Not only did I slice the tip of my very important index finger (it's vital for so many functions, chief among them being the surreptitious eye gunk removal I do forty times a day because I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to everything, or maybe just to my own dander) wide open while doing dishes this week, I have also taken up the task (for the upcoming move into My Very Own Home That I Will Own And Be The Owner Of) of sorting the giant boxes of
If I can't get rid of them, which I can't, quite, not yet, then I can at least sort and date them, the more efficiently to read them, maybe with an afghan on my lap and a nice cup of tea, some far off day with a far less critical and self-loathing eye than I appear to have now.
Even just skimming them, oh bittersweet marmoset of the cosmos do two things quickly make themselves apparent A) I am and always have been a giant self-obsessed whiner (sorry about that) and B) I am and always have been loony-fucking-toons. Yowza but some of the entries make my hair stand on end. Really, I am astonished that I survived without medication for as long as I did. Must be all the coffee.
Anyhoo, I found a snippet that I kind of like and also am vaguely humiliated by, a feeling which I must mitigate by sharing it with the entire internet.
10 Mar 2002
I sit in front of my dusty mirror putting lipstick on my chapped mouth and I think this: I should burn my life down like a barn and start fresh from its ashes. I am tired of being stale bread, smelly shoes, a holey sweater. I hate this thing, this mawing, splintered, boring thing I've made of who I am and it will not change without my changing it.
I will leave the shit that demeans me, that makes me feel sluggish and mediocre and I will forge something new. Something shining and breathtaking and beautiful.
Which is pretty hopeful, if you think about it. And I am still here, after all.
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I actually really like that snippet. Especially the last two sentences.
ReplyDelete(Thank you for putting them out here!)