Thursday, February 28, 2013


"Better to happen to you, than to me."

Who the fuck says that?

Certainly one might say "better you than me" when speaking to someone who got stuck having to stop for gas in the rain, or who has to deal with some dipshit for just a bit.

But to look at your spouse when they are in physical pain and say, "better to happen to you, than to me," is just a fucked up thing.

Of course I've done plenty of fucked up things so I can hardly judge anyone else.

But I can't help but be hurt.

Monday, February 25, 2013


This is why. For both of them.


It occurs to me that some of you may not know who I am. There are plenty of days I wonder myself.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alice.

I used to be a writer. I used to be a lot of things. I've lived a bit now and find that I'm a whole lot more than I thought I was. Perhaps I've just grown.

I'm selfish. And I am a snob.

It's so easy to lose sight of myself in the hustle of this life.

It's not so much that I can't forgive myself as it is that I believe one must forever keep her faults before her, lest she forget herself.

There have been many good people met along the way. I miss the ones no longer around and am grateful my world collided with theirs.

I am a better person today. I still have so much farther to go.

Sunday, February 10, 2013


It seems as though my life, my home, my world, is in a constant state of flux - a constant rearranging, a steady shifting - a subtle ebb and flow.

I'm too sentimental. I hold on to everything. I've left so much behind.

There's not a lot I can do about the clutter in my mind so instead I tackle the clutter in my life - cleaning out closets, weeding through drawers, purging what I can.

Too much clutter, and even the very act of sorting and purging, invites restlessness - restless energy, restless spirits. You open each box, unpack, examine and repack, discarding a piece or two.

It's nice to lighten the load, but even better when the remaining shit all gets shoved back into the closet.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

six word saturday

Cluttered mind, no time for rest.

Thank you to Kate for sharing.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

ding dong

I'm pretty sure she's dead. 

I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. There is certainly a sense of loss there, but that isn't new. What was lost was lost years and years ago. 

I suppose the most overwhelming emotion is relief. And that makes me feel ashamed.

I'm disappointed that  no one told me  seven years ago,  but really, who was there to tell me?

Now  that she is no longer a  danger,  perhaps it's  safe for The Boy to meet his paternal grandfather  whom I have  never  meet in  person, and the man who filled that role for the first 4 years of his life.


I feel a tremendous amount of pressure - to make a difference, to be there for my family, to fulfill my purpose - the point of my existence. 

I have the opportunity, they were right, I am a leader.

I'm not sure I want the responsibility.

I wish I were twenty-five and not as tired.