bonjour 👋☕️ 🇫🇷 paris...

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bonjour 👋☕️ 🇫🇷 paris...
what's in her mug?
Lynera’s list
tucker: theres like nothing in the pantry what do you even ea-
dot: [bites into an onion like its an apple]
tucker:
Rant.
I am anxious as hell. My dad and siblings went up to Billings, MT today to spend the weekend with my mom in the hospital. That leaves me alone in the house for about 36-48 hours. I haven’t been alone since October, and I’m having a surprising amount of separation anxiety about it. Doesn’t help that I can’t drive any of the vehicles, as I’m not on the insurance. Additionally, I’m having to think about how in the hell I’m going to move a car load of stuff from Syracuse, NY to Powell, WY. I’m still in the mindset of being broke as fuck, despite the fact that my dad in supporting me right now. But even he is struggling financially with medical bills on top of how much work he’s had to miss since my mom was diagnosed back in November. My siblings seem to be incredibly unconcerned about this and continuously want to buy unnecessary things. I’ve also taken on the responsibility of gettin’ shit done, which includes the endless amount of dishes, laundry, and the perpetual mess that is my family’s house. They’ve been here eight months and still haven’t unpacked all the boxes and everything is strewn about in a constant state of chaos. I took the liberty of cleaning up what my sister calls “the junk room,” which is, in fact, the room my mom uses as her closet. (It’s original purpose was a small, spare bedroom/office.) There are SO. MANY. CLOTHES. You have no idea. I’m not gonna lie. I’m not doing a fantastic job. I try to keep the kitchen under control, as it is the one room that tends to get absolutely fucked in under an hour. I also make a point of feeding all of the animals in the morning, and trade off with my sister in the evenings. I make dinner every night, manage the grocery shopping, and keep the dishes out of the sink. But my mental endurance is waning, and I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping. I don’t want my mom to come home from the hospital to an absolute wreck, even if it is what she’s used to. I need this place to be nice, and maintainable, so that when I’m managing her needs while my dad is at work, I’m not scrambling to find or clean things. My sister is good about helping when I ask her. She’s only 17 and has been managing this place while my mom’s been sick (which started long before her diagnosis). Her strength is commendable, and I don’t know how she does it. But we can all tell that she’s getting tired too. And just last night, she injured her hand badly enough to need a splint on one of her fingers. So she’s a bit incapacitated at the moment. My brother on the other hand has never been one for true functionality, in any shape or form. That in addition to the fact that his best friend died the day before my mother ended up being flown to a different state for an internal bleed and you could safely say that he is in a terrible depression spiral. We’re trying to offer him what help we can, but he seems to be entirely disinterested in anything that isn’t his computer. Which is pretty standard for him. My dad is holding up better than expected. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the man do his own laundry, but he’s doing it. I make dinner mostly for him when he gets home from work, and I think that helps. I have no idea what he was eating before I got here, as my siblings and my mom don’t really cook. It never occurred to me when I moved out that no one in this house knows how to really cook. My mom tries. She’s good at following recipes. But cooking to her is like magic, and she doesn’t really understand how it works, how to season things, or why. I may take the weekend alone to just get everything upstairs straightened up, aside from my brother’s room. I just look around at all the clutter and have no fucking clue where to begin. Laundry and dishes remain in my priority list, but after that’s done, what am I supposed to do with the random yarn everywhere? The spinning wheel that doesn’t have a home? The stacks of mail yet to be opened? The random ass odds and ends that don’t belong to anyone but for some reason seem too important to throw away? Stacking it in piles just to wait for it to get fucked up again seems redundant. And don’t even get me started on the half opened boxes down stairs that haven’t been touched since 2016.
June 1, 2018 - Day 347
A lovely evening catching up with an old friend.
1 June 2018
20 minutes at bedtime
Continuing on the progressively increasing length of meditation time, I meditated for 20 minutes last night. The night before last, I meditated for 15 minutes.
While writing the blog yesterday, I bet on one thing. Considering that at 20 minutes, I’d be settling into the Hong Sau technique, I expected one thing. I expected recently collected memories to take up my attention. With a certain force (of habit), I expected the shallow subconscious to throw memories at me. These memories are the precursor to what lies beneath. The absurd dream making mind lies deeper than the shallow memory watching mind.
‘Caught the shallow subconscious by surprise I guess. From the opening prayers, count breathing and relaxation exercises, I went straight to observing my breath unto stillness. All I watched in wonder was my breath calming into long pauses. There were no recent memories distracting me from the (in)activity at hand. I seem to have gone right past my shallow subconscious and into the beginning of the deeper end. Lost the bet. Cool.
Meditation is such a win-win situation. When you lose bad, you learn something intimate about yourself. When you lose a bet, you have actually won at being somewhat spiritual. Cool. Godspeed our noble aspirations !
1.6.2018
Firma …Feierabend …Mittagessen …Mittagsruhe …Stadtfest geschaut …Abendessen zubereitet …Columbo geschaut …Beine hoch …eingepennt …22.15 Uhr munter geworden …Koffer gepackt …morgen Müritz …………………….
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