It's leap year, 2012. We call it "Leap Year" but really it's just another day. The sun still rises and sets, people still wake up and go to work, or study, or fight, or love. And yet it only happens once every 4 years. It's uniqueness makes it special, it's rarity makes it valuable. It was a double birthday for a beautiful pair of 74 year old ladies who came into my restaurant today and sat down at table number 18.
Table 18 is the one right next to the service station, 5 feet from the bus bins, spitting distance from the computer terminal that all the servers use to print out checks and run credit cards, and 2 yards away from opening that separates the floor of the restaurant from the kitchen. It is, by far, the loudest, most chaotic, obnoxious location in the whole entire restaurant. And yet these lovely ladies had no complaints.
In fact, it was their birthday - February 29th, and they were "both 37," one of them said with a laugh. The one who spoke turned out to be the talkative one. She was clever, and full of such a youthful lightness - it resonated throughout, especially in her eyes. Her eyes laughed when she spoke. They were clear.
They had known each other since they were 9, bonded as leap year babies in elementary school. And here, 65 years later, one was taking the other out for a shared birthday lunch of corn chowder and ciabatta bread.
The extroverted one asked if I had seen the movie "The Artist" and then told me I could have been the leading lady. Another older woman in my section told me she "liked watching me interact with the other tables" and I think I received 2 compliments on my service.
All in all, despite all the positive energy and compliments I got from my tables, and the money I took home in the end, it was a strange day. There was a chaos in the air - I had 4 somewhat large spills in my section - which is unusual. And one troll of a man who shook things up a little in a negative way earlier on. I was able to brush him off eventually, but the sweet ladies on table 18 really made my day, and to them I say thank you. I suppose I should also acknowledge that they give me a 6 dollar tip on $13.
You know, Leap Year only happens once every four years, and Leap Year in the year 2012 only happens ONCE, and for that I am glad.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, November 21, 2011
the human condition
The human condition is an enigma. Being human is certainly strange, but being a woman is surely just as strange. It's weird how female hormones can have such an effect on a woman's emotional state. I say this because I'm saddened, since last night and into the next afternoon (and it hasn't left me yet) and with that sadness comes a sense of feeling sorry for myself. There's a tiny voice that is trying to get through, "get over it" the voice says, "there is other sadness in the world that is far greater than yours." It's true; there's a lot of messed up shit in the world. Wars, uprisings, torture, peaceful protesters getting pepper spray to the face (and as horrendous as it seems, this is mild in comparison). So who am I to feel upset for myself?
Before I started in with my monologue (it's short, don't worry), I just wanted to first try to step outside of my situation and recognize something other than myself. A plea, a gesture, to the rest of the world, to those out there who are saddened by something too. My sadness might be small in the grand scale of sadness, and fleeting too, but it is just as valid. These things happening around the world, happening to people both similar and dissimilar to me, should be acknowledged first.
But now it's my turn. Call it crazy, and believe me I realize it pretty much is, I am sad for a future that hasn't been invented yet. I am sad for the possibility that my life will flash by in a blink of an eye and that I will look back with a furrowed brow and a clouded gaze. With regret over making the wrong choices -- choices that really matter, like choosing a partner or choosing the wrong one, like having (or not having) children. Will I choose to be brave? In the end will I be proud? I realize the only way to know is to stay in the game long enough to find out. Preferably with the minimal amount of sadness possible.
Before I started in with my monologue (it's short, don't worry), I just wanted to first try to step outside of my situation and recognize something other than myself. A plea, a gesture, to the rest of the world, to those out there who are saddened by something too. My sadness might be small in the grand scale of sadness, and fleeting too, but it is just as valid. These things happening around the world, happening to people both similar and dissimilar to me, should be acknowledged first.
But now it's my turn. Call it crazy, and believe me I realize it pretty much is, I am sad for a future that hasn't been invented yet. I am sad for the possibility that my life will flash by in a blink of an eye and that I will look back with a furrowed brow and a clouded gaze. With regret over making the wrong choices -- choices that really matter, like choosing a partner or choosing the wrong one, like having (or not having) children. Will I choose to be brave? In the end will I be proud? I realize the only way to know is to stay in the game long enough to find out. Preferably with the minimal amount of sadness possible.
