'm too lazy to learn how to do it myself. Meanwhile, anyone who's interested, please either join the notify list (they'll all be getting the password) or email me. Don't be shy...

I hope that I won't use it too often; most of the journal should still be public. There are just a couple of issues that I'd like to get into, have wanted to get into for some time, and just can't bring myself to do here.

Thursday afternoon:

My life story will continue soon; (really, it's not all that interesting!) but I want to return to the present today.

On Tuesday we got word that a friend's husband had died.
It wasn't a surprise; what was a surprise is that he had survived about fifteen years with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. He was 52.

The funeral is tomorrow morning and I have to go. I haven't seen this friend in a couple of years (no real reason, just drifted apart) but I've known her for about twenty years and think the world of her.
It's not the first funeral of a contemporary that I've attended but coming so soon after my father's, I dread it a bit more than usual.

When this sort of thing happens it makes certain voices in my head yell louder.
The ones that say stuff like life is short; live every day like it was your last; don't put things off; and the ever-popular you've been in one place long enough.

They don't yell loud enough to drown out the ones that are born of complacency and fear of change, nor the ones that tell me I couldn't manage on my own - I've never BEEN on my own.

I have quite a chorus going on in my head.
But I know which voices will win, in time.
The question is, how much time.
I didn't name this journal "Inertia" for nothing;
neither am I a bottomless pit of self-sacrifice.
I don't regret holding my family together but I don't feel as if I am where I'm supposed to be, for me.
I guess the only questions that remain are when and how.

Events like a premature death actually make me feel guilty, for not doing more with my life and not doing what's best for me.
(My husband would do a spit-take on that one; he feels that ALL I do is what's best for me. But he feels that way no matter what I do, so in small mundane ways I may as well please myself.)

For those (you know who you are) who have wondered (aloud) why I need to proceed with all this self-analysis online: I learned a lot just from writing the above. I have to do it this way.

Linque Du Jour:   The Museum of Hoaxes

Time to lighten up a bit...
Hoaxes through the ages, arranged chronologically; Hoax of the day (some days); also a section on website hoaxes and even a quiz, the "Gullibility Test".

A nice diverting browse.

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