Grateful: Day 98 - Monsters and Butterflies

There are monsters at the door today. They have bad teeth and they are unkind, but no doubt all they want is a meal or a bit of fur ruffled behind their ears.

The pond was gentle with me this morning. And how fantastic - Ruth came too! First time in two months, and in she went. Middle of January. The woman is inspiring, you have to admit it. I read a definition of courage today: 'being brave enough to do something even if it scares you.' I like that. Even after a week, I was scared. After two months, that's more, but in she went. I think I need a bit more courage. I think there's more I could muster.

The water 'gets' a different part of my body every day. Today it was my legs. Most noticeably my ample calves. Do you say calves when you're talking about limbs, or calfs. I don't know. Those big bits that help me get up hills and stand on my pedals. They prickled like they were lying on tiny beds of nails. The rush of blood that comes on getting out was delicious, the water of the shower hot and fast. It was a high point of my day.

I have worked all day. I am grateful for the document I proofed today, and the tiny bit of Spanish work that acted as a respite. I was disappointed when I realised I didn't have to translate anything. There I was, doing it anyway. If only I could have, I'd have carried on and done it for the fun of it. That's information, that is.

The other work, not so much. One set of comments that I think I'm supposed to respond to is in a language that I don't speak. Another set are (to me, at least) unintelligible. I don't know what to do. The third lot, okay. Much clearer to understand what to do, but so disappointing. All the bits of it I'd thought to be creative, inspiring or at all motivating have been cut. But that's quite right. It's not for me, what I'm writing. It's for people with completely different perspectives. It's all information, this. I need to move away from doing work that hurts and focus more on joy and play (and good friends). I feel like I'm turning writing into a painful chore, and that's not how I want this thing to be.

I let down a good friend because of this work. I take responsibility. It was me who let her down. I'm really sorry for that, and it's the choice I made. To stay here and work rather than go and keep my promise and see my friend, who I've missed. The work is making my head hurt. I feel like it's eating up my soul in tiny bites. I think I need to turn around and eat it up instead.

This writing, though, is soothing. It salves away the worries of the world, the weight of pushing against that door to keep the clawed ones out. It turns the monsters into butterflies and lets them lift themselves away on gusts of wind.

This 'monster' really made me smile. I'm grateful for that. He was at a games conference of some kind. A lot of effort has gone into his look. The's worked hard. I like to think that none of this is pre-made, that he's been collecting rags for weeks to create this creature. That the mouth was fashioned from a colander stolen from his auntie's kitchen somewhere in Nordrheinwestfalen.

And look in the background. Nobody's even looking. I hope the person taking this is his wide-eyed girlfriend, totally in love, dressed as a pixie or some fantastical nymph of her own choosing. I hope she's so proud to be seen with this, her monster man. Yes, that's the way it is. You just have to look.