Friday, July 01, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuesday June 28th
It's June 28th and it's a tuesday. It's 3:04 pm in the afternoon and this is the way I will start my post, for lack of anything better to say. Not in a negative way. In a clear way. Like, a clear-minded, clear-headed, no crap to get in the way of really feeling something kind of way. I feel fresh and uncluttered. Unlike the sky.
In my kitchen the windows are wide open and outside there is a blanket of clouds draped over the sky; they are gray, and bright. The clouds are leaking copious amounts of water as I write, and every so often they open up with a streak of light stabbing through and then a booming roar. The sky is angry today. And sad.
But I have a smile on my face, a happy purple orchid to my left, low-fi minimal electro-ish stuff on the stereo, and a bowl of delicious strawberries my mother gave me in a bowl on the table.
This is my practice writing session. This is to force myself to write, write about nothing, write about a tiny block of time in my day where I'm all alone and it feels like freedom. This is when I know I should just write something, anything, for the sake of doing it. The day and the rain feel like magic. I smell verbena. The smile stays.
I love these huge old trees outside my window. This must be the best kitchen at town right now.
It's 3:12 and I work at six. It took me eight minutes to get here from when I started and I have almost three hours until I work. That's enough time to get into some trouble. Or take a nap. Options are a beautiful thing, aren't they?
In my kitchen the windows are wide open and outside there is a blanket of clouds draped over the sky; they are gray, and bright. The clouds are leaking copious amounts of water as I write, and every so often they open up with a streak of light stabbing through and then a booming roar. The sky is angry today. And sad.
But I have a smile on my face, a happy purple orchid to my left, low-fi minimal electro-ish stuff on the stereo, and a bowl of delicious strawberries my mother gave me in a bowl on the table.
This is my practice writing session. This is to force myself to write, write about nothing, write about a tiny block of time in my day where I'm all alone and it feels like freedom. This is when I know I should just write something, anything, for the sake of doing it. The day and the rain feel like magic. I smell verbena. The smile stays.
I love these huge old trees outside my window. This must be the best kitchen at town right now.
It's 3:12 and I work at six. It took me eight minutes to get here from when I started and I have almost three hours until I work. That's enough time to get into some trouble. Or take a nap. Options are a beautiful thing, aren't they?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Cover letter for Editor Position at Living Social
Remember when I said I wanted to write again? Well I think it's starting to happen. I don't want to say it's pouring out of me... but there's a leak. There's definitely a leak. And it's getting bigger.
I wrote a cover letter today for a position in San Francisco with the Website Living Social. It's basically a website that offers a bunch of awesome deals on a bunch of awesome things, and I want to write for them. Over the next couple of days I plan on applying; you need a cover letter, a resume, and a couple writing "tests." Here is my cover letter, tell me what you think:
Dear folks at Living Social,
Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!
Whoa, sorry about that! There’s that darn enthusiasm again; it gets the best of me, every time. In all actuality, and to the surprise of those around me, I often have trouble containing it. I bet you might have had a similar thought. In fact, I bet you’re asking yourself right now, “was that really her lead sentence?? Did those words actually just tumble out of her head, bounce off of her keyboard and hop into this document? Is this cover letter for real???" It's for real, alright, you better believe it. And if you don’t mind, I think I’ll back up a second, take a deep breath, and start over.
Ahem.
To whom it may concern,
While perusing the Living Social website for daily deals on some delicious grub, bitchin’ summer swag and affordable salon services (my psuedo 80’s asymmetrical Flock of Seagulls haircut is quickly growing into an unsightly mess and desperately needs a mow), I noticed that there is currently an opening for an Assistant Editor in the San Francisco branch. Please don’t think of it as an overdramatic understatement when I whisper in your ear how much I want this opportunity to write for your website.
Much like a goldfish stuck in a tiny bowl, I can assure you that I have grown beyond the confines of this quaint little city I lovingly like to refer to as the ‘mento. I’m ready to break out and explore bigger ponds, swim with the big guys. I want to live in San Francisco and write for an awesome website that is chock full of amazing deals. Bargain hunting runs in my marrow; whether it’s sifting through old LPs in the Mission’s Thrift Town, scouring the Berkeley flea market for vintage Laurel Burch earrings for my mother, or rummaging through the dumpsters behind Sacramento’s Wonder Bread factory, I am a scavenger. Much like Living Social, I am always looking for the next deal, and much like Living Social, I am always telling all my friends about it.
