the danish outpost
updated when time and inspiration allow. latest and greatest always in the blog.
storm? ha! that wasn't a storm... now, when *i* was a kid...


feeling kinda how a girl feels

most exciting thing i did yesterday? watched it snow. yep. it was very soothing, actually. i lay on the couch, covered in one cat, while staring out the window over the other cat, as we all watched the snowflakes drift peacefully down.

of course, there were a *lot* of them, and it wasn't quite as peaceful as all that if you went outside. the storm started as rain, then moved to sleet, and kept vascillating between sleet and snow for the afternoon Monday, before finally settling in to a heavy blanketing of wet snow. that's the kind of snow we call 'widow maker'. which might explain why my landlord was standing on the porch talking to my neighbors while watching some poor schlub shovel the walk and sidewalk. hey, at least it got done.

our office was officially closed yesterday, which meant that i shut off the alarm clock and went back to sleep. i figured i'd sleep until my body was ready to get up, then do some chores like vacuum and mop, maybe wash a few dishes, possibly do a load of laundry, before relaxing to watch Gideon's Crossing. well... i got the sleep part down pat. something about the lethargy of the day got to me, and i didn't do a damn thing. slept, read, napped, watched the news, napped, ate a little dinner, watched a little TV, and then it was time to go to sleep. guilty confession: i never even got out of my pajamas. just stayed in them all day. once i figured out that i didn't have to shovel, all bets were off.

okay, so i did do the dishes. and i did make dinner. but man... i felt like a huge slobby slob. yeah, yeah, we all deserve days like that. i've had too many of them lately. i haven't been around much on the weekends, which is when i normally do the big chores. so things are starting to go to pot, slowly. ::sigh:: but since it looks like things are changing on the personal front, i may have a lot more time to do stuff like this in the near future.

y'know, that's mostly what yesterday was about. self pity and depression. no one needs 18 hours sleep if they aren't sick. unless, of course, you're depressed. and i am. i'm a sad girl these days. mostly, i keep it under control (yes, my condo has a *lovely* view of the river, thanks for asking). but then it sneaks up on me.

i miss my sweetie. we're still sort of dating for now, but i miss him, still. i miss the closeness and the trust, i miss the honesty and fun, i miss the possibilities. instead, i'm working hard at letting go, realizing that i love him for who he is - and who he is just isn't a person who's going to commit. doesn't mean i love him any less, unless i let my anger get in the way. and honestly, i have no right to be mad with him because i have expectations he can't/won't meet. the anger comes from frustration with my own expectations, not anything he's done. he's just being who he is. and who he is is pretty wonderful. the man will do anything for his friends. he's smart, funny, sexy, articulate, and great fun to hang out with. and i hope i can let go of the anger and frustration without losing the friendship and the love.

eh. so, where was i... oh, yeah, Gideon's Crossing. love me some André Braugher. mmmmmm. even better tho was Ruben Blades in this episode. his character, Max, still counsels a few patients. don't know how he finds time to do this while running a hospital, but hey. this particular patient, Chester, is a multiple. i found it fascinating to watch a multiple interact - albeit, a fictional multiple in a highly unusual situation, but still an interesting glimpse. it seemed (and correct me if you know better, please) that the role of each insider were treated with respect in the script, as was the interplay between Chester and the therapist.

mind you, i'm not saying in any way that Chester is representative of the multiple community. i read a number of journals by multiples, and the one commonality is that there isn't much commonality. some feel it's a gift, others feel it's something to be cured. some believe MPD to be the result of trauma, often childhood abuse, and some feel they were born with insiders. some want to whittle down the number of insiders by melding, some are happy with the extended family, and others cannot control who has body time. i love that there are so many journallers (some of whom you can find here, and others here) who share their^ experiences and help us see that there are many, many ways to exist. hmmm... a lesson to which i should be listening, methinks.

nope. la la la - i'm not listening! *g* instead, it's off to the gym (round 2 today, as my gym buddy forgot her sneakers the first time), and then off to hear the Ken Clark Organ Trio ...mmmmmmm. that's a whole lotta sexy goodness, wrapped up in velvet and a Hammond B-3.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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the appeal of the broken boy

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