metamorphis

i want to write about everything and nothing. the continual self-narration of the mundane and fantastical events of my life creates a sense that i have already written the important. and i have, but the words are in my head and no one can see them but me. then i wonder, does anyone care? are these thoughts worthy of taking up their small space on the web? and then i think about the constant and underlying urgency to get these thoughts out of me and let them land where they may. it comes with the need to clear out the clutter of my headspace which is feeling quite cramped these days. plus, i love the physical manifestation of the fluid flow of my experience sprayed all over a page, the words and letters lining up in a row, tidy and standing at attention.

this weekend has been strange. chris, bless him, handed me two nights to be unchained from the baby constantly chewing on my breast. both times i found myself at one bar or another, throughly enjoying the liquor and the conversation. opportunities to step out of my mold and the expectations that are placed on a married woman with two young children is liberating. like a snake that is shedding it's skin that was too tight and confining, i too am in transformation. i am unsure of where my feet will land once this scratchy old skin is shed, but am taking it one step (or shimmy) at a time, trusting that whatever and wherever i am is just right.

oh, yes....