generaljanuary

Since my holiday to my uncle's cabin, I've taken up playing yo-yo again. I used to, back when I was about 11. It was the fad of the moment. Marbles, pogs and then yo-yo. So yeah, the kids had one constantly laying around so I'd taken up to show them a few yo-yo tricks I remembered. They quickly got bored with it, but I stuck to it. I was in a pretty much constant state of emotional turmoil that week and I found that concentrating on that small simple action made me feel very centred (here I go, sounding all zen again).

So I play with a yo-yo. In my bedroom at night, mostly. But also with my goson. He's in passion with it. I make it spin round and round and he bangs it on walls. We're the lame-o yo-yo duo. (My godson was very cuddly today and he's started to recognise me by name, which warms my heart like no words could ever describe.)

I was toying with it, waiting for the bus and it got caught in the wind and slammed in my face. It almost split my poor abused bottom lip. It was insanely funny. "Attacked by Yo-yo! In broad daylight!" Later I was walking with Seba-kun and I'd lent it to him and -don't ask me how, I wasn't looking- he hit himself in the back of the head with it.

That little red piece of plastic is vicious! I named it Kiki after one of the Wild Boys from the book I am currently reading. He's the cute little thing going "Mas, Mas. Que me haces, Johnny? Mas." I thought it was fitting.

In more consistant news, I've had another minor public breakdown, in a pub. It was all fun and stuff and then Sebastien squeezed a few words out of me and I pretty much lost it. I've been feeling pathetic ever since. Not so much about the public display of shameful weakness (been getting used to that) but more about that stupid, stupid thing I said. I really really didn't want to. There are some things that are just too raw and covered in too much layers of other painful stuff. I really didn't want to tell him about this. I can't even think about it, it make me feel so lame. He was not even trying to be all that pushy, but I saw that it hurt him when I told him that there were some things I would just never feel comfortable talking about. I didn't want him to think I didn't trust him or whatever. I'm just not an advocate of talking about stuff that hurt me se deep (in a public place, no less) , with someone who can't offer any comfort or true understanding. Though. as expected, he's been pretty cool about it (meaning he didn't mention it again) and I'm grateful for that.

It's just hard sometimes. Mostly the things that bother me a very common, but thy're just buried so deep and so close to my core. They just hurt so bad.

I just gotta stop thinking about it now. Okay.
Good night.