Stuff

I don't DO titles. ^^;

I took my beautiful paper journal which Erin gave me and turned it into a 'positive' journal; you know, 5 things I'm grateful for, beautiful things I see, that kind of thing. I guess I can stick stuff in (although I know from experience this leads of a fat, messy journal) and write down nice things that happen to me. Hopefully this will make me have a positive outlook at least sometimes in the day...

In other news, I'm really enjoying Guides (although strictly speaking the unit I'm with is the Rainbows, age 5-7). People always misinterpret not wanting children as HATING children. Not so; I like children very much, especially young ones. I just don't want my own, for a variety of reasons, not least that I enjoy my life with free time and money and I don't want to be trapped. I don't want the process of BEARING children (a medical nightmare for me anyway); I don't want to give up the things I do, the things that make me, ME, I don't want to lose who I am, for a child. I wouldn't be a good mother; I'd resent them taking over my life and therefore it's all the mores sensible to not have them in the first place. Happily He doesn't want any either, so win/win all round. Yes, occasionally, I feel sad that I won't have anyone to pass heirlooms onto, but I NEVER get broody, I never feel unfulfilled and I look forward to being free (more or less) my whole life to do whatever I want. Selfish? Maybe, but at least I'm aware of it. But I want pets and gardens and books and things that take a lot of time and energy and I'm not willing to expend that on babies instead.

Nonetheless, I think a lot of what makes Rainbows fun is that I can relive my own childhood in a safe, unembarrassing way (yeah, I joined in on the trifle making, what of it?) and also it's nice to see that wide-eyed wonder children see the world with. People lose that fragile ability to look at something and see such amazement in it that it might be the most precious thing ever to have been looked upon. And then five minutes later, it's something else. And that never stops. Even hurts, while deep and agonising at the time, fade to surprise or that wonderful, gut-wrenching terror of something totally incongruous like a shadow in the wrong place. I miss that terror most of all because I find it incredibly inspiring.

When I was younger I used to be SO afraid of an overgrown stump by the signpost on our road. It was all covered in moss and I was certain it housed an evil spirit. Occcasionally I'd even leave little offerings of biscuits there, like some primitive Druidess. Seriously. But I vaguely remember the sheer skin-crawling fear of walking past it; like it would suck out my soul and steal me away or something, to live in the moss with it and turn into a distorted wood-creature. Or just that it would curse me or I'd wake up in the night and there it'd be at the foot of my bed, lurking and malevolent.

It's hard to feel that any more. Now, of course, I realise there are rational reasons for (OK, most) evil; human thought and ingenuity, what I'll be forced to term 'accidents' of nature, like hurricanes, bad choices, stupid acts, hate. Awful, anger inducing but, in terms of real horror, in the pit of your stomach, personal true horror, empty. for But there's never that wonderful, irrational fear of something that, in truth, could never really hurt you. And that didn't make it a JOT less terrifying because you believed it could. I suppose I mean imagination. Yes, I've lost imagination. This is why no matter what I try, I can achieve 'gory', 'distressing' 'creepy', even 'horrifying' but HONESTLY, never real TERROR.

Wow, did that ever go off-topic?