Monday, September 19, 2011


I really don't have anything in mind to write about today, I just feel the need to post something. If I post something then I feel better about my day. I feel better about my future. I just feel better. Besides, if I don't post anything then the most productive thing I will have accomplished today is plucking a black hair from my chest. Yes, I found a black hair on my chest. I'm blonde, 26, and up until this point I was under the impression that I was female. But I still found a black hair on my chest. And I have to live with that. Now so do you. Sorry. So here I am posting- starting to feel better already.

I want to be one of those people who sets their minds to something and then they actually do it. I've been like that with a lot of things in my life. I wanted to go to college in LA, I made it happen. And for an authentic Mid-westerner that's no small feat. Then, I decided it was imperative that I spend 6 months in Paris, you know, to learn French. After college, It was London for 6 months. After that, I wanted to work in the art industry. I made these things happen. These are literal dreams that I made true. I thought of them in my head and then I DID it. Why does that seem like such a distant concept? Is it because I have been raped by reality? I honestly feel molested and frail and ashamed. I want to curl up in a ball in bed and eat 2 everything bagels toasted with vegetable cream cheese while watching The Simpsons. I realllly want to do that. But I did that on Friday. You can't do that on Friday and then again on Monday. You just can't.

So today, Monday, is one of those days where I say to myself "I'm going to accomplish something- I'm going to make active steps towards my goals." Of course it helps to have clear goals. Mine are kind of murky, confused versions of goals. But I'm taking steps towards them (I think). Today I went for a jog on the beach- 26 minutes without stopping. I think that adds up to 5.7 miles. That was an active step towards my goal of wanting to become completely emaciated. Then I nannied for 2 hours and when I got home I put away that pile of clothes that somehow became a damp mountain of 'clean' clothes mixed with some not-so-clean clothes. Now I'm posting. This is an active step towards wanting to write. Technically, I have achieved that goal because I am writing. So I guess this is what success looks like? I thought it would feel slightly different. Oh well. Who am I to argue with logic? I think I know just how to celebrate. Maybe I'll get extra cream cheese this time...

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