Being stuck at home now isn’t really as bad as it was at any point last year, because now i have my apartment to retreat to. I mean… if i truly had some huge panic attack and needed to get out of the house, i could just catch a cab to my apartment. That’s my safe thought… knowing that i have the keys and that i can run away at any time.
I shouldn’t blog from this evil house. All of it comes out all wrong.
I really wanted a tattoo of a cloud for a while there, on my hip. Tattoos are so strange to me… permanent birthmarks which are really more like bookmarks to a certain time in your life… so you get to choose but you’ve got to choose carefully. i don’t think i’d really ever get one, though. And, white doesn’t show up well, so clouds are out of the question anyhow.
Um, so…. yeah… ignore all that rambling from last night. One week it’s children, the next week i want a tattoo. The instability is frightening…
Philosophy of life encapsulated in Christmas clean-up:
Mom: Oh, would you wrap up all that food we left on the table and put it in the refrigerator?
Twenty minutes later, i had eaten it all…
… I haven’t really actively listened to Madonna’s “Angel” since i was 13, and that’s a very liberal estimate. I think i might cry now….