Wretched week

I haven't written much recently.

The week past wasn't much to talk about anyway, filled with disappointment and bits of sheer horribleness, from two major fronts, and then the coping with, which was very angsty and boring.

I had a dream a year or so ago where i'd booked myself into a rather nice hotel and told no one where i was. I can't remember why, but the feeling of utter liberation and joy surprised me, especially since i thought i was happy. Did i long to be freed? and from what? very strange. I know dreams are often just random scrambled eggs from the chicken of life, but i also think that what you think about what you've dreamt can be meaningful, and that thought stuck with me.

On a particularly wretched night last week, whilst reading Jeanette Winterson's latest offering, something occurred to me that i kept forgetting until i picked up the book again and now that i've finished it i'd better write it down somewhere. It's nothing revelatory, but wouldn't it be nice if we could all escape our lives when we had to, just for awhile?

Wouldn't it be nice if we could put little time-outs on our lives, not necessarily stop time exactly, but er.. duck out of it for a bit? and perhaps book into quiet little time-out hotels and stay within quiet walls and walk around quiet beaches/forests/random geography until we felt we could bear to live our lives again? It's no use running away from most things, i imagine... and i suppose there would have to be a time limit of sorts, and the time would have to be borrowed from the end-wards of one's life, with interest perhaps, but I imagine it would help.

And then i think what a ridiculous girl i am, since i have nothing to complain about, really. It's not as if i have 5 hungry children and an alcoholic husband, or am paraplegic, or terminally ill, or sold into slavery, and i suppose one would say well that puts it into perspective, doesn't it? Which is true, but also a little annoying because that's only one perspective, we could also use the perspective that we're just tiny little dots on the surface of one of many tiny little dots in one of many clusters of tiny little dots and so on... and hence everything is unimportant, or, alternatively, we are each of us an entire world, or at least we build our own world with our friends and families, and scale our experiences accordingly.

It's no use being unhappy and feeling guilty about it too.

So there.