a hundred is a lot

so here I sit. again. for what feels like the hundredth hour in a row. as a flaming red piece of hair falls across my eye and I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. seriously. an outsider may observe that I have A Lot Going On.

cue mazzy star / fade into you on KEXP, like I planned it or something.

dad's gone, mom's sick, job's unfulfilling, divorce is pending. empty bank account and fingertips stained pink. unrequited love in all the wrong places (in too many faces). figuring out the difference between What I Need and What I Want. wishing I didn't know so much -

and thanking the stars that I do.

last night instead of feverishly throwing away a bunch of clothes that were still perfectly fine, I made a piles and designations. the front closet, in my bedroom, holds Things That Fit. the back closet, in the spare room, holds Things I Like That Don't Fit. and the pile that I would have thrown away instead became Things I Don't Think I Like Right Now. therefore moving them out of closet status. we'll see if I miss them anytime soon.

somehow I don't think I will. but I'd rather not regret anything.

so I keep Showing Up For Things. to start, it would probably help to, you know, like, work, or something. since I'm sitting here and all.

but first, a message from our sponsors:

No apologies! We do have to feel things sometimes, she's a wise woman. You're coming down a little from your ecstatic high. That's expected -- if you operated at fever pitch all the time you'd burn yourself out. The glow of your plans have become more real -- details, etc. That's fine. Just let it roll over you. Acknowledge it, write about it, and let it go.

~k

I am, I am, and I'm trying. I love you too.

~angela