INTERVIEW PROJECT

click here for: INTERVIEW PROJECT

well, it’s david lynch. how could it not be anything but exceptional? and it is.
tender and personal, honest and beautifully human.

people telling their stories like it is for them. file this project under must see.

LB

Shared via AddThis

when all your plan As are in one basket

after 7 hours huddled over the keyboard filling out a now submitted application to university i am left with nothing but
(1) tears of relief to have beaten the most !@£$%^& annoying online form i have ever had the despair of encountering,
(2) a smidgen of hope that i might get accepted,
(3) a big dollop of fear in my gut that i won’t and i’ll have to come up with a plan B, and
(4) a burning pain across my shoulder blades that only appear eased if i avoid standing up straight and stay at the laptop typing.

but it’s not all knots of frustration…

i don’t know why the weather report to the right says mostly cloudly because the sun has been shining brilliantly all day with only the wispiest clouds high above flitting by. it’s made for a nice view from my desk.

and my day has been peppered with lovely back ‘n’forth emails with lovely people, and some surprise messages too, all of which have made me smile and feel warm gratitude at knowing the kind of folks that drop you messages for no reason than to say, “hello” and send loving words out of the blue.

oh, and this morning i submitted a piece for the Queermergent blog (linked in the side bar over there —>). so that feels like another little achievement. it’ll be published in a few weeks in two parts. i’d been struggling with it for weeks in belfast, but here at my desk looking out at the trees, my head seems mercifully less cluttered, and so tidying it up today came with refreshing ease.

right, i’m (hobbling like an 80 year old) off to my parentals’ to be fed a fry up for tea and then it’s into a scalding shower for me to try and work out these knots.

oh, and universe, if you should have a plan B in mind for this autumn, make it a good ‘un please. i’ve done the best i can manage with plan A and i sure don’t have an alternative waiting up my sleeve…

LB

a moment’s pause

so, this is the last time i take the journey south, bound for dublin, on an outbound ticket. next time it’ll be a return.
tomorrow i’ll back up over the border in a van to move all my worldly possessions.

100 miles seems very far today. but as i stood on the platform at holywood with my suitcase and looked out over the lough, feeling my throat choke up and my eyes prick at the corners, i realised i felt relief mixed with the anxiety and sadness of such a significant day. relief at having a different view in the future. of how the past 4 years (almost) have been against this backdrop with so much sadness and loss. each time i have looked out over the water, that was in years before shared and home, having then changed irrevocably… each time looking out over the water acted as a reminder of things i’d rather forget.

i’m moving so that i have a different view. a life less scarred by memories. the memories i associate with dublin are older. and having been in belfast for 8 years, i have been able to leave much of the past it holds to rest. so that now it feels like a new place. so here i am, on a train, leaving the past behind.

as i sit here on the train as i have done so many times in recent months, and as i hold back tears, all i can say with conviction is, i want the future to be different.

::

later….

as the train passed Newry and crossed the border the sun finally appeared, and a feeling of leaving turned to going toward…

tomorrow i will have some, “see you soons” that will catch in my throat. but for now, the view from my parentals’ balcony is of hills and trees exploding in spring green and there’s dinner on the stove. so i’ll be thankful. for tomorrow will be a long day with a 200 mile round trip in the van and moving as much stuff as it’ll take and there won’t be time to pause and take in the beauty. and then a weekend of unpacking awaits.

::

the writer’s almanac for today tells me it’s annie dillard’s birthday. which is worth a pause in itself in which to feel good about the world. it’s a better place for her having been in it.

also from the almanac, Leisure, by William Henry Davies. which i haven’t read in years. hard to argue with…

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

::

as an old Irish saying goes,
not one of us is promised tomorrow.

LB