Had a dream yesterday. I was watching a Jewish play/musical, and they came to showing a woman covered wearing black, in mourning for the recent loss of her husband with other women around surrounding her. She was holding up a candle and there was a pause as she was collecting her thoughts – I heard someone quietly asking if she needed help – knowing somehow there was something traditional for the widow, and I heard her told “Beatrice is hundreds of years old, she can do this..” Prophet Beatrice started a song, “How should I cry, for now I tear…” and as she sang the song, an Angel quietly came closer. and at the end of the song, took the candle’s light away. The song about her grief over her husband was shared by the community as the sadness of Israel losing their sense of home.
dream came after I was at the cemetery yesterday with my mom and uncle to visit my G’ma’s grave, after first going through Menorah Gardens area of the cemetery.
Inspired to allow HUGE WORK TABLE a place to be shining in the sun, we’ve been fixing my long-lost (a year.. woe!!) parlour room up. (I lent it someone else for a time, and it hadn’t recovered.) Recovery/improvement is happening now – plus a couple of the dupattas that came with the fabric are a fabulous match to the room as curtains! SO COOL! (the room is fuschia and white – also ignore the mess – it’s getting cleaned up this week)
To make stuff with. LOTS of it. GOOD fabric. Nice cotton whose edges won’t run about and would make nice clothing to wear. No, I don’t know how to sew, I do have a knack at imitation of sewing. Like hand me a pattern and directions and I ‘m all confused. I scream like someone assembling IKEA.
Hand me something I can imitate and don’t have to alter much to make right, and sometimes I can do it. Zippers and arm cuffs require special training.. sorry.
Plan to do it. Will.
The wise old owl says it takes three licks to get to the center of a tootsie pop.
That is one Great Horny old owl.
also this is an old people joke. Tootsie pop commercials haven’t been on in years.
keep posting shite and then seeing it’s shite and hating it right after I’ve written it.
I forget what this tendency when it happens gets called. but it’s happening.
I simply feel like it didn’t stay fun. I look at a lot of blogs and they are by people establishing their brand/ self-concept online, seeking recognition and identity. Don’t need to do that, people whose opinion mattered to me already gave me recognition, and my identity – not best expressed online. People wanting to be seen/known as something so their blog is about that something. Find the catchiest titles, even get mad someone else uses them when they’re common use things. That’s fine, those are fun to read, too. Often I think those are projects. I’m not sure those are that much fun to write. If this ends up a type of blog, that’s what I wanted to talk about generally at 3 am. Or it could be all about taco bell cravings around then. Don’t care, if it stays fun to do, or lets me rant off. About traditions – the ones that join in people (that I wanted in on) I typically got joined in on early. The people I listen to already gave me a sense of recognition, the online in-crowd can happen but it isn’t my goal for ife. Now I keep having to pay dues, which are sneakier than taxes, perhaps more inevitable. haha
I have a theory that the first page of a workbook,sketchbook, etc. somehow is usually terrible. Admitting this takes the pressure off a new beginning. Eventually, you can tear off that first page, or just deal with how the universe joshes with you. If someone was looking for an explanation why I’m writing this, or the purpose of my blog, or why why why – I feel like if you figure it out, fill it in your blog. I think I may just like the tapping sound on my keyboard.