Work

I am working again. Not for money, but for myself. Myself will last longer than $25 an hour.

Should

I should be upset and crying and packing.
Instead I am floating around and putting on nonsensicle makeup. Meditating on glitter. I am five years old again.

Connecticut

Oh what am I doing.
Photoshop crashes and brings the whole machine down when I resize the window. I'll never get any work done. This must be a forced vacation.

She played the flute

I remember when she snuck a bottle of vodka and orange juice in her bag and laughed when she told me it was her lunch.

She was 30 when she died of a heart attack.

Tuesday

I am making dread falls, but I have run out of hair. Time to order more.
I have a new (used) computer with a rotten spacebar. This makes it difficult to type.
Tonight, I also took a fancy shower with candles as I don't have a bathtub to soak in.
The cat is angry about the closed door. Cats hate closed doors.

Camp

It is no secret, I love to camp. I will be leaving tomorrow to wander the forest.

I'm sure you'll never update your blog, but you'll redesign it 3 times in the next week