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enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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Flat out.

Well thank you, ladies! Very good points. :)

I suppose that this IS my diary.

I suppose too that what I often do is wonder why on earth I am so inclined to introspection. :)

I will try to keep this brief this morning.

I did indeed roll around in my fluffy flannel sheets and copious pillows this morning. It was fantastic!

And then I got dressed in my action hero outfit and proceeded to learn a bit of Ojibway. Did you know that Ojibway does not distinguish between genders? But that it does distinguish (in its verb forms) between the animate and the inanimate?

I'm so struck by the beauty of this.

I've mentioned this before, but I'm quite certain that I am one-sixteenth or something native. Those rotten colonials.

I'm truly, sloppily babbling. Please forgive me.

I'm going to go out today, with my camera. Unfortunately it is grey and gloomy but I shall take a coffee at the coffee house down the road - I hope I can get a seat; they are always full these days - and then wander the streets of my little neighbourhood.

Oh, sad news: I'm quite glad that I did not go out to the Remembr@nce Day ceremony yesterday as one of the marching WWII veterans collapsed on the street. I couldn't have dealt with that. Our collective memory in important ways is dying.

And, more personally, it causes a great surge of anger in me that I want to crush. I do not like to speak ill of my mother - what's the point, really?(we live on different planets) - but since she is angry with me for telling her that I need space from her trying to control my life...she continues to hold my books hostage at her house. Within my collection of books is the little binder of personal messages that my grandmother wrote for me, and the hand-typed memoir that my grandfather wrote of his wartime experience in leaving the farm and joining the Royal Canadian A1r Force.

I wish that my mother understood that it's precisely this control and insensitivity that has always fortified and not removed the huge gulf in feeling and understanding between us.

I will never try to control another. That is my solemn vow.

And, sad to say, I've never felt happier and more capable of making a better life for myself since I stopped catering to my mother. I've realized that her life is her responsibility and not mine, and I will never again be sucked dry by her selfishness.

I often wish that I had a different mother, with a better character. It's difficult to accept that one's mother is deeply selfish and troubled. And more difficult to face that I can't fix her. It's becoming easier to believe though that it is simply not my fault. It is not because of me that she is not happy. And I am entitled to build my own independent life with whatever form I would like it to have.

I remembered the other day a little exchange that we had when I was 14 and it made me shudder. I was a very shy girl and we had moved yet again and I had started a few months before in a new high school. And my mother was chattering away with my brother in the kitchen and looked at me as I came in and said to my brother, "You're not like your sister. Unlike her you have friends!" Can you believe it? I took that message for years and years and thought that there was something wrong with me for having a few nerdy friends and for not being part of any "crowd" as was my brother. The sad thing is that I do have and keep friends for many years. My mother doesn't have any such friends.

That is it. No more sadness today! And deffo no pity for me! Today I shall bake cranberry muffins and drink lots of coffee and I think I will buy a new book. Otherwise I am trying to pick out another sweater to knit. I should just design my own patterns but I can't help but be attracted to English yarns and some traditional designers and so I am constantly on the web looking at what Claus still refers to my "sweater p0-n!"

:)

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12:46 p.m. - 2007-11-12

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