As I mentioned previously... the year is speeding to a close. Closing doors. Endings. It's making me a little blue. The weather has turned cold... again, making me a little blue but in a more frigid sort of way.
The familiar, nagging feeling that the other shoe is about to drop has come back. It often does this time of year. Most of the time, it's just a reminder that I am not getting any younger rather than a harbinger of actual, imminent doom. But while under it's spell, the little black cloud of doom hangs low over me and even as I smile my way through the season, it hovers ominously.
I find myself hoping that there is, that there will be, that there MIGHT be time. I feel like I've gotten to being the age that I am without having accomplished anything of significance. Sometimes, I am more bothered by that than others. I sit and wonder why things are the way they are. I ponder whether I will ever find a purpose and, if/when I do, what will it be?
"And she is standing at the gate.... with all her possibilities" -- words from poems from ages ago but yet it was just the blink of an eye. The poet on the threshold between life and death.
There comes a point, though... when I realize that my musings are taking a dark turn and perhaps it is time to head to bed...or Go To Helyn Wayte.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Long Time, No See
Dear Reader,
It's been quite some time since I was here. I'd nearly forgotten about this little corner of the internet. But then, I made some changes to other corners of the Internet and now here is the appropriate place for that which cannot be expressed elsewhere.
There is a chill in the air. Another year speeds to closure. Holiday decorations have already taken root in the retail wastelands.
I sent an email today to someone I haven't heard from in a couple of years. I know that it will likely float in the ether until the end of time. Unread. With no response forthcoming. Like the emails I have sent over the last two years. Time... and people... move on. Whether we are ready for them to or not.
It's strange. I have someone helping me and I can't quite figure out WHY. I'm so very grateful for the help but this person could be making money in the time they are helping me and still, they choose to offer me what I cannot compensate them for... I hate to think that guilt is the currency in this transaction. I quell the voice inside that says I am owed. A series of unfortunate events obligates no one. We share a laugh over the statement that if a mutual acquaintance, whose half-truths, smoke & mirrors ended up costing both of us, appears again before us, a bullet in his skull would be ever-so-satisfying. Both of us knowing that our integrity and honor would not even allow us so much as a profanity uttered in a raise voice. But what harm is there in a simple, if violent, daydream shared by friends?
I stop to wonder if we really ARE friends... or if that is just the context my mind forces me to in order to be ok with all that has transpired. I hope so desperately that the friendship exists and it isn't that the other party simply does not know how to tell me to Go To Helyn Wayte.
Yours Truly,
Helyn Wayte
It's been quite some time since I was here. I'd nearly forgotten about this little corner of the internet. But then, I made some changes to other corners of the Internet and now here is the appropriate place for that which cannot be expressed elsewhere.
There is a chill in the air. Another year speeds to closure. Holiday decorations have already taken root in the retail wastelands.
I sent an email today to someone I haven't heard from in a couple of years. I know that it will likely float in the ether until the end of time. Unread. With no response forthcoming. Like the emails I have sent over the last two years. Time... and people... move on. Whether we are ready for them to or not.
It's strange. I have someone helping me and I can't quite figure out WHY. I'm so very grateful for the help but this person could be making money in the time they are helping me and still, they choose to offer me what I cannot compensate them for... I hate to think that guilt is the currency in this transaction. I quell the voice inside that says I am owed. A series of unfortunate events obligates no one. We share a laugh over the statement that if a mutual acquaintance, whose half-truths, smoke & mirrors ended up costing both of us, appears again before us, a bullet in his skull would be ever-so-satisfying. Both of us knowing that our integrity and honor would not even allow us so much as a profanity uttered in a raise voice. But what harm is there in a simple, if violent, daydream shared by friends?
I stop to wonder if we really ARE friends... or if that is just the context my mind forces me to in order to be ok with all that has transpired. I hope so desperately that the friendship exists and it isn't that the other party simply does not know how to tell me to Go To Helyn Wayte.
Yours Truly,
Helyn Wayte
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