A Reprise

My unicorn and lady cross stitch is epic. It seems like it's my whole life. I began it at my sixteenth birthday. I worked on it when I went to Grandma and Pop pop's house, which is not their home anymore, each summer. I remember sitting on the sofa and doing it. I remember working on it in my room at home in bed. I took it to college and stitched it in Lechner. I took it to my summer jobs each summer and worked on it there. Now I am finishing it. It's very large, and there are so many skipped lines in it as to be ridiculous. It's so large that you can't tell, but it makes it very difficult to stitch, because I have to make my best guess for each row. The chart is tattered and yellow, and the cloth is stained in places, but it's my cross stitch, my work for the last decade. I'm so excited to finish it. There was something magical about working on it last night. That same maidenly content fell over me. I did my work, then I slept soundly and woke refreshed. I...

"Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work."

The trees, they grow so high Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde .

The glass player Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde .

" The Ash Grove ," played on the glass harmonica at Scarborough Faire.

I remember walking between classes, to and from my dorm, and with grass and trees all around me it was so easy to imagine Victoria running across the lawn and crying "Faustyna! Faustyna!" That was the name of the young noblewoman Victoria so adored. Then I would go back to my room and write it all down. I am not bitter! I'm grateful to have this. I would never have guessed that one day I could do all this on my phone. We are so blessed, and there are so many wonderful things in my life. When I look back on the past, the places I remember most vividly are the ones where I wrote. I captured a part of them forever in my stories. I will always have those places, just as now I capture places in my stories. Amusingly, they consist of two Starbucks and River Legacy Park. I am listening to traditional Chinese music at Summer Party but, thank goodness, no erhu. I can't listen right now and not think of how poor my skills are yet. Of course I have to give it time and attention,...

The tank Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . The tank has been dammed and isn't as swamp-like as it used to be. There used to be a moldering paddle boat out there, too. I have much better ones on the big camera. New Hope, Texas.

Blue elephant Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . There was graffiti on the wall outside the rehearsal studio.

Abandoned warehouse outside the rehearsal studio Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . There is always something to do when you're in an empty parking lot waiting for someone, especially if there's an abandoned building next door.

Nathan after the concert Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . Nathan performed his first gig with Mahteo, his band, at the Latino Cultural Center in Dallas.

Have I changed? Or am I merely playacting at this every day, ever pretending and fooling some people into thinking I am mature. Sometimes I wonder who I would be if my life had gone on unperturbed by the afflictions in college that swept away the last of childhood security. I wish I could say I have stopped thinking of that place but it is more with me than ever. Two nights ago I remembered in detail the contents of my closet. It disquieted me to remember things that have lain undisturbed in my head, really stupid things better forgotten. On the second shelf was Jonah's bird food, my extra pillows and stuffed animals, which I kept out of sight during the day for neatness. I have not been on the Internet for almost a week now, except this morning when I briefly checked email. I appreciate my reader's comments and will certainly read his journal when I have time for the computer again. I post from phone normally, and go for days at a time without the computer.

My spirits come back. I don't know why, nor know any longer what it is like to be dispirited. I have discovered classical radio, which played Chopin this morning, and it took me far away from here, to SHSU campus and my piano recitals. I felt like I was twelve again, listening for the first time. Practicing with Mrs. Marks. I never knew in my childhood that I would feel cold chills to remember those little discoveries from which I am now so far removed. What might I have done to keep it all close? I wasn't sure if I should bring my laptop for writing today, but I am so glad I did. Now more than ever I want to go to my stories.

Daisies in my hair at the Lacuna Coil concert: Lacuna was awesome.

June 20, Rasputina, again. Was I unhappy a minute ago? I can't remember.

I did not expect to bond with my instrument so quickly, but I already miss it and want to come home to it.

I decided to leave the group. I spend this time updating the web site, I can't keep up with the demand, and I get nothing from the group. I feel stressed about it: I really hate quitting like this, but groups never work out for me anyway. They are like businesses. They become weighted down with protocol and waste time. Another thing bothering me is another negative fiction review. I don't understand. Were they gay? How could he be gay and feel desire for Jenny? I wonder if there are people that truly have never heard of bisexuality. They don't like my story once they reach the last chapter. It makes me so angry. It makes me feel really passionate about my story. On the way to work, I thought of writing my story all over again with a much greater emphasis on Charles, whom I truly love. I want readers to see what I see, because I think if they do, they will feel what I feel. Isn't that what we as writers ultimately want? For other people to feel what we feel, if only fo...

One thing I really like about reading obscure authors on Gutenberg is that I can form an opinion unbiased without any previous knowledge. The Victorian authors I read in particular: I know gender and sometimes age, but I base the work on its own merit and form ideas about its ideologies. I also declare to myself that it is a forgotten work of art, perhaps never truly discovered. I end up loving every Victorian novel I read, of course. I am wearing the most wonderful skirt today. It is really perfect, and I wish everyone could have a skirt as lovely as this one. It is made of the finest black knit, fits my waist perfectly and flares gracefully as I walk. I am trying to lose weight right now. This weekend I realized that I was steadily gaining, and immediately I began to cut back. It is very unpleasant emotionally, but I am not that bad physically, and I am losing about half a pound a day. For the first time in twenty-four hours I actually ate my food for lunch, instead of drinking it, a...

If I say it three times, it will be so. I will not lose my essential self. I will not lose my essential self. I will not lose my essential self. And another one. These loins will bear no brats. These loins will bear no brats. These loins will bear no brats.

Good morning, Houston Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde .

The woods in spring Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde .