It's useless to feel useless.

I used to be really good at Facebook.

I don't hate Facebook as an application. I don't hate the interface, or the fonts, or even the 8th or 9th upgrade itai gone through. I don't hate the posts, photos, or memes.

I hate Facebook in the same way that I hate a hangover. Never mind how the hangover happened.

I have forgotten how to use Facebook, just as I've forgotten how to go out for photo walks by myself. It's more of a habit to avoid Facebook for fear of all of the negativity that comes with it.

I feel annoyed that the feed isn't consistent. Frustrated that I see more ads than friend content. And sad when I see friends pictures popping up out of no where without me in it.

I hate how resentful I feel in that moment that I'm scrolling because it only takes 5 seconds for me to go from " oh, I miss them!" to "how come we don't talk anymore" to "maybe I should message them?" and them immediately to "they probably don't want to hear from me or they would message me."

And then I have another argument with myself on how sillty and useless that train of thought is. I go back to the family photos and funny pictures of pets and beautiful vacation pictures and start to remember why I got into it in the first place.

Being on Facebook felt like a weight was lifting knowing people would understand, appreciate, remember. And that weight feels as though it's floated on down. It was effortless and as easy as breathing. And it was intoxicated being engaged with so many people all of the time and truly believing that what I said mattered, not knowing that it was okay that it didn't matter. If that makes any sense.

Facebook is the reminder that I don't live in a certain way anymore and my brain and heart are having a fight about how I should be feeling about that sobering fact.

I hate that I seem to only find time to look at Facebook is after the kid goes to bed. Like showing up to the party while people are trying to exit. And there's me, blocking the door way asking how everyone is doing while they are putting on their coats and get on with their nights.

I can say that I hate Facebook. But it's not Facebook's fault. I don't hate Facebook at all, you see. Not really.

Thanks for reading.

Incredible thoughts, incredible minds.

I'm a procrastinator. I wouldn't blame anxiety for it. Just my many practiced years of putting things off. Waiting until the very last minute. Or forgetting.  I was once described as a perfectionist where I would be so concerned with things being right that whatever task I had set before me I wouldn't be able to live up to it.

Do it right, or not at all. So in the end, nothing gets done. I'm the worst kind of perfectionist.

I scare myself out of a lot of things, usually I tell myself it's for the best but now that I'm old itsi unwise to be this way.

Caleb has been soesleep in his own bed for a couple of weeks now. I ended our nightly ritual very abruptly. To no one's shock, he got over it pretty quickly. Turns out it was me who was holding on to the cuddles and comfort nursing. And it gave me my excuse for my insomnia. Now he's off in dreamland and I am alone and I still can't just fall asleep so here I am, writing a blog on my cell phone again.

Sleep has never come easy to me. I could never just close my eyes and turn off without the day flashing back at me. I bought some sleep aids but they only work in a way that pulls me into a sleep but any slight sound and I'm awake. And I'm just blinking in the dark, reaching for my phone, staring into the abyss of my yucky thoughts. Or dream shopping for my future house. Really useless habits i cannot shake.

The best sleep I ever had was when I was in the first trimester of pregnancy and couldn't keep my eyes open. IdI call in on my shifts and wouldn't even lie about what was going on. I slept so well, and anywhere. Even on the bus which was a bit scary.

Now I am lucky to get 10 hours in a week.

Anyone have any sleep tips that do not involve Essential oils or buying a directly sold product I am all ears. And eyes.

When you have a catch phrase, the world is catched by your phrase.

It's after 10pm and I'm sitting in the office with Brian. We're watching Popstar on the computer while he cleans his riffle and I blog away. We're pretty quiet tonight since we're both just coming down from our very busy weekends. We each had out own thing going on and we've come together tonight in this room to unwind a bit.

 It's times like these I wish I could get away with chopping all of my hair off but we all know that'll never happen. We have these bird houses in the back yard that I'm afraid to move because maybe there are birds or mice living in there. It's rude to move someone's tiny house without notice.

Caleb and I hit up a lot of parks this weekend. Being outside requires a lot of energy. And dealing with a lot of sweat in my eyes. This kid can play, he doesn't give any damns about the heat wave. He's in the precious phase of running away from me when I try to tell him it's time to leave. It's great when we're near the lake. Nothing like going from sitting on the bench to a dead ass run to make sure you're kid doesn't go for a swim.

