dailydoseofweb

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

My writings have been sporadic at best and extremely limited as of late. I have even hit a snag in my professional writing much to my editor’s dismay. I have not run out of subject material. There are so many places and things within California to write about and My Joe has been keeping me busy enough that I should have much to write in a personal sense and yet…..

I must confess I think I am missing the chaos of our old home and even the annoyances.

I am also missing Shelton’s crew. They left a few weeks ago to go on their own little vacation to Las Vegas as well as look into some of the surrounding states.

It is different without them here. Quieter. More like home and yet not. Perhaps that is the reason for the home sickness. I have grown accustomed to Shelton’s Crew and their chaos. Waking up to whatever new concoction Shelton crafted “in the interest of widening your horizons Dictionary.” Engaging Sledge in conversation about whatever new book he is focused on. Joking around with Lew. Discussing philosophy with Burgin.

I miss them.

Genuinely.

What is wrong with me?

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

I must admit….I have not felt much like writing these days. Not for a lack of trying simply from a lack of drive, I suppose.

There has been plenty to write about. I could always wax poetry for hours about my Joe and his passions or detail the quiet moments we find for ourselves.

I could go into detail about Shelton and how he and his brood have seemingly reached an impasse with me. Or how Lew agrees with me that there is something otherworldly about Shelton.

I could write so much about any and all of these things but…but I have and mostly? I just find myself content with living those moments rather than writing them. It is an unusual feeling for me. To not feel driven to write and record everything.

Perhaps that will change. Perhaps not.

One thing is certain….

….I find my thoughts far

more settled these days.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

Sometimes I get hit with the strangest of feelings.

An electric jolt of sudden anxiety.

A burst of soured panic.

Waves of despair.

Most worryingly, a feeling of just wanting to not be. Just for a bit. As if, time were to stand still and I could have all the time in the world to just sit and breathe. It is this feeling that worries me sometimes. It comes unexpectedly, without warning and sometimes lingers for a day or so and other times it is only for a few hours.

Each time, I tell my Joe or Babe or Chuck. Whoever happens to be closest when the feeling strikes and they each help in their own ways.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

I think that makes at least four restaurants that we have been banned from now.

My Joe wears it like a badge of honor.

I feel like he has a goal.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

I never thought I would love the day my dear Joe fought with a restaurant owner.

Yet, here I am. Completely enamored with this man that has the gall to call out someone for their bigotry while simultaneously insulting every business decision they have ever made all while swearing up a storm that would make even Guarnere impressed.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

My love is an ocean and today I found myself drowning in the depths of it.

It is a glorious feeling and one I would not trade for the world.

My darling husband. I never thought you could find more ways to endear yourself to me and yet you surprise me time and time again.

My dear wonderful Joe fought for me and though I would never ask him to, he defended my name.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

People often speak of love in terms of a burning flame and I have often found myself making the comparison as well.

I do believe that love can often be a burning flame for I have felt it like a raging inferno in my veins but I do not think it to be the most accurate.

They can both burn fiercely, brightly and equally dim and burn out. Love…love is different though. It can crash into you like a tidal wave. Be as endless as an ocean or as deep as a puddle. It can ebb and flow like the tide. Be as fierce as a tempest and as tame as still waters.

No.

Love is like water. Fluid, ever changing and found in many forms.

My love is an ocean.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

Motivation is hard to come by lately and I do not understand why. I am essentially in my dream location with my greatest love. I am seeing new sights, doing things I have never experienced and all with my friends by my side.

I should be overwhelmed with joy and inspiration. I should be taking in each new sight and wanting to remember them always. I should be at peace.

And yet…..I find my self struggling to even write this much. I should be over the moon but instead I feel hallowed out, as if I am submerged underwater and trying to float back to the top.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

The desire to throw myself to the sea still heavily resides within but it is lessening.

I have told myself to put the whole incident behind me. It is time to move on. It is rather comedic, I suppose. It entertained my Joe and our boys which is an upside in the grand scheme of things.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

I am trying.

It’s all I can do.

Breathe, get up and try again.

Even though all I want to do is cast myself deep into the tides sometimes.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

Today I sat along the shore and simply breathed in the ocean air. The sound of the tide and the feeling of the water on my feet helped calm me immensely.

I feel more centered. More at ease.

Better yet, Shelton has yet to come out and try any of his hijinks.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

I stared too longingly at the ocean today and my Joe grew frustrated with me.

Told me to, “Get over it already. It’s not that bad.”

How do I tell him that my dreams are full of a Cajun Armond whispering a mixture of fact and fiction? Quotes straight from the book spoken in Shelton’s voice mixing with the man’s perverse jokes and innuendos. I cannot look at him without feeling my ears turn red and yet everywhere I turn there he is.

He continues to follow me and say “I want you” or utter things in French that I am hopeless to understand.

And…..

I do not know what to do.

It is driving me mad.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

Maybe I can throw myself to the sea.

The waves can carry my body where none can follow and my shame will lie at the bottom of the ocean.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Journal,

I can never show my face around this place again.

How humiliating.

4 and a half hours and I could have left after an hour and a half. Why was a I cursed to live like this? A brilliant mind wrapped in ignorant and stupid packaging.

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Web,

I’m starting to get a little disappointed in you David. It’s been a little over four hours and yet you’re still stuck in that office. Did you give up or simply get distracted with melancholy writings?

There have been three more poems/letters pushed under the door. Each one more depressing than the last. I hate to say it David but you need to pull yourself together you sad sap.

Your last note was literally three lines and it was some of the saddest shit David.

“Loneliness wraps around me like serpent. It waits…tightening its cold coils for the final strike.

I miss you all like a dessert misses the rain.”

If this goes on much longer Babe is going to open the door.

-Chuck

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Web,

…we’re going on hour three here Webster.

Part of me wants to take pity on your clueless ass but another says it’s better if you figure it out on your own. Babe’s starting to worry about you. You slipped some corny ass poetry under the door about 20 minutes ago and none of us can decide if it’s a plea for help or just more of your melancholic bullshit. Snafu hoarded it and I have no doubt he’s going to quote it at you the minute you open that office door.

-Chuck

[dailydoseofweb]

Dear Web’s Diary,

Babe took pity on you.

I don’t think you’ve realized it yet but the office is unlocked.

There’s a new bet. It’s on how long it’ll take you to figure that out.

Snafu said a day but I’ve got a little more faith in you. I think it’ll take you a few hours. The sad thing is, Lieb agrees with me. Something along the lines of, “I love that man but he’s clueless. He won’t think to try the door again until he runs out of other options.”

-Chuck