Mint
11/09/00
Wearing mint green earplugs so I can stay focused here at work.
Honestly,
The webcam thing is not meant ot be a replacement for my journaling, my tomes, my digestions of the day or the meditations of my heart. Honestly. I can sense that for myself the quality of my writing has diminished.
I wish I had the emotional bandwidth and time to invest as much time into it as I’d like.
The more I put in, the more I get out. I miss journaling regularly.
My usual schedule is to journal at night, right befroe I go to bed. To set my day aside and sort through it like a big bowl of jelly beans. To pick out the stuff I like and want to savor right now and leave others for the next day. To chuck out the things I’d rather remember and savor a little longer, the memories of good things that delight my tongue.
I still don’t have an active phone line at home. Damnit. And journaling at work is tricky since there’s a crap load always happening and I feel like I work in a fishbowl where everyone can peer in and see what the haps are on my desktop. At least I have a cute little naked man on my desktop. (Oh it’s just my godson oliver but isn’t he cute? He looks so hilariously happy and it’s such an Anne Geddes type pix. Appropriately, the pix is titled “Michelin Man”).
Transition is never easy but things all turn out for some higher purpose. This I always trust. This I always know. God is constantly a presence in my life with little for evidence other than the sun on my face, or a safe drive to work, a smile, a phone call, an email, or the knowledge that at night, I can still pick through that jar of jellybeans and find the good ones always in there, every day replenished, with some tasty goodies that I can enjoy.
Saw Charlie’s Angels last night with L. He’s so sweet. I swear to goodness, southern men have the most delightful manners and though I’m cranky and grumpy and thorny most of the times, southern manners have some inexplicable way of putting me at ease, making me feel comfortable with myself and with him, and feeling positively like a real girl. Not that I’m not real or not a girl, but just, hmmm, how do I say this, less like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder with the world, and more with a softened layer of armor about me.
Oh, the armor is always there. But somedays and with some people, it’s not as crusty.
Peace Out,
Min Jung
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