The election is only four short days away. We have candidate drama at our house still as my son went through the neighborhood with a permanent black marker to write BUSH on the KERRY EDWARDS signs.
A pack of law-conscious kids showed up at my door to tattle-tale.
I'm still unsure who to vote for. Maybe the third party, as a non-choice, is the way to avoid the personal responsibility of a dismal outcome. Would it be dismal? Who would most likely give us a dimal situation?
The sounds of the day are upon me: a baying, yard-encased dog, my loyal windchime, the washing machine ... I have had several hours of solitude this morning, and it has been comfortable, good.
Earlier this week, I struggled again during a gray, long day. I'm not sure where this is coming from. Perhaps my last active year set me back a bit in the ability to face the external and internal in an extended space. I very much do not want to lose that. All writers need the solitude. All contemplatives need the quiet.
Yet, like the writer in the book I'm still reading, I have the blend of extroversion which at times cancels out the other desire. Could be called: Schizophrenia. Meyer-Briggs balancing act between categories. Gemini. Spiritual warfare. This generation's distractability. ADD. Sugarholism.
Relationally, though, things are excellent. I have two workout partners now: one on Fridays, and the other on the trail on Mondays. Much needed. I also received a friend's recorded music in the mail. Last night, I talked with an acquaintance about her writing. Both creatively inspiring. That takes me back to the balancing act of time and focus and, at time, my lack of it.
Teen parenting has been difficult this week. She has hated me several times. I have reacted with boundaries, fear, protectiveness, and a strange version of love. I do love her and want her to thrive, but I can't control her. How do I guide her?
Well, the day is passing, and I have much still to do. Here's an excellent quote that I just found to leave with you:
The road to the heart is the ear. Voltaire