sunday morning

i want to melt into this page. i want to work through emotions with everything i write, but sometimes - sometimes i hate this damn cursor. if there’s no instant gush of words, no natural dump of sentiments, then the challenge to work on these feelings commences. it’s a curse. a portal to future thoughts, current notions, past retrospect, but my blank thoughts mirror this damn blank page so damn well sometimes. every thought becomes cursory.

i know i rush these posts. my anxiety gets me and i just become ready to move on. i start and halfway through i tire and i hit that publish button anyway and i don’t even care. let it be lousy. for me. for the world. i’m human after all and refuse to stress myself out over a space i created for myself. if i allow a lousy post, then that was my state of mind and i accept that. maybe the next one will be better. maybe the next one will be happy nostalgia. or not. but as of this moment, i don’t even care. i don’t have a schedule here. i don’t have an obligation here. yesterday’s post was terrible. worst one yet probably. but the excitement of the moment was captured, i think, and i don’t even care. yesterday felt as it should.

0429

i’m using my coffee mug as a hand warmer, finally. the way my hands secure the shape of it, like it was meant and molded from my hands, for my hands. i stole it from my grandmother when i lived down south with her. she has a set of bowls to match. i think they were made by a local artist, but i’m not sure. she knows i stole it. she loves that i stole it. as dumb as it sounds, it’s like i stole a piece of her and i’ve used this mug every morning for the past 1000 mornings, which in turn means i’ve thought of her for the past 1000 mornings. i kind of hate that we need objects sometimes to think of someone, a loved one. i don’t want to need an object. i just want to think of them in honor of them, in knowing that they simply exist, or don’t, doesn’t matter. but i just want them to come forward in my thoughts without a trigger. without me getting irritated at maria for making me cry at work.

0444

i’ve been seeing these numbers almost habitually now. is this validation that i’m on the path to something better? or at least the right path? or something like that? i don’t know the numbers game, but i’ve heard 4s are good and seeing them consecutively means they’re angel numbers. unfortunately, i’m not very religious, just open. open to whatever because who am i to dismiss everything and every belief. but honestly, it’s a comforting thought that a guardian angel is watching out for me and trying to tell me something and guide me in the right direction. i understand why people find comfort in religion. but this numbers game. maybe i’ll look more into it. maybe not.

0511

it’s eerily quiet right now and i don’t know if it’s my brain or the world.

when did life become a constant burnout? every day is repeating itself.

jenn turned on the heater last night for the first time this season and now the devil is in the house. the thermostat reads 66.6. i say what’s up.

tomorrow will be 3 years married. wtf. how did that happen? when did that happen? it feels like forever and yesterday. forever and fleeting. god i fucking love her.

i moan about a lot of things and i’m sorry for that, but i also write a lot about love because, like Vonnegut once said, “once that particular subject comes up, it’s almost impossible to talk about anything else.”

0644

it’s light outside now and i don’t see a single cloud. it makes me sad and mad, but the sun will shine regardless.

i used to be a professional cd burner back in the day and made an inordinate amount of mixes for friends. that was my thing. i was that friend. and if it was the first mix you got from me, this song was guaranteed the opener. it’s the beginning of a road-trip for me. hop in, throw the cd in the player, and adventure awaits. the first time i heard it was in a truck with my uncle driving parallel with the ocean and it felt surreal and, for me, this is when the song feels at its peak perfection.