fog, rising

I have mixed feelings about fog. It figures that it’s the most opposing feelings I could possibly feel, yet I feel them both about the same thing. I’ve noticed that happens with me – and it applies to people as well. Strange. I’m very strange. I went outside late last night, and the first thing I noticed was that the fog was coming in. At first, it was down the street. As I sat and watched (I brought a book out with me, like I always do, but I never actually managed to open it, I was captivated by the fog), it crept down the street already dark with shadows and illuminated it with an almost un-natural light. When fog is present, it almost glows, especially after dark. It’s very strange. It came closer and closer until it reached my street, and before long, I couldn’t really see much off my balcony, and it was surrounding me. It felt cold, clammy and wet. On the one hand, I see fog as beautiful, it’s a natural phenomenon that kind of blankets the world and makes it feel surreal and haunted. It makes me feel like I’m separate from myself and my surroundings and that anything is possible. On the other hand, it makes me feel cold and dark when it touches me. It makes my skin damp and clammy and it’s almost like being touched by something from another world. It makes me feel powerful and helpless. It makes me feel like I’m a part of something, yet apart from everything. If I had to go with one gut reaction, I’d say that I love fog. I love seeing it. I love watching it. I even love feeling it. But there are times where it’s just the least bit creepy. But even that is beautiful, in its own way. Most things are. The thing that makes things beautiful? It’s not how they look. It’s how we choose to see them – when we see something through love, they’re beautiful to us, regardless of how they’re seen by others. Our perception defines beauty – and defies it. Human beings, and I think me especially – are profoundly contradictory creatures. It makes life interesting that way, don’t you think?

Do you ever get one line from one song stuck in your head like the track is looped on repeat, but the record is skipping? I haven’t had a record player in years, but it’s the only analogy that seems to fit. It’s tori amos “from the other side of the galaxy” from the song “Black Dove”. It’s not even one of my favorite songs of hers, but I have that song, her voice, her inflection cemented in my head. Perhaps it means something. Perhaps it means that I am finding my own starlight in this vast world, and that I shouldn’t have to look to others a million miles away to notice my shine – I shine on my own. I am valid because I am, not because I am noticed. It’s not that I am invisible to anyone, just specific people. Perhaps the people I wish to see me are not the ones that are capable of doing so. In recovery, we learn that people in recovery are often drawn to people who are needy, unhealthy or something because we want to fix things. We feel loved because we are needed. But I don’t want to be needed anymore – I want to be loved for who and what I am – and that means embracing the bad as well as the good. I am a work in progress, a start that has not yet blown out. I’m not shining as brightly as I could, as I will, as I continue on this track. I think I’m being rebellious, and moving against the grain. I’m setting my own course in this universe and I’m noting every shadow, every darkness, every place along the way. For the first time in a long time, I can say with certainty that I feel a sense of pride over not only who I’m becoming, but who I am. I’m never going to be perfect. I’m never going to be a completed work with nothing else to change or nothing else to learn. Life is about learning, and when you stop learning, there’s nothing left to live for. At times it’s seemed so much easier to want to give up, but I am not a giving up kind of person, and I’m not stupid enough to seriously want to. There are times where I do wish that I could just cease to exist for a moment, to stop feeling, to stop hurting, to stop wishing for things – to just turn my head off for a moment. It’s hard for me to stop the constant thinking, the constant wondering and wishing for things out of reach. When people are out of reach, it’s usually for a reason, and that means it’s time to just let go. When my dreams for myself are out of reach, it means I have to try harder. Other people may find it easy to discount me, discredit me or forget me…but I’m not going to give up on myself. Sometimes giving up on them is the only way to not give up on me. It happens.

The rain that was promised yesterday never came. Not a drop. We got the thunder without the rain. I love dry thunderstorms – heat lightning is another one of my favorites, although this wasn’t that. In order to have heat lightning, it would have to be, oh I dunno, HOT. And we have another cold front coming in today, the same one that brought all the snow to Atlanta, etc. No snow for us. Just cold. I swear it gets colder as the day goes on, not warmer, and I REALLY don’t get how that works. It’s supposed to be the other way around, but this winter in Florida, nature just does not possess my common sense. Then again, she is much older, much wiser and knows much more than I do. So I can’t really blame her, can i?

Good news is I get half a day at work today, in order to be at home to have the cable guy come over and do some magic thingamajig to fix my home phone – there’s this static buzz that has gotten worse and worse and I just can’t stand it anymore. If he can’t make it better, I think I’m going to cancel my home phone and just use my cell phone. Everyone else does it. Why can’t I?

I’m going to go try to get some work done now, since, you know, I’m leaving early and I have a half day *snoopy dances all the way off of the page*