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Feb. 10th, 2008 06:51 pmOur Elizabethtown visit was good. Except for the part where I ate too much. I don't know if they just eat a lot, or if they thought we needed to be fed a lot. Either way, someone was always talking about what meal to make next, or making it, or serving it, or eating it, or clearing it away.
We saw a movie at a great theatre with only one screen, where the manager addresses the audience before every showing. He welcomed us and told us what awards the film was up for, and also invited people to make announcements about upcoming community events. Sort of like in churches when they ask if anyone has anything that needs praying over. After the movie I had lemon raspberry cake and iced chai. Went to bed with a tummyache, I should have known better.
I'm going up again in a month. This time I really will try to see my great-aunt. But mainly I'll be visiting to see my aunt's friend's band. They're a bluegrass act called Along For The Ride.
On the trip home, I jotted down a bunch of phrases and groups of words inspired by the drive. Stuff about electrical towers, fields, cranes (the industrial kind), mushroom farms, churches, my brother. Actually, my brother was a little distressed that I was driving and writing, but I did it by feel, with my eyes on the road. And it honestly wasn't much. I might try and shape it into a song, and it might be an awful song, but I really rather DO something with thoughts instead of doing nothing because I'm afraid to suck.
On Sundays I usually miss having a person to maul affectionately. And I guess today is no different, but I'm also excited about new people and potential connections and upcoming events. Plus, the winds of change, coupled with my new commitment to self-improvement and self-care, are making it easier to not ache over things that have had me aching for too long. Moving on happens in such tiny steps, and you're looking over your shoulder to watch the distance you're putting between yourself and something or someone, and you're frustrated because it doesn't seem far enough or you're concerned that sometimes you're not moving very fast, but when you take your eyes off of whatever you're leaving behind, you notice that you're somewhere new all together. That is where I am, and I'm so relieved to be here.
We saw a movie at a great theatre with only one screen, where the manager addresses the audience before every showing. He welcomed us and told us what awards the film was up for, and also invited people to make announcements about upcoming community events. Sort of like in churches when they ask if anyone has anything that needs praying over. After the movie I had lemon raspberry cake and iced chai. Went to bed with a tummyache, I should have known better.
I'm going up again in a month. This time I really will try to see my great-aunt. But mainly I'll be visiting to see my aunt's friend's band. They're a bluegrass act called Along For The Ride.
On the trip home, I jotted down a bunch of phrases and groups of words inspired by the drive. Stuff about electrical towers, fields, cranes (the industrial kind), mushroom farms, churches, my brother. Actually, my brother was a little distressed that I was driving and writing, but I did it by feel, with my eyes on the road. And it honestly wasn't much. I might try and shape it into a song, and it might be an awful song, but I really rather DO something with thoughts instead of doing nothing because I'm afraid to suck.
On Sundays I usually miss having a person to maul affectionately. And I guess today is no different, but I'm also excited about new people and potential connections and upcoming events. Plus, the winds of change, coupled with my new commitment to self-improvement and self-care, are making it easier to not ache over things that have had me aching for too long. Moving on happens in such tiny steps, and you're looking over your shoulder to watch the distance you're putting between yourself and something or someone, and you're frustrated because it doesn't seem far enough or you're concerned that sometimes you're not moving very fast, but when you take your eyes off of whatever you're leaving behind, you notice that you're somewhere new all together. That is where I am, and I'm so relieved to be here.
