on faith

It feels as though I were losing my faith

scary

I wouldn’t go for another existential crisis if I could help it

around February the question was

“what have we to do with each other,

You and me?”

back then I knew we had something

 while now it is more

“do we have anything to do with each other,

You and me...?”

I should think more about these but 

not while trying to type on the phone

on numbness setting in

A strange phenomenon:

I came home from work more or less o.k.

made bacon and eggs

then sat down with the laptop

and just felt laziness or even apathy descending over me

that familiar feeling of why bother

Other than this, S. K. called today

I was waiting for it for some time

told her about the latest relapse

she had some ideas on making bedtime more attractive

as well as using meditation or relaxation practices

and we agreed to increase med #3

The psychologist guy from the group 

replied to my last email, too

today, about when I lost hope in anyone being interested in me

(I’ve sent it Monday night, I think)

he was kind

on small victories

I was able to fasten the blackout shade

though not perfectly horizontally

but it works like magic

I’ll have to buy another one for the other room, too

(with uncharacteristic caution, I only purchased one piece today)

I also had a lovely bath

and watched half of The Grand Budapest Hotel

dramedy might just be my genre these days

and read aloud the next chapter from Berzsián és Dideki 

to B.

on silence and on home improvement

How long can one live without silence
I wonder
it seems that I can survive about two minutes of silence
before it all comes rushing back to me
rejection
shame
guilt
sadness
hopelessness

and so I rather keep listening to stuff
endlessly
as if my life depends on it
(and sometimes it does seem like it does)

B. tinkered with the balcony table yesterday evening
had a brilliant idea on how to make it stand lower
in the end, however, he didn’t manage to make it work either

Today I bought a blackout shade (blind? the rolling type thingy)
for (the glass pane on) my door
I wonder if I’ll be able to set it up

on a slightly more productive day

Today I didn’t leave the flat

(apart from lying a good deal in the hammock)

but

I did some proof-reading for H.

washed my hair

scrubbed the kitchen sink

washed a load

and cooked a <rakott krumpli>

Meanwhile, 

I played hours of Plants Vs Zombies

and listened to some truly stunning BBC radio dramas

like this and this

on flying in spin

(and not "in corkscrew motion" as I’d have written without Google :-))

Anyway, things are going from bad to worse, it seems

I went to visit my brother’s people today

and that was great

the kids taking turns to sit on my lap

then we went to OBI

I bought the balcony table I’d been toying around with in my head

for the last three years or so

(the final impetus being Mum’s message for my name-day

telling me to buy something for myself

"that's useful or that you desire but is a luxury")

then at home I found that two holes are drilled in the wrong place

making it impossible to set the table up

ten minutes later I gave it another go

and managed

already quite frustrated but still

then I tried to fasten it on the rail and it took a long time

and some more frustration

upon noticing that it's way higher than should be

I started over

then rain came and I abandoned the whole thing

then I went to adoration at the Jesuit church

(I decided to immerse myself in prayer (opportunities)

and volunteered for an hour each day from next Tuesday till Saturday

plus half an hour today)

I said the vesper

and cried over my shame and feeling of rejection

it was a nice pity-party

quite desperate

I wonder how I'll hold on for an hour...

Meanwhile, the therapy group’s first post-war meeting

is proposed to take place on 7th June

which seems an awful long way off

and I have my doubts as to it happening even then

And still no shower, or changing the bedlinen

though I did water the cacti at the staircase

thinking that they really don’t deserve to die

from me feeling crap

on bitchiness & second chances

I am becoming increasingly bitchy

still not doing anything I am not immediately accountable for

(having a shower, changing the bed, writing the e-mails)

and feeling miserable

even while enjoying myself immensely by any normal standard

I also realised today (not sure if for the first time)

that while I would be happy to offer 

a second chance to 

any remorseful serial killer

(a totally theoretical supposition, of course, and may it stay so)

somewhere deep I am fully convinced

that my only chance for a reasonably happy life

was my marriage

on powerlessness

Why is everything

or pretty much everything

that’s not been forced on me from the outside

so damn difficult to do?

Washing my hair,

tidying up the room,

even putting on clothes instead of my pyjamas

all seem almost impossible

and a pointless struggle, anyway

Sooo tiresome

on this and that

Last night we had a bit of an emergency conference call

C. really is fed up with her good-for-nothing husband this time

but she’s dead scared for their little son

and I have no idea how to help them

Today was work 

with this and this great BBC podcast series;

then grocery shopping and cooking adventurously

after a look into the fridge, I typed "brown rice and goat cheese" into Google

thinking of some salad

but ended up with this instead

of course I payed no attention to the amounts

and didn’t want to fuss with the food processor

so it turned out rather crumbly

but still pretty nice, especially after cooling down

At night I watched a romcom named Book Club

and now I really should be sleeping

on creativity

(I am very nearly asleep but still don’t dare try it... bad, really)

Today I found myself wondering about what to cook

while the fridge is full of cooked meals and 

I have a lunch engagement for Thursday with J.

somehow it almost felt sad to realise that I should not cook just now

(I guess there is a part of procrastination in it, too)

then I read Paul Auster’s musings on 

how literary characters tend to start their own lives and adventures 

quite apart from their author

I’ve read about this from other writers, too

anyway, tonight I thought that must feel awesome 

and how I wish I could make up stories

(but I can’t)

