familiartiy

what is it?? ...we're attracted to other masses of matter simply because mass is attracted to mass (though I'll refamiliarize myself with the theory tonight, I'm not quite there with the spontaneous explanation) and you're matter and I'm matter, and I'm sitting in my apartment as you move out...it's still my apartment. Sorry. I know...not good logic. Whatever.

I'm in the midst of some gnarly (heh...I don't have the balls to say in but I'll sure as shit write it), changes. Shedding one layer of skin, growing another. The new one is super hot, I swear.

Super, ice melting hot. I swear.

doldrum

I'm blue. Stomach-hurting, eye-burning, sad. Bummed. Tired and lazy and pained. I've got decisions to make that I don't want to think about and people to hurt because I'm more concerned with the decisions to be made than the people they concern.

Blue.

I like the idea of fate because it means your choices aren't quite yours. You're removed of the responsibility of ramification. Doesn't matter what is chosen, fate will override your decision. Or, instead, your decision was fate's making to begin with.

Tomorrow, I'm going to let fate rule my day. Just need a medium through which fate can speak. Rock-paper-scissors isn't effective without an opponent (not sure fate can manifest hands to play with). Dice? Coins?

A Twister spinner?

I feel old

Man, I can't hang like I used to. One late night and I'm on my ass for the entire next day. I feel like I was beaten with the vodka bottle I drank from. I remember the days when I went out more days a week than I stayed in and still managed to be normal (relatively) during the day. College. What an expensive excuse to party.

I am enjoying the act of maturation - I'm definitely more at peace with myself than I was a few years ago. My 20's have been fun. I've learned a lot. I've grown up a lot. I've seen and done a lot.

I'm officially over 27.5 years old. I don't feel like a grown up though. Grown ups own expensive things and don't use the word "poop" while at work. Grown ups get married, have children, eat healthy and read non-fiction.

Poop. Pooooop. Now excuse me while I open the door for the pizza guy and continue with my survey of online celebrity gossip.

Friday Night

Always understood others' appreciation of Fridays. and of course, always looked forward to them myself. However, tonight...for no apparent reason, tonight is simply fantastic. It's real. Nothing confusing, no loss of control. It was simply...easy. I saw some old friends, I had some good, silly, at-times-giggly conversation, I ate some terrible pizza, I watched a bit o' television and soon I am going to bed. I look forward to waking tomorrow in an apartment that is not air-conditioned; a bit sticky and warm.

I am excited to sleep. Another of the indisputable appeal of a Friday - the extra time allowed to lay a bit and wake up more slowly than typically allowed by the demands of a work day.

Ahhhh.

It's quite late and I'm alright with that.

the inevitable

It was a weekend with not much to do, a cold, no money and in turn, too much thinking.

Forced introspection can be a bitch, but sometimes one does end up with a pearl after...sitting on a grain of sand for a while? Oh...that's absolutely gross. Anyway...

Here are my weekend lessons to self:

1. Enough with the self-doubt. Sometimes extenuating circumstances are just that: extenuating. Keep internalizing external problems and you'll end up with complexes and ulcers...and inevitably you'll be that whiney friend that no one wants to talk to. Hell, you're half way there.

2. Own up to your strengths. Yes, in embracing them comes expectations and accountability. However, if you ignore them you're living under a strange self-imposed ceiling. Don't be such self-defeatist.

3. Stop wearing slippers as shoes. You're not a 70 year old man and you live in the city. Plus, you have a closet full of shoes you've never worn.

4. You don't like white wine. Quit buying it.

arrrgghh (like a pirate)

I don't feel well. Throat hurts, skin hurt, bones hurt. Oh dem aching bones.

It's a funny feeling -- being sick. Not entirely unpleasant. Don't wish it upon myself for an extended length of time, but there is something...something about being cocooned in your own little blanket of illness. It's like a cloak of sick. Enveloping and uncomfortable, but ownable. This is my virus. It's in me. It's mine. My body is reacting, preparing, and deploying it's internal resources to combat it. I'm sleepy, and aching, and puffy...but there is nothing to do but lay here and wait. That's ok with me. I can wait. And sleep. And ache. And lay in my viral cocoon, be warm, and wait for the blanket to dissipate.

feetantics

I walked home last night after having too many drinks. The shoes I was wearing wouldn't stay on my feet - literally, I'd kick one off with every few steps and then have to chase after it. Not being warm outside, I'd have to run towards it with my bare foot meeting the sidewalk, so my gait would become even more awkward (having only one shoe on the other foot that also wanted to be kicked off) as I tried to minimize the time my foot actually touched the cement. This occured probably every 30 - 50 steps, or every couple of minutes (how many steps does one walk in a minute?). In other words, this didn't happen two or three times, but several dozen.

Walk walk walk...shoe off (10 feet ahead)...hopwalkrun...shoe on...walk walk walk....

Living in a rather hustle bustle neighborhood, these antics were seen by many. However, I'm guessing that each person who saw me, was embarssed for me while thinking that they had been witness to a freak isolated incident (oh poor girl, drunk and lost her shoe while walking). If only they knew I was audibly giggling at myself at how ridiculous the 15 minute walk had become...that they were one of a gaggle of witnesses (yes, like geese), that I was no longer embarassed myself because my dignity had left with the last beer....

Hi, I'm Claire.