From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Saturday, April 19, 2008

'You're being anti-social'

So I am. So?

We had a very fun time going to a violin recital today with Skembo's... but playing with Mikey made me so homesick fpr my boys that I can't cope with going out and playing with them more... sorry guys. :(

AND I just remembered I'm over reacting like this because I forgot to take my meds. for two days. Oops.

But I'm back to normal looking... see no more chipmunk cheeks: (will upload those photos when i can...)


EDIT
AND I got a letter today that my great friend just called off her wedding to the guy she has wanted to marry for about 6 years... I don't know the particulars, but it makes me sad. She was SO happy in her pictures...
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1 comment:

Janika said...

Happy in pictures is always deceiving darling. You are really good at showing people your happy pictures (that's what everybody else's blogs are too.) What I learned after I got divorced, but am still really bad at applying is: when you put on the happy play, nobody will help you. Then you get more lonely, spiral, spiral, etc. Thanks for letting us in on your frustration.

April 20, 2008 at 8:23 PM

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