I would be honored to be like you, living and loving and bargain hunting (and bargain catching) and writing about such sweet deals in San Francisco. I want to learn how to master the art of driving a stick shift on a 70 degree incline. I want to wear big baggy woolen sweaters all year long, have a picnic in Golden Gate park, watch the sun drop into the western sky, just below the golden gate bridge at China Beach. I want it all and I am ready.
I hope you are ready for me as well.
Thank you for humoring me and especially for your time.
Sincerely,
Jessica xxxxxx
Writer at heart, waitress by night, nomad by choice, human above everything else.
I wrote a cover letter today for a position in San Francisco with the Website Living Social. It's basically a website that offers a bunch of awesome deals on a bunch of awesome things, and I want to write for them. Over the next couple of days I plan on applying; you need a cover letter, a resume, and a couple writing "tests." Here is my cover letter, tell me what you think:
Dear folks at Living Social,
Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!
Whoa, sorry about that! There’s that darn enthusiasm again; it gets the best of me, every time. In all actuality, and to the surprise of those around me, I often have trouble containing it. I bet you might have had a similar thought. In fact, I bet you’re asking yourself right now, “was that really her lead sentence?? Did those words actually just tumble out of her head, bounce off of her keyboard and hop into this document? Is this cover letter for real???" It's for real, alright, you better believe it. And if you don’t mind, I think I’ll back up a second, take a deep breath, and start over.
Ahem.
To whom it may concern,
While perusing the Living Social website for daily deals on some delicious grub, bitchin’ summer swag and affordable salon services (my psuedo 80’s asymmetrical Flock of Seagulls haircut is quickly growing into an unsightly mess and desperately needs a mow), I noticed that there is currently an opening for an Assistant Editor in the San Francisco branch. Please don’t think of it as an overdramatic understatement when I whisper in your ear how much I want this opportunity to write for your website.
Much like a goldfish stuck in a tiny bowl, I can assure you that I have grown beyond the confines of this quaint little city I lovingly like to refer to as the ‘mento. I’m ready to break out and explore bigger ponds, swim with the big guys. I want to live in San Francisco and write for an awesome website that is chock full of amazing deals. Bargain hunting runs in my marrow; whether it’s sifting through old LPs in the Mission’s Thrift Town, scouring the Berkeley flea market for vintage Laurel Burch earrings for my mother, or rummaging through the dumpsters behind Sacramento’s Wonder Bread factory, I am a scavenger. Much like Living Social, I am always looking for the next deal, and much like Living Social, I am always telling all my friends about it.
I would be honored to be like you, living and loving and bargain hunting (and bargain catching) and writing about such sweet deals in San Francisco. I want to learn how to master the art of driving a stick shift on a 70 degree incline. I want to wear big baggy woolen sweaters all year long, have a picnic in Golden Gate park, watch the sun drop into the western sky, just below the golden gate bridge at China Beach. I want it all and I am ready.
I hope you are ready for me as well.
Thank you for humoring me and especially for your time.
Sincerely,
Jessica xxxxxx
Writer at heart, waitress by night, nomad by choice, human above everything else.
hit me and i'll hit you back
"The thing that gets me about relationships is how far down they can go and with such a quickness."
Is what I just wrote for my Facebook status. Should I have gone there? Well, I did. I went there anyway.
I'm going to go outside and ride my bike now.
And I'll probably continue to listen yet another amazing album by Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest. My friend Trevor Caldwell from New York sorta knows some of these guys. Here's a little snippet for you (and it's not even the best track on there):
Is what I just wrote for my Facebook status. Should I have gone there? Well, I did. I went there anyway.
I'm going to go outside and ride my bike now.
And I'll probably continue to listen yet another amazing album by Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest. My friend Trevor Caldwell from New York sorta knows some of these guys. Here's a little snippet for you (and it's not even the best track on there):
life plans
Do you know what a cupie doll is? It's a tiny little plastic cherub doll with a little curly cue strand of hair plopped on the top of it's head; arms stretched out from it's sides as if it's about to give you a tiny plastic hug, fingers fanned, spine long and straight, eyes facing forward, placid.
My ex and I used to hide one, for the other to find, as a game. We would put it in strange places; the fridge, the microwave, on top of the shower doors, nestled amongst the green fronds of a fern. Today I walked outside and saw it on my porch.
