I decided to move to Portland today. I heard my workplace will have openings in the two locations in Portland, and by golly, I’m gonna get in there! I think I will move in July. I do not know how I’m gonna afford it, where I will live, or ANYTHING!!! how exciting. But I’m doing it. I have decided to start making decisions.
I am so tired! The two people I work with on Fridays are not very organized or methodical, so I end up doing double the work since I do a lot of their work over to my standards. Being a shift manager SUCKS. In two months, I’ll be back to the bottom, probably working graveyard. whatever. can you tell how excited I am?
fart bubbles,
yes we are going to beccas wedding together duuuuuh…i dont know what kaleigh was planning on doing…i think she will come but i am not 100 %…in the case she does the bitch is driving.
btw we are getting drunk for it…
i cannot wait to see you, but tell me the exact dates you are coming bc i am planning to go to london in the beginning of june but i will not miss even one minute with you while you are here so i need to know your time frame and your vag frame
i missa missa licka you!
i have to go drop a massive bomb
god bless you and may jesus fill your heart with peace and joy
HE’S THE GREATEST
contemplating going to the store to get wine and sweets, and then tearing apart my whole closet to make up spring/summer outfits. DO I HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY? I kind of just feel like going to sleep, but it’s only 9:30.
my favorite outfit right now consists of grey leggings, fuzzy blue socks, black and white striped shirt, blue cardigan and huge sleeve-less fringed tan blanket sweater. meaning I have barely left my house the last three days, because this is lounge wear.
ALSO. while reading Patti Smith’s book, and thinking a lot, I have come to realize something: I will never be a dedicated artist. I surround myself with, fall in love with, and support artists. I like encouraging people and loving their art, but I do not have the enthusiasm or heart for making my own art. This is comforting. I have always internally complained and berated myself for my lack of creativity, but this realization has set me free. Of course, this does not mean I do not dabble in small projects, but I am much more interested in the work of others. I will be the benefactor.
the guy my sister was trying to set me up with looks like the diabetic dwarf I babysat two years ago. SO THAT WON’T WORK. it’s an uncanny resemblance.
I was reading page 20 of Just Kids by Patti Smith, and I absolutely exploded into tears. I didn’t stop crying for 30 minutes. It came in three waves: the first sobs were deep and gratifying and loud. My whole house reverberated, and I could hear the cats shifting, walking about in confusion. The second bout was softer, more painful, unbearable. Not sobs, just keening wails. I have never cried like that before, and it was terrible. I hated it, and wanted to stop but could not control myself for a long time. I shifted all over my bed, writhing in shame and anger. I finally lay quiet for a while, and thought I was done. I tried to get up and looked at myself in the mirror. I was hideous. I curled back up on my bed, but sat up immediately and drooled and snotted and teared all over my legs. I could only moan “no” and “why” and “no” again. I think I have finally grieved. I have halfheartedly lamented my child before this, but today the flood was released, and I feel I will never be able to go back to the numbness and flippancy that have shielded me from emotion.
Patti Smith was talking about the birth of her first child. What got me was this line: “Although my arms would be empty and I wept, my child would live, was healthy, and would be well cared for.” She was 19. I am 23.
Did I make a selfish decision? I didn’t want to deal with a pregnancy, I didn’t want a child, and I didn’t want to live my life knowing there was someone out there who should belong to me. I wanted to fall in love freely. I wanted to go to university freely. I want to live freely. I could be 8 months pregnant. Next month would have brought about the birth of someone made of me. Instead a portion of that thing is buried in the dirt of one of my houseplants. The plant has grown hugely in the past 8 months.
I can’t regret what I did, because regrets are useless. But I feel an insurmountable weight pressing against me because of this.
