Rocking the Boat

Last night I rushed home early for once because of the Canadian federal election.

I helped Buttercup put her shoes on. She was telling me about a boat.

“What kind of boat?” I asked.

“A yellow boat.” (Her favorite colour.)

“Oh a submarine!”

Off we went. The four of us went walking in the lovely fall evening. We basked in the glow of the big, round ball of a moon hanging low in the sky. The darkness was quickly taking over.

We got to the school and walked up the steps. Buttercup asked “Where’s the boat?”

“Oh no honey, not a boat. We are going to vote. But look there is a yellow sign!”

They waited patiently sitting on chairs in the busy school gym while we marked an x on the ballot. It took maybe five minutes out of our day. All done, we cut through the playground making our way home. When Buttercup realized that there was not going to be a boat she broke down in tears. Colin held her while Strawberry ran to get in two times down the slide. But Buttercup wouldn’t join in. She was heartbroken that there would be no boat.

Maybe that’s why 41% of our population did not bother to rock the vote. I hope that Americans do much better than us in their turnout to the polls. I am amazed that some people do not have an opinion or care enough about the state of their world to make their voice heard.

Circled in red

F is the worst letter of the alphabet. F is bad. We learn at a very young age to avoid it at all costs. It is creeping up and is dangling over me. I feel it.

Failure.

I can’t seem to please anyone in my life. If I can’t make anyone else happy, the idea of pleasing me becomes a foreign concept.

Lists, lists, lists… with nothing crossed off. I’m shutting down and not functioning. This is all rather boring. I turn to music to fill up my soul and clear the thoughts. I’m driving my car with the music loud. Angry at the world… Angry at myself…

There is not one thing that I am doing right. Maybe I’m setting myself up for disaster. Nightmares even haunt me while I break from the conscious. Writing this is admitting defeat and waving the white flag. It makes me more depressed.

Kittenpie once told me that I don’t write about personal information and she’s right because this is the direction that would lead me. I don’t want to come off sounding like oh woe is me. Plus I’m too incoherent because I’m too overwhelmed to go into detail. I think it is mind-numbing. Everything is wrong but nothing is wrong. I think I write this same post once a year.

I just want a break from the lists and have some focus on what I’m really supposed to be doing to be happy and content. That is so far off that I just cannot see it. Life shouldn’t be wasted under this heaviness.

I hang on tight, going in circles, feeling motion sickness from the ups and downs. The ride is too short. Is this all there is?