Is this true or creative thinking? Either way, it's a beautiful piece. If it's true, my heart breaks for you. I share some of the heartbreak a father can leave.
Descriptions of pain, such as this piece, can be so beautiful. It almost seems as though it shouldn't be that way-- and I don't really know why it is. But anyway, I'm grateful for your enormous talent, sensitivity, and generosity.
Ah, but the journey is as important as the destination isn't it? So we're never really too young to write? Just that our conclusions change along the way and somehow become more ordered and complete, tempting us to go back and revise the previous conclusions. Which were valid at the time but now seem incomplete and inappropriate...
thanks, shan. have i told you lately, ever, how much your encouragement means? lots, and lots. and lots.
deanna, thank you, too! i'm blushing. again.
sandy, it's all true. the embarrassing thing about me is that i have to edit things out of my life writings to make it sound more believable. i can't tell you how lame it feels to write the words/say the words, "my dad is a crack addict". ugh. i'm sorry about your own heartbreak and the burden that leaves you with, even as an adult. thanks for sharing.
oh ann, thank god for that mystery of beauty in pain. i'd be dead meat without it.
cherie, ya. bad.
cecily, ya, the journey is as important, especially in a relationship when there really is no clearly defined "destination". i think i feel too young because i use my writing to see things clearly and i can't really write into a whole lot of clarity with my dad. he's so varied and so complex, it's like i can't find the unifying theme in his life. maybe it's because i want to get to the heart of him but don't really know what's at the heart? i dunno. i let it sit for a while. time always helps.
leisel, thanks. nope. no comment on the other blog. i guess you and ann and i all have the same disapearing comment problem. i don't know how many times i've commented on your blog only to never see it again.
I suggest checking extra carefully after commenting to see the top of the window say, "Your comment has been saved." I've noticed after taking a long time to find those long-winded sentences I leave, the comment gods become angry, and only after I reenter the word verification letters does the thing show up.
Yep, I'm back reading comments here after having left one days ago. Just can't stay away.
15 comments:
It's beautiful. And heartbreaking.
I love you.
Fragile, beautiful. I'll just gaze a while.
Is this true or creative thinking? Either way, it's a beautiful piece. If it's true, my heart breaks for you. I share some of the heartbreak a father can leave.
Descriptions of pain, such as this piece, can be so beautiful. It almost seems as though it shouldn't be that way-- and I don't really know why it is. But anyway, I'm grateful for your enormous talent, sensitivity, and generosity.
Love can hurt so bad.
Ah, but the journey is as important as the destination isn't it? So we're never really too young to write? Just that our conclusions change along the way and somehow become more ordered and complete, tempting us to go back and revise the previous conclusions. Which were valid at the time but now seem incomplete and inappropriate...
Thankyou for sharing Angela.
thanks, shan. have i told you lately, ever, how much your encouragement means? lots, and lots. and lots.
deanna, thank you, too! i'm blushing. again.
sandy, it's all true. the embarrassing thing about me is that i have to edit things out of my life writings to make it sound more believable. i can't tell you how lame it feels to write the words/say the words, "my dad is a crack addict". ugh.
i'm sorry about your own heartbreak and the burden that leaves you with, even as an adult. thanks for sharing.
oh ann, thank god for that mystery of beauty in pain. i'd be dead meat without it.
cherie,
ya. bad.
cecily,
ya, the journey is as important, especially in a relationship when there really is no clearly defined "destination". i think i feel too young because i use my writing to see things clearly and i can't really write into a whole lot of clarity with my dad. he's so varied and so complex, it's like i can't find the unifying theme in his life. maybe it's because i want to get to the heart of him but don't really know what's at the heart? i dunno. i let it sit for a while. time always helps.
"i let it sit for a while. time always helps."
Smart. Wise. Good. True.
You changed your profile pic, you sexy thang!
cherie, you're a turkey. heh, heh.
my aunt told me once that i was, "the tall one".
sigh. it's my cross to carry.
Gobble gobble - I love your new pretty pic. You look like you have a secret, and are just about to share it with us.
My aunt always referred to me as 'the chubby one.' Hmm....can I trade crosses with you?
No? Didn't think so.
I think I commented on how great this is on the other site where it is posted but wanted to let you know I dig the new photo...
cherie, maybe our aunts are related?
leisel, thanks.
nope. no comment on the other blog. i guess you and ann and i all have the same disapearing comment problem. i don't know how many times i've commented on your blog only to never see it again.
I suggest checking extra carefully after commenting to see the top of the window say, "Your comment has been saved." I've noticed after taking a long time to find those long-winded sentences I leave, the comment gods become angry, and only after I reenter the word verification letters does the thing show up.
Yep, I'm back reading comments here after having left one days ago. Just can't stay away.
I like the new picture too. It looks to me like you listening in on us.
I was called fat lips. I guess my lips grew in before my body filled out.
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