June 3, 2011

can't think of title - baby crying

i really enjoy shit like this article, stuff that shows the common ground of apparently different lifestyles. growing up rainbow in a grey and white landscape (the first half of the twentieth century seems well-portrayed in sepia; i think the second half will be best represented by muted, faded shades of grey and charcoal.), but still wanting to love where i come from. this trait came out when i moved to the coast for a year - a sudden, inexplicable fondness for western styles and prairie landscapes, where before there had been only derision. would i seek balance so much if i hadn't been witness to such disparate lifestyles?

on an unrelated note, bwa ha ha! and again to the first half of the scrollover (but until recently, not the second half - i have wanted to grow older for most of my life, and still look forward to it. growing up, i definitely craved my thirties).

writing more regularly is good for my mental health. so is going outside. why do i need to force myself to go outside? in theory, that's where i want to spend most of my time. but in reality, i am very house-centric. i remember that about playing dolls too (yeah i played dolls). i enjoyed setting up house, but i didn't feel like doing much once it was all scened out. my favourite game was carving villages into the ground outside, with rocks, sticks and other natural landscape providing not just bridges and houses, but cities and environments. anyway, random rant aside, the queen, peanut and i have been starting to take walks after supper. mostly we just walk up and down the nearby four-block railway track-side path, but tonight we might cross the tracks and hit up the cemetary. i have a new appreciation for actual paved walking paths - the stroller only appears 4x4ish, and in fact is hopelessly suburban (but true to suburbia, has matching everything!). even alleys are rough going - a sign of sorrow to my previous, alley-pilfering self. mourn mourn mourn. having a child somehow bounced me over the radar line, like an automatic ticket to respectability.

No comments:

Post a Comment