'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

there's this meme

Perhaps you've seen it. It's the meme in which you collect the first lines of your first blog entries for each month of the year and string 'em together. Maybe more interesting, at least in my case, to the blogger than to the (other) audience for it. But, I must say, I opened up the pages for the first day of each month, and it got me to thinking, you know, it's been a hell of a year.

In a good way. Most decidedly so.

I wonder whether it might surprise you to hear me say that, given how angst-y full of hoo-ha my postings here have been now and then, and how "what the fuck is she talking about?," and how stuff like that there.

What can I say. It's been a contemplative time.

Sometimes it's hard for me to remember the goodness of a contemplative time. When it goes on along with coming back to life, a little, anyway. Being called back to the things of this world, as the poet pegs it.

Had a ghost in the elevator with me today. First ride I took thereon after someone else expressed not believing in those ghosts. I knew pretty quick which one it was. And that she was happy. I called her Happy D.J. Realized she's a little taller than I am. I don't know that from real life, since I never knew her, but I know it now.

Anyway. As I read back over the openings of the months (I'm about halfway through), it's not just (stuff like) remembering Molly Ivins, and remembering how moved I was remembering her. It's also ---well, I've felt alive a lot this year. Sounds perhaps pretty dumb/obvious to some of you, and perhaps over-the-top trite reductive or otherwise rhetorically suspect to others (like me), but, thing is, it's true. Not always alive as in "ain't it good to be alive." I mean, make no mistake. Coming back to life is coming back to all of life.

Was also thinking I was writing (what to me seem) better posts here earlier this year. That is to say, I like reading some of those more than I like most of what I've typed here lately.

That's a matter of having spirit in you, too, I think. It all depends on the spirits of the time, of the moment(s). She said, even more tritely than whatever that was that she was saying tritely above. ;)

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