Virtus Calumnia

This is the first time we’ve gone on a date in a long time that didn’t end in disaster. It was so nice. No fighting, no bickering, no black marks on my soul cast by cruel remarks. Dinner was delicious.

After dinner we had some time to spare so we went to the bookstore. I stood in the middle of the huge isle, surrounded by books and not a care in the world. There were no children to run after, we were in no hurry. I stared at my husband with wide eyes, “I don’t know what to do with myself,”

“Keep walking, you’re blocking the way,”

So I walked. I walked to the fiction section and looked at so many books. I looked in the horror section, the romance section, the fantasy section. There was a very loud woman there. She was talking to her husband who was 5 shelves away from her.

“Why is Patricia Briggs in Fantasy, but Kelley Armstrong is in horror? They write the same stuff!” I agree, but please be quiet, I’m trying to enjoy the book store.

I had a gift certificate and I found an awesome messenger bag for half price. I’ve been looking around for a new bag, since the purse that MadEye got me for my birthday is starting to rip. I loved that purse and I’m sad to see it go, but I’m pretty tough on my purses.

This bag is made of canvas, and although 5 minutes in my house has caused it to look like it’s grown fur, I’m hoping there’s enough fur-free surfaces in my house that it doesn’t attract TOO much hair. It’s a lovely bag, with pockets in the front to hold my e-reader and cell phone. Lovely.

I just got a text from a number that I don’t remember/recognize, and I’ve sent whoever it is a bunch of dick-tit pictures from New Years. “Sorry my phonebook got erased. Who’s this?” Oops. I’m pretty sure it’s my buddy’s brother, but I’m just not going to answer.

It’s not as cold tonight as it has been for the last couple of nights. It’s snowing and it’s beautiful. The moon is almost full and it’s about this time of the winter that I start to crave winter camping. The crisp, fresh air, the silence of the trees, the complete solitude. It settles a restlessness in me, a confined, city bred restlessness. I miss sunlight warm against my skin. The next best thing is trekking out to the middle of no where to enjoy the eternal solitude. It’s amazing how it can centers me; eases the anxiousness of my soul.

I’m scattered all over the place. I have a million things going on inside my head, but nothing to say. I drank diet coke at the movies tonight and I feel like I won’t be able to sleep any time soon. My dreams, when I finally settle into sleep, will be disturbed. It never ceases to amaze me how much diet coke fucks my shit up. It makes me anxious and restless, more anxious and restless that I already feel. We had a coupon and it was free. I didn’t want to waste it. I shouldn’t have had any.

I can’t believe I get to sleep in tomorrow. My parents took the kids and my mom is taking them all out tomorrow, so not only do I get to sleep in, I get to enjoy it without worrying that my mother will ask me to come and pick them up early. This day has been amazing. No kids, a delicious dinner, a nice peruse at the bookstore, a movie and I get to sleep in. It makes me wonder what people who don’t have kids  do. I suppose they work. But what do they do with the rest of their time? Do they know what a luxury free time is?

It kills me when people tell me they’re bored. Boredom is a luxury I wish I could afford.

“Only boring people get bored,” my dad has told me sine I was little, and whining at him about how bored I was. If I only fucking knew. It’s true. I’m never bored. It’s probably because I’m too busy taking care of the zoo that is my house. The kids, my husband, the dog and the cat. The eternal house work. My friends. My job. Game nights that my husband loves to host. Cooking. Swimming lessons. Sigh.


My skin is crawling and I feel trapped. I feel like a caged animal. The saddest thing I’ve ever seen is a polar bear at the zoo, shaking his head back and forth.

“Grans, why is he doing that?”

“Sometimes when they capture wild animals and keep them locked in a cage, they go crazy. They’re aren’t used to being locked up.”

That made my heart weep. I’ve never liked the zoo for what it does to the animals. Now I hate it so much that I refuse to take my kids there. These are creatures that should be free, not gawked at. They should be roaming the earth, hunting and living a free life, not locked up in a cage. Maybe I empathize too much with them, but sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in the cage of my own making.

Imagine what it must be like to run free and hunt in wide open spaces. Fresh air filling your lungs, adrenaline filling your veins. Part of mother nature, wild and free. Then some asshole human decides you should be on display. You’re forced into a tiny space (wow, look at all the space they get!) and someone brings you your meals. You defecate too close to where you sleep and there’s no change in scenery. Locked in by walls. And the endless gawking. Hundreds of people a day walking by to stare and wave and smile at you. I’d go crazy too. Zoo’s depress me. All I ever picture is that poor polar bear, not moving except to shake his head back and forth.

If I could pick any time period to live in, I think it would be pre-Columbus North America. As a native of this land. A free roaming people who lived off the land and were in tune with nature. I would have long hair as a symbol of my relationship to Great Mother and I like to think that I would be a healer. We would run and hunt and probably war with neighbouring tribes. We would skin hides and work from dawn until dusk and put in real days of hard work. But it would be busy work. I bet the levels of conscious anxiety would be next to nothing because idleness is the devil’s playground. We would live and work as a tribe. We would tend the young, all of them together. None of this single, nuclear family business, everyone cut off from the other.

Imagine what it would be like to track an animal, for hours, and to pull back on an arrow and loose it. Praying to the Universe that you aim true, and saying thanks for the life that will feed you and your family. Perhaps I’m romanticizing it, but I feel like that is a more worthwhile existence than the whoring yourself out for money that we partake in today.

“Well, you have to make a living.” Exactly. You have to make a living. You can’t just get a parcel of land and work it. You have to bust your balls to make money so that you can acquire so many things. A house, a car, kids, a life. We oppressed ourselves when we gave up nature to live like ‘civilized’ people.

I wish I lived on a mountain. I wished I could hunt and grow all my own food. I wish I could spend my days ensuring that I have enough stored up to last through the winter. I wish I had more gumption to get up off my ass and actually do something, like take a walk.

Fit by 30. That’s my resolution. I want to be fit by 30. That’s this summer and I’m dreading it. I’m terrified of turning 30. It’s probably because I feel like I haven’t done anything with my life thus far. Why can’t I start tomorrow?

Why can’t I start now?

This is my life and I’m living it one day at a time.



2 responses to “Virtus Calumnia

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