New goals :)

Vintage framed oil painting - dated 1952

1. Walking a marathon
2. Climb a mountain - Be on top of everything
3. Kill honeysuckle in yard
4. Find a new project to immerse myself in :)

Right now, I'm particularly thinking about #4. I feel like I have huge chunks of time that are filled with me being tired, but not sleeping, not working, just tired. And something can be done with this time, and I don't think it's finishing Anna Karenina. I don't know what it is. I don't know if I'm going to start painting large canvases with abstract nudes, paying more attention to my victory garden, or finding a way to open my MCC thrift store.

Graduating without plans to pursue a PhD means I will eventually have to figure out a way to fill the time I once packed to the gills with papers that made no sense, working like a fiend, and occasionally feeding myself with bowls of raisin bran.

I'll let you know what I come up with :)

Piles and piles...

This coat just screams "Mountain Man", don' it?

Right now, I have a pile of clothing on my bed, already photographed, waiting to be listed. I had a momentary meltdown yesterday about money, so working today makes me feel calmer, like I have some power over my circumstances.

I spend like half my income on medical bills. So all this extra bullshit with my brain just makes me feel like I'm going to die in debt. I feel like I can't get out of it, so I'm working as much as I can to empower myself through December to pay my bills and buy groceries, simultaneously. A girl can hope.

My wish on the yoga studio's Christmas tree last night is to get out of debt someday. I just hope it will be someday soon.

I hate money.

Have you spoken to a child lately?

Like really, seriously and intentionally, had a conversation with a child? Children, who I often refer to as aliens in this world (because everything is new to them), are extraordinarily brave and authentic. I often feel thankful when I remember that I spend a lot of my days working one-on-one with children, children who want to be heard and seen. And it seems like such a small thing, my entrance into their lives, such a small, insignificant thing.

But then I remember how I saw adults who took time for me when I was young. The smallest things changed me. When I was about nine years old, a friend of the family picked me up unexpectedly from ballet. I don't even recall why, but she was going to take me to her house where I'd wait for my parents to pick me up. And on the way home, we stopped by this little burger stand and she got me a burger and fries, and for some inexplicable reason, this seemed like a magical gift to me.

I'll never forget that moment, and how I later felt when she died, that she had seen me in this really sharp, powerful way, and gave me something to hold onto when life continued to be rough. I think that maybe, deep down (because I'm tearing up right now, just thinking about it), she really cared, and somehow, deep down, I could feel that. So every time I see a child, I know how important it is for me to see them, and acknowledge them, that small things that seem insignificant to me, might seem huge and life-changing to them, and I won't let those precious moments go by wasted.

Anyhow, thoughts of the day. Peace out :)