Rugguts

I feel stuck in between a place of having nothing to write about and everything to write about and so I will deliver it in bitesize chunks that may or may not make much sense to anyone else but me.

I knowingly killed a creature for the first time in many, many years. I like the Buddhist concept of not killing bugs and things but I was having a moment of feeling like the whole world was a big steaming jobby, and what good was trying to be caring all the time really doing me anyway?, so I swatted a bluebottle that was buzzing around my bedroom a few nights ago. I have several things to say about this. I only did after spending what seemed like an eternity trying to usher it out the window. Ziggy looked at me like I was a hypocrite because of all the times I've told him not to play rough with spiders. He then ate the fly the following evening. Also, it was completely in vain for I felt like an evil person and the fly came back to haunt me anyway. It's still here and I shan't be killing it again even though it buzzed in my ear as if to say "murderer"

I have come to the realisation that I, perhaps, love Ziggy too much after incessantly worrying that he was missing the town. I took him on the train for a walk to his old stomping ground. I am vaguely aware that I'm projecting my own feelings onto him. Do I miss the town? Yes. Do I regret coming home? No. What I miss isn't going anywhere. It's all available in the future when I have saved up some money to enjoy it. But I do love Ziggy so and wonder how I will travel for 3 months without him. Maybe I will only go away for 2 and a half months and spend 2 weeks on a roadtrip with Ziggy.

I have been going through a process of trying to rebalance and reconcile my internal and external worlds. My mum has been patiently helping me. I think the psychodynamics module has made me look even deeper within myself and I've started to allow feelings that were previously repressed. This came as a bit of a shock to me as I thought I had my shit together. And I do for the most part. It's about taking the facade away though and realising that I do not have to constantly be my 'ideal' self. It's goddamn exhausting. I can be her when I feel like it and a pissy, moany bitch the rest of the time. Neither one of those states of being defines who I really am.

I'm not sure that there's much else. I'm trying to stay on top of course work. I guess that's why I'm blogging. I dream of holidays everyday. I dream of, once again, surfing the blowhole. I dream and I work and I wait and I tick and I tock like a clock. And, mostly, life is good.