cocktail hangover

Day after day the rain comes in the evening, the windowsills wet. I eat an extra cookie, the chocolate melting bitter and sweet and sticky on my tongue, crumbs on the couch for sure, and put try and read, amidst all the home-maker stuff! A rookie home-maker!

So, I’ve been moody with this rain, the humidity making my hair curl and my skin stick. I have 10 tabs open in my internet browser and I’m on the verge of tears, right on the cusp of everything as usual. It’s so terrifying to contemplate doing more than whatever it is I’m doing right now.

As in: trying to get work, figuring more things out, putting my heart out there in thin lines of Trebuchet MS double spaced and waiting for whatever.

It’s terrifying to sit here on our art leather couch with all sorts of aches and bloated feelings contemplating what else could be a reality soon, or never, or maybe. What if I make it?

Sometimes that question is almost as confounding and daunting as What if I don’t?

Here are the things I suck at: networking, time lines and deadlines. Here are the things I am good at: sentences, earnestness, heart, metaphors, and dreaming.

Between those two columns are the three words that Nike made so very famous: just do it. Sometimes that feels impossibly hard. Sometimes I don’t even know what that looks like, doing it, going for it: where to begin?

Breath. I come back to that. And then I go back to my browser with it’s ten open tabs and try to make sense of my life.

And: Which is more terrifying: attempting success and failing, or failing to attempt success? Ha!


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