Compost

I took all the fruit and seeds and stems and leaves and put them in a bin.  It all turned into... crap.

I had step-grandparents when I was younger.  They lived on several acres and they had many animals and a huge garden.  After Grandpa passed, several people from the community and their church would come in the spring and summer and work the garden for Grandma.  I remember people would go to the goat pen and get "good rich dirt" for the garden.  That's what they called it.  But it was really just goat poop that had been there for a long time, right?

What a shitty metaphor I'm working on here (haha... shitty...).  What I was eventually hoping to get around to was that sometimes good things can come out of the bad (swung right from a bad metaphor to a cliche, there... Awesome).  Sometimes crap can turn into something that really helps things grow.

There's been a lot of crap since 2010 when I last freaking blogged.  There's been a lot of crap since YESTerday.  Quite frankly, I'm sick of the crap.

So.

It's time to turn that shit into "good rich dirt."  Time to grow for real.  Someone with an MA and a bunch of other letters recently told me that I am "really stuck" and "just so damaged."  It was sort of vindicating... "SEE?  I really AM screwed up!  No wonder I'm having such a hard time!"  But that went away pretty quickly and I thought, "Oh.  I'm really stuck.  I am just so damaged.  Crap."

And it's the truth, Ruth.  A fact, Jack.

Enough is enough.  Every day, from now until forever, I have to do the work.

There is so much work.

Sometimes waking up feels like work.

Sometimes fun feels like work.

Growing useful plants from the ground?  That has ALWAYS felt like work.  I envy those who find the pleasure and the zen in it.

Anyway.  I have work to do.  It's part of why I started writing this again (this feels like work, too).  I have to get my shit together.

And I'm hoping maybe it will stop feeling like shit, stop feeling like work, and start to feel like growth and life again.