Category: Words

Little things

I think I learned to
love the little things about him
because of all the big things
I could not love, no one could, it would be wrong to.
–Sharon Olds/Little Things

I must be fine
Because my heart’s still beating
–White Stripes/Fell In Love With A Girl

Sometimes I wonder where the dividing line is between big things and little things. Acceptable and unacceptable. I wonder where to draw the line between being patient and understanding, and being a doormat who never says what she needs. I wonder where to put the line between seeking my own happiness and being a selfish monster who only thinks of herself. I wonder where the line is between saying what I want and creating drama. I wonder when to hang on and keep trying, and when it is better for me to let go and move on from something or someone.

I always wonder.

Right now, of course, I wonder even more than usual. About people, about things, about places, about jobs. Everything is completely up in the air, which is really great in some ways. Everything is possible. Everything has potential.

Or I could stop juggling for a second and everything could crash. I am afraid some things already have.

Have they really? I wonder about that, too.

I had to do something that I would rather not have done. I think that I will be the only one really impacted by it, but because of the situation I really don’t know for sure. It is something I really would have rather not had to do at all. If I did have to, I would rather have done it more gracefully. But they wouldn’t give me enough..something.. to either avoid it entirely or do it in a better way. It wouldn’t have taken much from them. A conversation. A phone call. Just a few minutes. I really feel like I couldn’t have kept things the way they were without it being bad for me. So. I am left wondering if it could have been different. Better. If it was the right thing to do.

Of course, I also wonder if all wasn’t just a crutch for me anyway. Not real at all. I don’t think so. I may not ever be sure.

One thing I have always believed, although I wouldn’t vouch for the philosophical rationality of the belief, is that things turn out for the best. How I reconcile this with pesky details like free will, is another thing I wonder about.

Still. Maybe it’s just my luck, but it seems like even my most asinine choices seem to result in a beneficial (to me) result.

Or

Maybe I just see every change as positive once I have been through it…

Like I said, I do wonder.

If one more thing will make me pop. I wonder about that. It’s been well established that I do not have the healthiest coping skills in the world. I can survive anything. I do not doubt that. Can my brain and liver take it though?

Can I survive this all in a way that doesn’t make everything around me burn? Does the Phoenix have to burn to resurrect? Can’t there be a metamorphosis without this kind of collateral damage?

Does everyone have to be hurt?

That I really wonder about.







Hair today, hair tomorrow

One thing I have never understood is the reluctance that many women have to change their hairstyles. I resist many forms of change, but hair? Please. Change it. Color it. Cut it. I don’t care. If it doesn’t look great, cut it again. Hell, shave it entirely. I don’t care. It will grow back.

I almost got the sides shaved off entirely…and still kind of wish I had. Oh well. Next time.

There are only two rules:
1. It can’t look like a goat has been grazing on the back of my head.
2. No puppy ear flaps.

Three rules:
3. Not too blonde.

Today? Shorter. Bare necked. Lighter on the head. It’s good.

0200 again??

It is not due to any mental distress, I don’t think.
It is just too hot to sleep, even with the AC going in the bedroom.

Oh, so that’s why.

It was blowing warm air in because the hose popped off the back. My little C3PO room air saves my life, except when the hose that makes the warm air go outside comes off the back of it and the warm air heats the room instead of being pumped outside. It was 80 degrees in here, and I do not enjoy a hot bedroom unless I am the one heating it up.

There is nothing like a little nocturnal AC repair session to liven things up in the boudoir.

Duct tape to the rescue, at least temporarily. I foresee a trip to Home Despot for a new hose in my future…

In a few minutes, it will be cool enough to sleep again.

At least my hair looks good. That is super important when you are alone in a hot bedroom. That sounded like a really boring Tennessee Williams play. The one he wrote just before the cat jumped out of the hot bedroom and onto a hot tin roof.

I am getting verrrryyyyy sleeeeeepppyyyyy.
Hmmm, hypnosis didn’t work.

Or maybe it did…yawn.

Say goodnight, Princess Cupcake.

‘Night, everybody.

With black branches