Defying Fortune

Broken Wing

((The Music))
I'm a big Flyleaf fan. They're band that fits almost any mood. They shred. They soothe. They yell at the top of their lungs, then sink into a lullaby. "Broken Wing" is actually one of their more mellow tunes. All of their acoustic tracks are sensational as well. Flyleaf is external chaos to match the internal mental jumble.

((The Life))
It is the first day of March. A new month; a new chess match.

I've going through the grief process by avoiding it completely, taking only a few quiet moments a day to let the grief out. Maybe its cultural, or hormonal, or simply a humanistic need to survive, but I find that I can't sit down and mourn. I have to keep busy. I have to keep moving.

And so I have for most of the weekend. If I'm not going through the motions of bad sleep, I've been cleaning around the house, washing clothes, cooking for the ladies at the convent, reading old books, watching old shows, building term papers in my head, reviewing like a crazy woman, etc.

I don't want to stand still - reality will crash down on my head if I do.

My mom and I have dedicated our time to cooking. We made two meatloafs and a large pot of spaghetti with meatballs, and she took it over to the convent. I was suppose to go, but couldn't bring myself to actually step out the door. I can't fathom an empty house without June there. Not just yet. My mom got back tired and drained. She told me they have plans to turn June's room into a prayer room, using her items as meditation stations. This, I think, is a marvelous idea. June would have loved it.

S, her niece and leader of this make-shift convent, said she wanted me to pick out a necklace and bracelet from among her things. I silently cried in the pan I was making dinner in. I couldn't help it. I still can't when I think about it.

Afterward, I bombarded my mind with a nap and television, watching old episodes of Criminal Minds online. The last episode I watched sent a chill to my soul, but what stuck with me most was the quote at the end by Issac Asimov -- "In life, unlike chess, it continues after checkmate." Bloody hell, is that not the truth?

To continue along the path of constant motion I've decided to do MarNoWriMo this year. My intention is to write at least 25k using three projects: "Invalid Item" , "Invalid Item" , "Invalid Item" . I'm insane. Yet this is the only way I know how to function. I mean to actually complete this though. I can't see another way around it but to continue straight ahead, through the sorrow and pain, to the other side of the damn chessboard.