I Spy with my Little Eye...

Things are slowly moving towards normality. The weather gets an outstanding, although some days it´s been sort of wearing me out with all its bright cheeriness.

I tried to get some painting done, but my husband went north of the polar circle and brought with him our only key to the garage so -- no paint access! Then I simply have to endure some more coffee and reading on the porch…

Hm, on reading and writing: I´m happy to say I seem to be able to concentrate on finishing a whole book again, I have had some problems with that recently (flash fiction has been my best friend!) and I was thinking maybe I suffer from some kind of concentration disorder (ADHD? Tourette´s?), but now I´m back on track =)

I haven´t been writing. I know I´ve had other things on my mind, but it still puts me out of balance. And I have to question myself: why do I feel the need to write? Why do I invest all this time and energy in it? What do I hope to get out of it? Sometimes I really do imagine myself being a writer, a real one, but then I don´t know if I want to be a writer for the right reasons. When I really think it through I think my main reason for wanting to write a book is to prove to myself that I can. To prove I can really do it all by myself and to prove to myself I can make interesting things happen, that I can make radical changes. But that´s not what drives me when I actually write, then I do it because it´s so much fun and because it thrills me to tweak language in a way that truthfully communicates my thoughts (or something?). Oh! Do you see the discrepancy? And meanwhile life goes on and I keep choosing to stay in my imaginary worlds instead of participating in what´s going on around me. What if writing is BAD for me???

I often can´t bring myself to talk to people about my writing. This is terrible, but I think I guard my ideas with jealousy. Like I think someone would steal them if I put them out there =( And I think I´m more this way when I don´t write that much, when I feel insecure and doubt myself and my abilities. And yet I know I´m better when I get to bounce my thoughts and ideas against other´s brains, and I believe that´s true for most people. Yet another area in which I need to improve…

And insecurity… suddenly everyone else is so much more talented and have so much more fun and accomplish so much more than me…

No! Back to the porch it is!

Trifolium Spadiceum

Found it on my lawn. Everything grows there, it´s a very liberal lawn. Put small stones in a circle around it, so my husband won´t accidently kill it.

Tread carefully. Makes one´s steps seem dancy, that, like I´m some kind of fairy or something. Am too old to be fairy. Not too old to be fair.

Flies crawl all over me. It feels nice when they crawl on my arms and legs. It´s wrong of me to think so. I hide it from people. Flies only get to crawl freely when I´m alone.

It´s an unexpected thing when someone stops eating. Please, just one more bite, you say, and then you go to McDonald´s and you order a happy meal with six chicken McNuggets in it and a small burger and three cokes – for a whole family. You make him eat two of those nuggets and you only drink a coke, but you tell yourself it´s just because it´s so bloody hot right now, has nothing to do with worry, no.

Midsomer Murders on the telly and you can´t concentrate. I can´t concentrate? We?

That man with dark hair seems really nice. A tremendous crush on him seems appropriate. Will he smile if I ask him to? Will he eat?

That and also: tell me all will be fine.