tenderfoot gardener

“I must Create a System or be enslav’d by another Man’s.”
- William Blake

Maybe I am :) or maybe not. I have been so weak physically for several weaks, that I bumped into things, was rather clumsy, not concentrated (might be because of catching a cold). This is ok in general, but in my case it made me self-ashamed, which caused some more problems. Self-assuredness left me. Terrible.

But the idiotic situation made me more self-observant. And I have seen things about myself that I have been failing to notice before, like the always-sweet voice I speak to people (damned positive attitude!). Maybe I have been mad, for many years, not noticing it (of course, like all madmen). I am too inclined to welcome people, while most of normal people are well-trained to piss you off whether for a good reason or not, just in case, even when saying ‘hi’. Okay, noted. I am being more neutral.

Somewhere deep inside I do not care if they call me mad or not. I do not want to be like them. And, frankly speaking I think even with this label I feel happier than them. I am sure. They do not value simple things. They care about opinions. I don’t.

Anyway, I started to jog regularly, and I feel better now, it is also easier to be myself (I am still regarded crasy perhaps). At least I will be an athletic fool. A happy athletic fool. Cheers to people like me!

Today I finished a thing I have been avoiding for a long time – organized my childhood album.

I used to have a very nice old album. It was a simple album with grey cardboard leaves on which pictures were glued. And some of the pages were decorated – Mom and me did it when I still was a kid. And then suddenly one day my supersmart wonderful Dad destroyed it – tore the pictures out or cut them from the album together with the grey cardboard, and inserted into a new plastic transparent-film album. He never asked if I wanted it. Just did it. I was so upset about it. He never understood what the point was. He never understands this kind of things. He does not care.

I kept that new album for some time but then realized it irritates me and picked out the pictures and threw the dead book away.

Today I finally organized the photos into a new one. “Standard”, of course – plastic pockets. Luckily I saved some decorations from the old album to liven it up.

Childhood pictures tell a lot, reminding of many things and people they give answers. Like watching a story about yourself.