Good Grief 208

Where would we be without blip, eh?

I was listening to this (thanks grace) full blast as I drove back in F from swimming this evening. I do think Nina missed a bit though ... she forgot to add the line 'I got blip...'. 

This morning I took this blip as I sat in the garden. Before blip I would never have seen it. The first thing I noticed was the reflection of the seat on the metal which made the metal seem somehow less metal and had taken on the fabric feel of the seat. Then I noticed the brightness of the shadow seat. And then I thought of the space between the idea and the reality.

My friend had called round briefly very early on her way back from dropping her daughter off at work. We talked of this and that and I said I had plans of something to do. I could hear my voice as I said it .... I had been thinking about possibilities and I was able to voice them. 
They sounded so ... possible ... 
It is so good to sound so ... possible ... I persuade myself and the world of things that might be possible, so much there that is possible ...
But I could hear the hollow echoing edge in my voice ... the slight trailing off as the possible becomes ... the improbable...
I don't want to sound or be the glum one, it is too tedious over so long. It will be nice for my friend to think I'm ok and for me to think I'm ok ... if I speak it, it might happen, if I think it, it might be true, if I put one thing in place, and then the next thing, and then the next ... there will be momentum, and .... it might happen ...
But it didn't.
It goes back to my previous blip .... what drives action?
I resorted to a scaled down plan B, which was fine. Some satisfaction in not getting in the car (for most of the day) and walking from home.
But still ... still ... a sense of consumed ... not of this world quite.

On the email front, I looked back at past emails and realised how pressured each one had felt over the past 4 years ... and how I had kept each reply at arms length, politely, whilst metaphorically, internally I was running for the hills in the opposite direction.  Recognising my anger, passive aggression/resistance and a 'f-off' subtext but also that sense of not feeling heard or understood, properly seen .... again ... and rippling back through time.