The Dull Blade Cuts

I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom.  I am still at stage one of Japanese tidying, but I am not at stage zero.  I am getting everything in massive piles.  It was in massive piles before, but now they’ll be separated massive piles with tops, and pants, and skirts rather than a giant mishmash of everything everywhere.

This makes me feel better.  It is more than could ever hope to be accomplished in a single evening on a single whim, but, it is something more than nothing.  It’s non-zero progress.

Also, non-zero? Nail polish.  Been staring at my naked nails for ages, having done nothing about it, staring so long that the nail polish I intended to use was all dried out.  Which was depressing given it was a $13 bottle.  But I tried to fix it with the directives from the internet, adding a little nailpolish remover into it.  But it’s all pasty and dry and I think it might be a lost cause.

Instead, I’ve a matte red and found in the box of nail polish the bright matte red lipstick that would work well with it and that navy blue dress that’s in the wash and all of this makes me feel a bit more grown up than a girl who watched TV and ate 5-day old pad thai for dinner.

This is, I think, due in part to having watched Grav3yard Girl.  She’ll forgive me, I’m sure for not necessary spelling that perfectly.  She had a recent video talking about people who were commenting that they liked her better before and she essentially expounds on the value of youtubing, self-expression and change as positive elements to beating back her anxiety and depression.  Doing something you love can lead to all these other possibilities.  Just by walking the path.

Just by starting.  I don’t know how to remagic myself into just always knowing when I get lost how to get found.  It is always the process of stepping towards rationality, of stepping towards organization, of stepping towards the visions I have for myself rather than a giving up of failed policies.  Eventually, that shit falls away, but you get so clingy for it that you get scared to pull away from it.

Old lessons, old messages, re-stated for these, our so very modern times.

I am wishing I had a day tomorrow to here, on my own, to cement these thoughts in my head. It’s odd to be stressed about the job, but to have this idea that there’s only eight hours of it to face tomorrow and then I’m not there.  I wonder…I just wonder on some levels if that messes me up in both places. I feel bound to both masters and yet, really, to neither.  Forgetful and focused on myself.  I suppose, that’s just what has to be right now.

So.  Yes.  The girl begins with herself yet again.  All the hopes and dreams for this year that seemed dashed when my granddad died, when my mom got her diagnosis, when the kitty had to be put down when my work hours and salary got slashed, when I didn’t hear the things I needed to hear.

Well, they didn’t splatter on the rocks, they floated there and waited for the water to rise.  And perhaps their patience is now rewarded.

 

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