When I don't write, my thoughts get all backed up in my brain, caught and twisted around one another like so many white iPod headphone wires.
|Photo credit: Steven Depolo|
There are so many ideas, troubles, sorrows and joys bouncing around in there... I just get overwhelmed. And so it is that in the last several days, I've cried in the following scenarios:
~ Last night during the last verse of "Family Snapshot" while we were at a Peter Gabriel concert at Jones Beach on Long Island. I cried because... no, nothing at all about it resembles anything in my life. It was just a burst of misplaced empathy.
All turned quiet, I have been here before
Lonely boy hiding behind the front door
Friends have all gone home
There's my toy gun on the floor
Come back Mum and Dad
You're growing apart
You know that I'm growing up sad
I need some attention
I shoot into the light
~ While talking about the Pixar movie, Up (about the grumpy old man and the little boy scout), with my friend Kate in Boston. Just talking about it, mind you! Not watching, heaven forbid. (Oh, yeah, we finally made it to Boston after our epic fail in August.)
~ After reading this hilarious comic called "My Dog: The Paradox" from Matt Inman over at the Oatmeal.
~ For no reason when Rayne couldn't understand what I was mumbling to him.
In fact, I just cried thinking about the times I cried. To add to the pity party, I picked Henry up and slowed danced with him to a sobbing, half-remembered a capella version of "In Your Eyes," another Peter Gabriel tear-jerker special.
Then I remembered my sister was crying yesterday because she was going back to work after four months home with her second baby girl. And I felt like an asshole.
I'm tired. Henry has been out of sorts and/or going through a growth spurt (which is what we blame everything on these days... but won't he technically be spurting for the next 18 years?), and I've been getting up to nurse him once or twice a night for the past couple of weeks.
Plus, he's been clinging to me like I'm going out of style. Didn't he see the pink shirt and green vest I wore today? I'm already out of style.
I promised myself I would make dinner tonight. But can I use chop meat that, according to Fresh Direct, is "best if used by 9/22" if I'm just making chili and will cook the hell out of it anyway? Please?
Tired doesn't begin to describe it.