I told myself I would never get caught in the rigmarole of life again. Then I come back here and I allow it to happen just at a slow pace. And now. Well now it is as before. Not as heavy but just as thick. I can say taking a break from life as it was and as it is happens a lot. There isn't a day I don't stop to pinch myself. There isn't an hour where I don't look out into nothing. There isn't a weekend where I go inside myself and disappear. I fantasize about a life where this is not fretted upon. I want to go and never look for approval … not even of myself. Wherever my mind and heart takes me I will just go.
Work
I work about 30 hours a week for and with a friend. It is a small slow paced environment full of rolling change. I am accommodated. I am asked if I'd like to come in later or take a day. I drink coffee. I sometimes have a highball of whiskey. I am left to my own devices. Most of it is beyond me and I've settled with that. Not above me. Beyond me. So I do as I am told and I sometimes dabble in wins. However, most days I am keying away at things I may never understand. This is the work I have longed for. I can sometimes get there in two minutes if I catch all the lights. I am home at the hour when no one else is. I never fight traffic. I sometimes catch the bus. I have grossed just over $1000 after taxes working for almost two months. I have never called my mother in the night. When I made $1200 every two weeks I called my mother often. I was always worried about the wrong things. Now I have learned that trash bags are all the same no matter where you get them from. I have Obamacare and I did keep all of the same doctors I have not seen in over two years. If I get a roommate or side hustle I will be rich. I will be the richest girl alive.
Home
I live in 500 square feet. This is not the smallest place I've lived in. However, this is the most shit I've had in the least amount of space. I have learned to build things to organize it best. I have parted with my most daunting decorative burdens. I have a tiny kitchen with mediocre appliances. I have cooked meals of wonder in this kitchen. Kofte. Tuna Casserole. Pho. A few weeks ago I baked 36 cupcakes and 12 muffins in a night. I seldom vacuum. There just isn't much to it to notice a need. I DIY'd a hamper and spray painted it teal in the courtyard. I don't get much mail because I've been off the grid. I burn incense. I have a bowl of limes and blood oranges. I have people over almost every other day. I lived in 1600 square feet for a year and I never had a single person over. I brought a case of wine from the Carolinas and I feel the need to share. The overall theme to this place is to keep all the doors and windows open like Cleopatra and have parties every night. The air blows in. The glasses clink. The conversation flows.
Love
I've met who I thought was the one. I've been a Shiksa for a night. I took a call with someone who had pet raccoons. I've been offered to travel with a poly couple for a year. Someone told me this is dating. I haven't done it in long time but something feels off. I don't care for it but I do it because I am bored. On this dating site I've been in 1547 search results just tonight and apparently, allegedly 301 people "like" me. The guy down the street that drives the green truck hits on me 2.3 times a week. Maybe something is in the air. The one texted me till my eyes bled. The other invited me over for Chinese and has since messaged me odd tidbits like "today is the Ides of March, stay away from steak knives". At this rate the idea that I may come back, meet the love of my life and be married and with child in a year … well it has been postponed. I give myself until age 38 when Debi Mazar did it. I really don't love anyone but myself right now. And it shows.
Travel
For the past few months I have told myself over and over this blog is dead. I have said just because I am standing still doesn't mean I don't have the potential to go anywhere. I continually meet people who travel for business or work. I continue to talk up the importance of obtaining a passport. The other day I helped a woman on a motorcycle at Walmart put three bags of stuff into a mini backpack. There will soon be ferries to Cuba. JetBlue has $200 flights to Malaga. My boss throws away his monthly issue of Departures and I snag it. My French is getting so good. But so is my Russian, Politics, Catalan, Boolean, Portuguese and Farsi. I am not putting all my eggs in one basket. Ever. Again.
So I am loosely bound to my new identity and I can take it with me. I can also leave it behind in the right hands. I can come and go. In a book. At a gallery. Through a gaze. On his sofa. In the passenger seat. By the lake. Anytime. Whenever I want. Forever.
