“she will always be in my mind Maid”.
When you’re too lazy to ask someone to spell their name.
So many people at work. So much to learn.
So little time. Tomorrow, another big one.
Gotta get mum a gift.
And Ambrose a gift.
And scholarships.
And the address of the Canadian Embassy in Sydney.
And talk to the Arts department.
I’ll be ok. I’ll manage.

Today I spent my afternoon with Eden.
It was lovely.
I should be able to manage this week.
Lots to do, but I will manage.
Three assignments. I will be on point. Don’t you worry.
Organised. Hypocrite.
Order. Chaos. Comfort.
Comfort the sin.
Calling my cousin, telling him I’ll be late.
The idea that I have run out of drive.
To stop and say “I am happy with who I am now, I will not continue to grow, I must improve” Something like that.
High walls.
Hurdles for women to jump through.
Expectations. A loaded gun.
My exhaustion today.

The comfort of the house.
The metaphor of the attic and the basement.
High minded fears.
And Low minded fears.
A window in the attic. During the day, fears may be shed light upon, investigated, cleaned out, controlled, recognised, polished, changed.
Below ground, too deep. No natural light. Blind, in so far that you can only see as much as the candle light allows. Electricity-less.
Scared. Deep well of fear and darkness. The cellar.

The mood of a house.
The comfort of corners in a home.
Back to the wall, eyes taking in your 90 degree angle.
Rolling between the side of the bed. Cold on your back. Hard to breathe. Safe.
Sandwiched between pillows. Snug. Pack idea. A set of spoons, neatly fitted, warm and together.
Liberty, freedom. The difference between comfort and safety and solitary confinement. “I just need time alone”. The CHOICE.

Alone, safe.
Go to your womb.

I would like to take this moment to be an agent for change.
Isn’t it strange, I could invite over all my friends for dinner on Tuesday.
I then spend all of Tuesday cooking, cleaning, being all fussy.
Someone is late. The conversation is forced. People leave early.
Fears and expectations come to the fore. There is letdown, animosity, anger, fear, disparagement, no encouragement, no truth, enjoyment, honesty in my eyes.
I haven’t had time. Time to think and re-fill my own glass.
I IMAGINED such a PERFECT event.
And in ACTION, it could never be so.
My fear of every day life, is this crack from my own well wishing mind that ebbs into reality and makes me worried and sad. 10 minutes before everyone arrives. The dread begins to sink in. “What if its not as I imagined, how could it be”.

Its a canny skill.
Judging these things.
Or is it uncanny.
What’s the difference?

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