More on me

I’ll embrace my difficulties. In the past writing has been a tool to reflect the deepest thoughts in me and as I’ve written them out I’ve found myself understanding my thoughts and myself better. But let’s face it, that’s kind of hard to keep up and admittedly, kind of hard to read on a consistant basis as well.
So let me share some other elements of my life that can be taken more at face value. In my spare time (um, spare time? Really?) these are some of the things that have made me feel alive at some point in my life:
Travel and languages
Craft and reforming old objects
Cooking and food

Of course there have been other interests, but largely these have been the greatest loves of my life thus far. So as I ponder the deep question of my journey, perhaps you should expect some of these elements to intercept my innermost musings from time to time.

While mentioning more about me… as a flaw, I am one of the most inept housekeepers of all time. I get distracted so easily (just now I was cleaning the table, turned to dust my laptop and alas, it is now on), collect random objects I feel will one day become useful for some project I never actually complete, and when I do clean I become so fixated on getting everything done perfectly that all my energy is focused on one tiny object and as a result all else loses out. I endevour to change this somehow. Maybe I can start by dusting the television.

Somewhere in a pile of dust,
Meiche.

Starting again, again.

I type. I write out one line, then erase it. It seems I can’t find the perfect way to start.
Years ago writing was an outlet, tonic for my lonliness. I used to write out my thoughts and connect with each of the words on my page. It seems that as life has evolved, time for writing has been lost. There are so many things slipping through the cracks that I feel I don’t even have time to write to-do lists anymore. I enjoy my life, but sometimes I am still lonely. The words that I want to write stay in my mind. As I go through the motions of mundane tasks, I repeat lines and words to myself until the things I want to say are echoing loudly in my head.
Yet there are other things now that make my life full. I have grown and changed so much. Life has moved on and I have learned so many lessons. My heart is more still. My inner self more recognisable. I now look into the eyes of my husband and my son and endevour to fully realise the two additional roles of wife and mother; roles I did not formerly have. Writing was part of a season of growth, but now that I am so changed, perhaps I should recognise that tool as outdated and move on. But part of me still whispers “There is still so much left to chronicle, so much unsaid, so much to be harnessed; so write”.

Somewhere lost in thought,
Meiche.