Emily and I drove out to Gananoque but not without getting completely lost and driving almost 45 minutes past where we needed to be. I might be the worst navigator and driver on this side of the 401. My poor car took a beating on the gravel road. I'll probably drive that silver little devil into the ground just in time for the last payment to go through.

Look at this thing? Only at the cottage does this exist and nobody asks why.

 

Visiting that cute little cottage reminded me of the times when my parents would stuff the whole family with the cats and dog into the van and make the trip out to Portage du Fort, QC. I used to hate driving there but once we got there it was lovely. Sure, there were lots of giant wolf spiders and other terrible mutant bugs, the river was clear and cold and we had so much fun fishing and playing cards. I don't think I ever slept better in my days then when we were at the cottage.

Will I post actual camera photos in my next blog spot? Stick around to find out.

Lay it down, let me see your hand.

Blogging from my cell is harder than I thought. It will have to do since I have absolutely no idea where my laptop pieces are. I can't say when the last time was hat I used it.

Brian has the office set ip but it's set up for his gaming and I don't want to mess with what hesh going on in there.

I recall the days when I would have my laptop open on my bed while photoshopping and Lightrooming every photon until was just as moody as I wanted it to be. I'm much more easy going with my photography now that the standard is Instagram 4x4

Don't worry, I won't be blogging about how sicias media is ruining photography. You've read that enough, ironically from your cell phone right after xhecchec your Facebook notifications. No one needs another Hail Mary opportunity. Forgive me, father for I have sinned. I text more than I call someone and I check my accounts alot more than I should. Swallow that guilt and get back to those hashtags. Once a week you should pick up a real book and unplug and tell everyone the next day how amazing you are for it.

If this is the way, I must be the most amazing humblest oerspe alive. Do you know how often I miss text messages? Phone calls? Entire group chat threads? Too many. I'm the next level disconnecting diva.

Or, jerkface. I'm sorry I am a jerk face. I don't mean to be this way. I guess it's because I am easily distracted, I forget a lot. I am wired to disconnect and float off in my own head. ImI not better than anyone because I don't always have my phone around. I'm worse.

I would like to get my computer back up and running. I want to see what just of music I syost had on my laptop. What old photos are lingering around. Back when I was all about my Flickr, I gad tons of unused photos just waiting dfo a second glance. I loved editing because it gave me time to sit in my own head while being productive and creative. I'm working on that fear of creativity.

So far this is the nostalgia time machine blog where I stsrt and finish with a sigh. Stoil with me?

Excuse me for a while, while I'm wide-eyed and I'm so down caught in the middle.

It's been a long while, hasn't it? Not just since I blogged here. But since I've felt like I had something to say.

Don't be fooled, I may not have anything to say all. I am inspired by my friend who picked it up and the title of his blog is just the damndestd of truths.

Right now, I'm writing this on my phone while Caleb falls asleep on me. His face is smashed up in my neck and he's breatybre slow but it could be too soon to try to sneak away. I have to play this out, Indiana Jones style.

Maybe I am just delaying myself because even though I haven't slept properly in years I do enjoy the cuddle time. He's got me wrapped around his pinky, it's terrible.

I would describe myself as a parent the same I would as a regular person. Yeilding. Impressionable. Relaxed. And still trying to see where exactly I fit into all of this life. Into anything.

I was worried about getting too poetic. People I know might read this and think uh oh.

Or they might think nothing at all. I shouldn't care too much about it. I want to do this again. Just in a different way. We can get into this bit another time. Not ready to scars you off yet.

Like, today was a bit of a write off. I made a big breakfast and a peach cobbler for dinner, watched a movie, did 80% of the laundry and watched the boy ride his trike around. Poor Brian was bored to death. We wanted to go for a hike or something but we'd be peeling ourselves off of the pavement. Maybe in a few years time when Caleb is older we can go to a cottage and be one with the breeze and trees.

If I don't get up now and leave I will fall asleep in the kiss tiny toddler bed. And now one will let the cat in

And she'll bring us more.... presents. We don't need more of gifts.