This morning (and afternoon, and evening) isn’t (aren’t) going to be going the way I hoped. We have a little girl accompanying us all day. Rhiannon was suspended from school for a few days, due to a nice little tantrum she threw yesterday.
I bought some cinnamon sticks and some cinnamon discs yesterday before I left work. I’m going to try and get myself to cut back on the smoking, if not quit altogether. Ashlee asked me if there was any reasoning behind it other than a self-desired thing–like if she somehow said or had done something to influence me. I told her that I had noticed that for a few months she had been distancing from me or swatting smoke away whenever I had a cigarette–which is true–but that it holds no real bearing on my decision. Honestly, it’s a combination of the state in which I awoke the other morning, plus that loneliness thing that I read the other day.
I guess I want to also set a better example for the children, and be a better person, and so on, et cetera, yada-yada-yada, and pull my sorry ass out of this self hating depressive funk, and be able to be and do everything for every one in what little time I have allotted, so I guess I better try to live healthier and such. I dunno.
He says all that, and lights another cigarette.
I’m thinking about it, though, and that’s a start. And I’ve finally built back the habit of journaling, so there’s something else on the pathway of trying to become a better person, again. I hope.
I wish Ashlee were a part of my blogging/journaling/whatever audience. (Hah! Audience of zero.) I’ve expressed a few times that it would be cool for her to catch some of the thoughts that come out that I somehow fail to share with her, because I end up thinking that they are not worth mentioning to her when we actually have time together. I dunno. She’ll probably never read anything unless I share it with her directly. And that’s probably one of those things where one might feel that if it isn’t mentioned directly, then it must be something private, and privacy should be respected. Thing is, nothing I write–not even the things that I end up flagging as private to keep them out of the view of the rest of the world–is intended to be kept private from her. I want her to see and know all of me. Even this ridiculous tripe.
And, as far as that goes, everything I have that is public facing is what I would want my friends to know–if I had any. Which is part of why I got into keeping an online journal so many years ago. This is an open invitation to nearly anyone and everyone to take a small view into my life, my personality, my being, and see if there is opportunity for a friendship to develop. But, I guess it’s a bit of a stupid dream to think that there would be a chance of that occurring.