All These Things
All these things and all this stuff has been happening and I’ve been trying not to be “an idiot” about it (I’m not; don’t let other people’s hate-talk bring you down) but I’m not NOT and I’m actually self-possessed and aware enough to not be bothered by trivial failure.
But all these things and all this stuff has been happening and 1) NO i have not been to Occupy Wall Street, because I prefer to spend my rare free time decompressing and I simply hate crowds, and 2) i’ve been having sex with someone who makes me feel beautiful and worth it and like i’m all that with some limes squeezed into it (does she do this for everyone?) and 3) there are a lot of colors in my mind, and I want to write about them subtly and 4) the swirling morass of possibility and emotion and 5) being “the ugly American” except not, I feel myself to be the very antithesis of and 6) there is no one thing I am doing that everyone or no one else could not be doing at this time if they were particularly inclined. Which they are not, and which is hard to remember.
So BEEEW. For the first time in what feels like a century, the weight of the world is off my shoulders. I’m going home this weekend and I don’t particularly CARE what happens, I just know that I will be happy to see my family. To see my sister. Meet her boyfriend. Cook with my mom, sit with my dad, talk with both of them. I am excited to veg out in front of the TV and smoke backyard cigarettes, my set of “new home rituals” that got born after I left pretty permanently for college and really never moved back.
I don’t know. I just don’t hate everything right now, I have certain hopes for myself and the future, and that should keep me on gentle nebulous clouds for at least the next half-hour
