December is generally a difficult month.  This December has been no different,  and perhaps more so.  The past couple of weeks have brought much introspection, most of it painful.

I am a woman well used to being alone.  I was alone for many years, through college, and after while traveling with work, helping to open retail stores. Even during my marriage, I was alone, almost from the start.  I used solitude to escape the pain of those years.  In the ensuing years, I have continued with my solitude.  I am not sure if it is self-imposed at this point, or if there is a deficient quality in me, which seems to be the most plausible explanation.  I have flirted with relationships, including my marriage. None has succeeded, including a recent foray that left me so wounded that I do not think I will venture out again.

I will continue with my solitude, striking out with my camera, and immersing myself in art.  I play at being happy, and laugh when I am supposed to.  I believe my heart is turning to ice.


Lorelai ~ Robin Pecknold

So guess I got old
I was like trash on the sidewalk
I guess I knew why
Often it’s hard to just sweet talk

I was old news to you then
Old news, old news to you then

You, you were like glue
Holding each of us together
I slept through July
While you made lines in the heather

I was old news to you then
Old news, old news to you then

Fell for the ruse with you then
Old news, old news to you then

And I still see you when I try to sleep
I see the garden, the tower, the street
Call out to nobody, call out to me
Chip on the shoulder, the dime in the teeth

Now I can see how
We were like dust on the window
Not much, not a lot
Everything’s stolen or borrowed

I was old news to you then
Old news, old news to you then


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