... and saying, things seem to be on the mend at home. Caught myself smiling at V this evening. It's been a while.
I hope he has understood one thing at least. My anger is far less damaging in its implications and expressions than my indifference. And I blog only about the people and things I care for. If I were indifferent, I wouldn't waste my time.
It's funny, in a way. Used to be madly passionate about so many things. But motherhood made me list out my priorities, and now I've finally learnt to not care about the rest of the world. I have a couple of friends, precisely two, whose vagaries I'm used to, and a couple more, who are a little less close but who I'm pretty comfortable being around. I write about them. And I write about my work, my days, what amuses me, and that last includes my husband and kid. It'd be a shame if they weren't a part of this blog, a place I come to everyday. I'll be frank. I'm not one who can neatly compartmentalise her life, and I like my family brought into my work (although not so much vice versa, thank you!) so I cannot imagine leaving them off the blog.
If somebody thinks that's exploitative, well, their problem. Not mine, my husband's or my son's. They know I write about them because it's hard to leave them out of my stuff. Not because I think they make for attractive reading. And it's weird how people think I spill my guts out here, because, I'm sorry, but I really don't. I only tell as much as I'd tell a stranger at a bus-stop to unburden myself. I've often thought if V had a similar outlet, he and I would deal much better together. It's easier to get back to your senses once you've let off some steam.
Blank Noise Kolkata met today at Flury's and we had fun. Also discussed some serious work. Good, good.
NOTE: Inspired by Kiran and then Dooce.