What do you mean it's Sunday again?

I didn't even notice Friday... 

And I've managed to miss a couple of days of blogging yet again, so I'm falling back into this odds and ends routine I'm trying to hard to shake... I need a little consistency but the days just pass me by in a flurry.


I am composing a plethora of posts and ideas in my mind, mostly while I vacuum. The soothing hum and just enough noise to drown out the kids shrieking is the perfect atmosphere for daydreaming and creativity. 

I need a portable voice recorder to take down my ramblings at a moment notice. In fact, my iPhone undoubtably does this so I should really work out how to use it to avoid the blank spaces that appear when I've finished the housework and sit in front of the computer.

Because I can tell you, the posts I write while I'm scrubbing the shower are freaking awesome.

That just never make it to here. 


*SIGH*

Marking time

I haven't been blogging very long.

In fact, I think I will have just celebrated my 1st bloggy birthday when I attend DPCON12, meaning it is fate and I must go or the world will end.

But when I started I had so much to say. So many ideas, thoughts, laughs at life.

They seem to have disappeared.

Part of the problem was that a couple of months into my cyberspace adventure Dinoputer died and I waited TEN WHOLE WEEKS for a new netbook to arrive.

I fell out of my bloggy groove and can't find it again. Instead I feel like I'm sailing across the wake of the Titanic.

So what's going on? Am I not cut out for this? Why am I no good at stuff?

I considered these questions very carefully and then my ego said "Hello? How can you NOT be awesome? You are asking the wrong questions my dear."

So I asked a better one - why can't I find my flow anymore?

Because I'm marking time.

Waiting for that moving day to arrive.

Waiting for my escape from this crazy hicktown.

Waiting until the day I no longer have to say "I live here."

Waiting for the beginning of the road to somewhere, instead of banging my head against the brick wall of this stupid community.

A community that I was born into, but I no longer love.

My feelings have been showing here. Oh so clearly, if only I had taken the time to notice.

Every second post is a big freaky emo rant.

My schedule has gone out the window, and even though I'm one for a bit of creative licence and randomness.... there has to be some kind of structure or everything just falls down.

On the days when WonderMan is home I haven't been posting at all.

I don't even KNOW why this has an effect. It never has before.

If you looked around my home you would think that I just don't care, or I'm too exhausted to care. Most days it's a mixture of both.

I don't want to be cleaning it. I want to be packing it. In boxes. On a truck that is going somewhere else.

If someone had pulled a truck up to my front door today I would have hurled everything in and driven away in an hour flat.

I can't stand life here anymore.

I. Want. Out.

And I know we are getting out.

But the waiting is killing me.

I'm counting weeks and days until I move.

I'm counting hours until WonderMan leaves to start work up north. And not because I want him to go, but because it will all finally seem real.

I will allow myself the chance to hope.

I mentioned my lack of direction to WonderMan tonight.

And he told me to write about it. To give myself some way of tracking our progress towards that Brand New Day.

A before and after, as he put it.

WELL D'UH! Why didn't I think of that?

Because sometimes you can't see the forest for the trees.

Because I am so kicked down by everything around me that sometimes I forget to look up.

Because he may be young, but by gods he's wise.

I will be checking in to let you know how I'm going - with the organising, the waiting, the dramas of solo parenting my way through the next few weeks and months.

Hopefully with a bit more direction, and a few more laughs.

Because one thing I've always been able to do is laugh, even if it means people do give me strange looks.

The countdown is on.