First off, I want to thank everyone who has seen my online, but away, message on google chat and has actually followed the pointed instructions to not disturb. Your ignoring of me has been priceless.
I’m almost done the overdue work. That would be the paying gigs. I’m not even close to being done (or even started) the unpaying ones. Such is my life, always a reaction, rarely proactive, when it comes to balancing work and life.
I’ve spent the last week or so working at a back-breaking pace, or avoiding it altogether whilst still ignoring the Internet. It’s been surprisingly peaceful, not tweeting all the time, not reading the fifty thousand posts you people publish, going ‘fuck it.’ But now, the guilt has resumed – the belief that I am not deserved of the rest and staycation I’ve indulged in.
I mean, come on, I haven’t baked a loaf of bread in almost two weeks. I’m a selfish heathen.
What have I accomplished?
I’ve added more ideas and dreams onto the blogging to do list.
I’ve bookmarked more writing jobs to apply for, after deciding that I should definitely give my online portfolio an overhaul (and new home).
I’ve daydreamed of the fall and preschool’s commencement.
I met a cute boy.
I got my hair done – and I’m delighted with it. It’s exactly the mixture of gothy and rock star that I’ve always wanted and never gotten. And requires concealer at all times. Of course, it cost half a month’s groceries to get it. But, it’s nearly as perfect as I can imagine it could be.
I think I won a cute boy’s date in that auction thingy I was part of.
I’ve read two cook books and two others.
I wore a bra everyday, at some point.
I’ve overspent and brought upon chest-caving stress about money, even though it’s not that bleak – I just lack a consistent laissez-faire approach to money and next month will be different.
I’ve considered quitting one blogging gig, an unpaying one, for feeling spread too thin, for too little, as well as some politics that have irritated me. I’m holding off on that, for now, until I have another paying gig to acquiesce the ‘I gave up’ feeling about it.
I spent some actual real quality time with Isobel. (Should I still be calling her Isobel?) I wasn’t just making the day pass as movies were played and bedtime seemed so very far away.
I’ve started aggressively teaching her french. Because, for the love of god, she’s going to have french as a second language before her uncle comes back from China and attempts to teach her five asian languages.
I booked my next tattoo’s appointment – April 18th – after going for a consult. During which, we decided that four lines of song lyrics will be abridged into two lines of ink, which will arch with the curve of (and over) my left hip.
I’ve become friends (again) with JDawg.
I ate an entire cheesecake, after four weeks of no dairy, chocolate or wheat, plus pms conspired to cause a meltdown. An entire 9″ triple chocolate (with cookies and fudge) cheesecake, within 25 hours.
I’ve continued to avoid coffee, wheat, dairy and pork (except for the cheesecake blunter, and a quesadilla).
I drank. A lot. My tolerance has grown.
I got lectured about my self esteem from both JDawg and another friend. It’s seriously off the charts low, apparently. And that makes me a bit of an idiot, if I read their speeches correctly. So. To sum that up, lack of confidence=stupid. Gotcha.
I lost three pounds. Not for trying. (remember. Cheesecake.)
You know. Same old.