I don't know how long it's been since I got of this relationship but I know it hasn't been too long.I know it hasn't been too long but I know it's been long enough to start taking steps forward. Hell, I'm running. I also know that this time I'm not going back. It's like a sad, bad 80s song - one that starts slowing down and getting quieter toward the end, but that ends up turning around when it's almost at a dead stop and bolting. I am looking forward, not looking back, scared to death of what might happen if I stop to turn around. Just imagine it like that nasty clown from Stephen King's It is back there and means business.
We were together in total almost 2 years. 2 more years, gone. That's the reality of the situation, isn't it? I won't say that I didn't learn anything from that time, of course I won't say that. If you were to ask me right now, what did you learn, what would I say? That's important to know. Let's see... I learned that love is not enough, and I learned the sadness of having to give up something you do love because it's failed. We tried really hard, both of us, but there were bigger issues that first needed to be dealt with. I'm ok with that. I just had to draw the line somewhere.
I'm trying to hold my head up high, as I write this. 2 years is a nice big chunk of time. I'm 31. It would be a lie if I said that I'm beginning to wonder, so I'll say I'll continue to wonder, because I have been, wondering, that is. What am I doing with my life?
I know I need to move into a direction, but which one? So, yes, of course I've traveled, I've even lived abroad for a year, ya know? I currently live in the same city I grew up in, albeit, I grew up in a 'burb and I'm now in the heart of midtown. I've lived down here for just about 2 years. I'm afraid the fun is starting to wear out. I work at a restaurant yet I have a Bachelor's Degree. I can tell myself that it doesn't matter what you do as long as you're happy until I'm blue in the face (and don't get me wrong, I still mean it) but maybe I'd be happier, feel more fulfilled, if I was somewhere else, doing something else. Luckily, I have some thoughts on the matter. My two ideas are this (I'm sorry Ines):
1. Teach English in Taiwan or
2. Get an interesting writing job in San Francisco.
Notice how Berlin didn't make the cut? I think I might like to check somewhere else out.
I saw that a website called Living Social is hiring writer's in the San Francisco area. Do you think I could use my blog to show off my writing skills? (cough! cough! hack!) Or maybe I should just get out that old portfolio of those clips and blow off the dust. Either rate, I'm practicing, and it feels good.
My ex and I used to hide one, for the other to find, as a game. We would put it in strange places; the fridge, the microwave, on top of the shower doors, nestled amongst the green fronds of a fern. Today I walked outside and saw it on my porch.
I don't know how long it's been since I got of this relationship but I know it hasn't been too long.I know it hasn't been too long but I know it's been long enough to start taking steps forward. Hell, I'm running. I also know that this time I'm not going back. It's like a sad, bad 80s song - one that starts slowing down and getting quieter toward the end, but that ends up turning around when it's almost at a dead stop and bolting. I am looking forward, not looking back, scared to death of what might happen if I stop to turn around. Just imagine it like that nasty clown from Stephen King's It is back there and means business.
We were together in total almost 2 years. 2 more years, gone. That's the reality of the situation, isn't it? I won't say that I didn't learn anything from that time, of course I won't say that. If you were to ask me right now, what did you learn, what would I say? That's important to know. Let's see... I learned that love is not enough, and I learned the sadness of having to give up something you do love because it's failed. We tried really hard, both of us, but there were bigger issues that first needed to be dealt with. I'm ok with that. I just had to draw the line somewhere.
I'm trying to hold my head up high, as I write this. 2 years is a nice big chunk of time. I'm 31. It would be a lie if I said that I'm beginning to wonder, so I'll say I'll continue to wonder, because I have been, wondering, that is. What am I doing with my life?
I know I need to move into a direction, but which one? So, yes, of course I've traveled, I've even lived abroad for a year, ya know? I currently live in the same city I grew up in, albeit, I grew up in a 'burb and I'm now in the heart of midtown. I've lived down here for just about 2 years. I'm afraid the fun is starting to wear out. I work at a restaurant yet I have a Bachelor's Degree. I can tell myself that it doesn't matter what you do as long as you're happy until I'm blue in the face (and don't get me wrong, I still mean it) but maybe I'd be happier, feel more fulfilled, if I was somewhere else, doing something else. Luckily, I have some thoughts on the matter. My two ideas are this (I'm sorry Ines):
1. Teach English in Taiwan or
2. Get an interesting writing job in San Francisco.
Notice how Berlin didn't make the cut? I think I might like to check somewhere else out.
