I have like 7 drafts, half-written, hidden inside here I have typed over the past few weeks. But I have also been busy, as I tend to spend my time a lot better than I did previous to this job switch. I think that as a person I became a little too accustomed to being…
holy crap. I have realized my patience with the world is slipping almost daily it seems sometimes, but I think a lot of that is this hostility I seem to harbor while driving, and I am really trying to work that out.Another group I have kind of concentrated a little of my scorn for are…
Progress regress movement all the time. That’s kind of what you hope for a life, but the past few years things have been a little stagnant in the fort complex apartment community I have lived in and I am just done. The whole almost dying again thing kind of made that a little more urgent–and…
I have been realizing some comforts I have been able to take in getting older and realizing I am closer now to an end after all this time. I have finally decided I am comfortable in my own skin. A lot of this has been helped along by Don’s acceptance of me and everything that…
I have started writing every single day this week but inevitably I get distracted or too tired to finish out the day right. I start these thoughts and file them away into the until next time and sometimes next next time them until later and sometimes revisit or completely abandon them. You’d wonder how all…
It really is becoming a problem, finding hope in this world we live in right now. Not sure if I have mentioned this, but I keep my news reading pretty varied so I can see the spin on stories or lack of reporting, that is, depending on readership. I have no idea why more people…
That isn’t something you will ever see me comment on–not big into praying as you all know that’s like a wish in my head and that’s not something real people did in my world. It doesn’t mean I didn’t secretly mutter or freak out enough to tilt the universe a bit more in my direction–but…
Oh my god. Sometimes I am mildly pathetic in my weepings. It’s not that I am not grateful to those of you wandering around in my past, nope, it’s just that sometimes I make myself sick with the comparisons. I sat down last night and tried to write the poetry I was so fucking prolific…
I had to google that word because it looks weird. Curiouser and curiouser I wind and waiver and change my mind daily. I haven’t tried to do the copywriting seriously enough, yet, but I am at the edge of a pretty brutal time here coming up. The leg isn’t getting better and tends to wake…
Man, I am really fucking hard on myself, I realize and I don’t exactly know why. I didn’t have this like super crazy upbringing which involved any discussions of success at all. It was you work, you make money. Dreams were expensive then to have, and as a result I never let myself have any….