Then I thought I really needed some creative outlet

I see the concept again and again

yet can’t seem to have a clue on what to do

Could cooking really be my thing for now?

on another pub night

It was B.'s birthday yesterday

the six of us (kidless, living in a ten minute radius area) went to Jazz

there were lovely colourful light strings hung up in the garden

also quite a few people enjoying themselves

we had the crockpot apple pie (slightly raw but nice anyway), and some nice, garlicky-nutty thingy by N.

drank quite a bit

played Piszkos Fred

thankfully my present arrived a few days before, too

it was a pleasant evening for sure

Meanwhile, Cs. wrote to tell that she has chest pains and is heading to the <ügyelet>

Later she wrote that blood pressure and EKG were all right, she's walking home

Then at home I found her yelling into her phone

later she came out to apologize

I said it's o.k. 

which sure is true from my side

though I couldn't vouch safe [?] for the neighbour lady

on meeting at the pub

The war is over, it seems

and like Švejk, we met at the pub

(outside, naturally)

and I totally wasn’t up to the task 

of appearing as part of a couple

esp. in front of the still unsuspecting Zs.

which was disconcerting

as well as unfair towards B.

and I was rude to F.

earlier I left church at the end of communion

and the Rajma turned out horribly acidy

I ate lots of carbs and played for hours

and I haven’t even done half of what I wanted today

restless the whole day long

BUT, in all fairness

some nice stuff didn’t find its way here yet

ceremonious tea drinking

and some deep conversation yesterday

an amazing pink-blue sunset today

my first crockpot apple cake

(that will or will not leave the pot in one piece

but smells delicious nevertheless)

and N. advised to use baking soda on the rajma

on the amazingness of plants

These are cuttings (previously made to grow roots) of my photos plant

that I mailed to L. (in B.) on 18 March

(after he wrote to me telling that unfortunately he hadn’t bought houseplants 

as long as he could have

and then the country shut down from one day to another)

The post office lady looked very suspiciously at the envelope

(I actually blew air into the bag to prevent the cuttings from crushing

an idea I am quite proud of)

asked what’s inside 

I only admitted “plant seeds”

(there was a bag of balcony tomato seeds in it, too

so it really was part-true)

than told me “I’ll take it in but whether or not it will arrive...”

(to which I thought cca. 1500 Ft seems rather a lot to risk)

A week or so later I learned that L. moved back to A.

and with that, I pretty much let go of the plan(ts)

That is, until today I’ve got the above picture and these:

:-)

on falling apart

I still couldn’t make up my mind entirely

or I could but wasn’t determined enough to act on it

breaking up via messaging suddenly feels
“jerkiness understandable”

my room is like a post-apocalyptic landscape

(maybe a bit dustier—

depends on the type of the apocalypse

I guess)

I can’t find connection with God

I keep procrastinating

- work (translation)

- writing some long, important and difficult emails

- reading (!) for the children’s book award

- tidying and cleaning, and pretty much 

- all else, too

starting with getting up in the morning

And I keep having flashbacks

from bad memories throughout my marriage

mistakes I made

stabs I received

on being miserable, again

Today I very nearly broke up with B.
in the end we left it open for the time being
but this happened to be the night on which
he went to a pub with Zs. and F.
and told them about the whole thing
and they were positively happy and excited
(Zs. especially)
which would have been a really nice feeling
should I be any more confident
(it sure was with N.'s enthusiasm somewhere right around the beginning)
but now that I am not
it just makes me feel a bit like a jerk
for maybe wishing to end something quite this beautiful

on a strange dream

I started dreaming more vividly recently again
last night I flew to Switzerland
somehow figured out how to get on the plane without a ticket
and managed it both ways though others have been caught
I was quite proud, actually

the strange thing was that I turned back after just an hour or so
only saw the main square of Zürich (?)
which was quite nice, nevertheless
I ran into Sz., and we came home together

the airports (there and here, too) were very close to the city
and maybe the airplane itself was different, too
like one row of seats (five, six or even more)
and corridor only on one side
I remember talking to the crew
on the point of confessing
only to realise it's not me who's been accused of being a stowaway

---
I also realised recently that Viktor Krum (from Harry Potter)
took the shape of S. in my mind :-)

on recent days

I’ve been out "electroding" four days this week
the cycling part is pretty hard, to my shame
(and to that of those unable to make a proper bike way all way long)
I am tired despite two nights of normal sleep

Harry Potter was keeping me company
and a real good company, too

Meanwhile, things with B. are going pretty good
[I just learned it's supposed to be "good" and not "well"
if I remember well
or is it if I remember good?!]

We’ve had CLC on Zoom tonight
and there’s another chat going on right now
but I’ll set off for a short walk instead
and call back P.

(...)

P. recommended The Choice to me
and asked about my nowhere-going translation project
to which I should really make time next week

And then later, out of nowhere
it just occured to me once again
that no matter how much good happened to me throughout the last year
if I think that I could be living reasonably happy with Á. and a now three years old boy
it just can’t compare
and quite possibly never will

Mother Nature must have had her reasons
not to make a mother of me
but I still find it difficult to forgive her