I saw that a website called Living Social is hiring writer's in the San Francisco area. Do you think I could use my blog to show off my writing skills? (cough! cough! hack!) Or maybe I should just get out that old portfolio of those clips and blow off the dust. Either rate, I'm practicing, and it feels good.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
I want to write again so I'm going to sit down and force myself to do it. I want to write again because I know how cathartic it can be for a person, for me. I want to write again because I get sick of the stagnance that has overtaken my life lately. I want to write again because I miss the feeling of a keyboard under my fingers and the solitude that is my quiet self-made sanctuary. I want to write again because I can feel the desperation swelling and building inside of me as my chest rises and falls and my breaths become deeper and panicked and I want to try and avoid this. I'll write about all the reasons why I want to write but I won't actually do it. Screw it, I suppose this is a start.
It's been a year. It's been over a year. It's been at least a good half a year that I even typed my blog address into the browser. It's been one year two months and 27 days since I last wrote something. Ok, so I wrote shopping lists and short emails and facebook status updates but it's been one year two months and 27 days since I last wrote something. How amazing is that? What the hell happened to me?
I'm warming up a little now. I'm talking now about my non-writing phase - shall we call it a dry spell? It was in ways; it was a creativity dry spell. I'm certain of it. I got good at ignoring the blog. Hell I even got good at blocking it out entirely. I was dealing with other stuff. Relationship stuff, if you must know. Relationship stuff that was assumedly blocking my creative juices. This is really the only conclusion that I can come to. The relationship was like fat and chemical residue buildup crap (or whatever the hell gets stuck in those little tubes) clogging your coronary artery. Pretty soon I needed a bypass. (and stop. pause for 6 minutes).
6 minutes later...
Too much personal stuff grinds my fingers to a halt. Maybe it makes me think too hard, so I sit here and stare at the screen and read and re-read the words and just stop. I just stop and sit here and I'm almost certain it's over. The juices are dry. The motor has stopped. It was very hard to restart. I was very close to saving the entry and turning off the laptop and resuming the movie that I had just started before I switched gears and turned on the computer. But then I think, "I am going to make myself write." And I remind myself that it doesn't have to be about personal stuff, it doesn't have to be about anything, it just needs to be. So I will steer this in a different direction for now and finally relay the thought that kick started this whole entry.
I saw today on Facebook that a friend of mine from high school is going to Seoul, Korea, to teach English. She leaves Sunday. There must come a point in my life where I do this. Not necessarily teach English in Seoul, South Korea, but teach English overseas somewhere. It's been something I've been wanting to do for quite a long time, and I'm sure I've mentioned it here a few times. I first started thinking seriously about going to Korea (that was with an ex), then it was Taiwan (that was with another ex), but the truth is, I don't really care where I go, I just want to go. And I want to go alone. I know I will dig it.
I better get on that though, I'm 31! Where does the time go?
Is there anything that you know you have to do in your life? You're just so certain that you must do it, and you're so sure that if you don't, you will regret it for the rest of your life? Maybe this sounds silly, but where some might say having children or getting married, I say teach English abroad. I think it's that thing that I have to do. Does that sound weird to you? I guess in all actuality, it doesn't really even matter how it sounds to you, does it? Nike was right. Just do it.
It's been a year. It's been over a year. It's been at least a good half a year that I even typed my blog address into the browser. It's been one year two months and 27 days since I last wrote something. Ok, so I wrote shopping lists and short emails and facebook status updates but it's been one year two months and 27 days since I last wrote something. How amazing is that? What the hell happened to me?
I'm warming up a little now. I'm talking now about my non-writing phase - shall we call it a dry spell? It was in ways; it was a creativity dry spell. I'm certain of it. I got good at ignoring the blog. Hell I even got good at blocking it out entirely. I was dealing with other stuff. Relationship stuff, if you must know. Relationship stuff that was assumedly blocking my creative juices. This is really the only conclusion that I can come to. The relationship was like fat and chemical residue buildup crap (or whatever the hell gets stuck in those little tubes) clogging your coronary artery. Pretty soon I needed a bypass. (and stop. pause for 6 minutes).
6 minutes later...
Too much personal stuff grinds my fingers to a halt. Maybe it makes me think too hard, so I sit here and stare at the screen and read and re-read the words and just stop. I just stop and sit here and I'm almost certain it's over. The juices are dry. The motor has stopped. It was very hard to restart. I was very close to saving the entry and turning off the laptop and resuming the movie that I had just started before I switched gears and turned on the computer. But then I think, "I am going to make myself write." And I remind myself that it doesn't have to be about personal stuff, it doesn't have to be about anything, it just needs to be. So I will steer this in a different direction for now and finally relay the thought that kick started this whole entry.
I saw today on Facebook that a friend of mine from high school is going to Seoul, Korea, to teach English. She leaves Sunday. There must come a point in my life where I do this. Not necessarily teach English in Seoul, South Korea, but teach English overseas somewhere. It's been something I've been wanting to do for quite a long time, and I'm sure I've mentioned it here a few times. I first started thinking seriously about going to Korea (that was with an ex), then it was Taiwan (that was with another ex), but the truth is, I don't really care where I go, I just want to go. And I want to go alone. I know I will dig it.
I better get on that though, I'm 31! Where does the time go?
Is there anything that you know you have to do in your life? You're just so certain that you must do it, and you're so sure that if you don't, you will regret it for the rest of your life? Maybe this sounds silly, but where some might say having children or getting married, I say teach English abroad. I think it's that thing that I have to do. Does that sound weird to you? I guess in all actuality, it doesn't really even matter how it sounds to you, does it? Nike was right. Just do it.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Sometimes when I'm bored...
I visit my blog and read about the things I was thinking about in days past. Sometimes I hit the "next blog" button at the top of the screen; I usually don't find anything worth reading. Today, though, as I was revisiting my (admittedly neglected) blog, I hit that button and found this: http://pillowtalkisextra.blogspot.com/
It's pretty cool, written by a young 20-something gal in New York City. Hers is a much more personal blog, and many entries deal with men and the problems that come with them, but I like her writing. It's snappy. Kinda like how I think about my own. There's no photo associated with the blog, but given the subject matter, I can understand why she would value her anonymity.
So I read other people's blogs, but I don't keep up with my own. In past entries, I spoke so much of projects, this website that I was going to build, the idea that I could create an awesome space for people to communicate about conscious travel. Sadly, It's still not formed into anything. It makes me feel like I've failed myself. It reminds me of what I need to be doing right now, what I should have been doing for a while. I don't like this feeling of guilt, self guilt. I haven't really let anyone down except for myself. So I don't know if that's better or worse than letting down another person.
I should be devoting more time to building websites, finishing projects, and helping my family. My father has all this radio equipment gathering dust in the garage on the property they own. Some of it's pretty valuable too, or at least could get a pretty price in an online auction. These are the things I need to do.
Usually writing helps me. It helps my thought process gather in one place, from a jumbled together pile in my brain to a linear, succinct story on a page. In note form. Do this, remember that, be grateful for this, and so on. The problem is, unlike Cleopatra Jones, the author (pseudonym, I can only assume) of the aforementioned pillow talk blog, I can't share with you what's really on my mind. It's relationship stuff. I guess that's all I can say.
I have figured out one thing, though, and I would like to share it. If you love something, let it go. Be gentle and don't hold on too tightly.
It's pretty cool, written by a young 20-something gal in New York City. Hers is a much more personal blog, and many entries deal with men and the problems that come with them, but I like her writing. It's snappy. Kinda like how I think about my own. There's no photo associated with the blog, but given the subject matter, I can understand why she would value her anonymity.
So I read other people's blogs, but I don't keep up with my own. In past entries, I spoke so much of projects, this website that I was going to build, the idea that I could create an awesome space for people to communicate about conscious travel. Sadly, It's still not formed into anything. It makes me feel like I've failed myself. It reminds me of what I need to be doing right now, what I should have been doing for a while. I don't like this feeling of guilt, self guilt. I haven't really let anyone down except for myself. So I don't know if that's better or worse than letting down another person.
I should be devoting more time to building websites, finishing projects, and helping my family. My father has all this radio equipment gathering dust in the garage on the property they own. Some of it's pretty valuable too, or at least could get a pretty price in an online auction. These are the things I need to do.
Usually writing helps me. It helps my thought process gather in one place, from a jumbled together pile in my brain to a linear, succinct story on a page. In note form. Do this, remember that, be grateful for this, and so on. The problem is, unlike Cleopatra Jones, the author (pseudonym, I can only assume) of the aforementioned pillow talk blog, I can't share with you what's really on my mind. It's relationship stuff. I guess that's all I can say.
I have figured out one thing, though, and I would like to share it. If you love something, let it go. Be gentle and don't hold on too tightly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
