SO. I tend to get overly emotional when the full moon starts hitting, as it signals pain time. When I was pre-25 it never really bothered me too much, but as I have neared my middle age, things have gotten a bit trickier. I kind of want to donate the whole thing to curious university med students; primarily because it does me no good and is a constant source of pain and aggravation. babies? nah, they’d morph my already scarred belly into an exploding hot cross bun, jutting out more so to my left side, ripping my scar tissue into tiny spaghetti strings. if i tried to use it, my heart would probably come out attached to a string like an exploded carrot.

but anyhow. I have decided that it is both unnatural and pointless to focus on the difficulty of situations in my personal pursuit to not be a bar manager/bartender/banker/gym manager/dot com ingenue/barista/waitress/receptionist/administrative assistant/etc/etc. Honestly it’s one of those things you accept and get over. I have just been rebelling against that and flapping on occasion like an angry fish out of water.

of course it doesn’t help that the fall to me always signified something brilliant and pristine-educational possibilities, the turning of the leaves, the changing of friends, boyfriends, et al.

spunkilicious. i have decided to stay in boston until next weekend, going home tomorrow for the night to come back on sunday. it is much healthier for me to not be swirled around such misfortune, and be around Valerie and her sunny apartment. it is indeed good, and i will come back on sunday armed with sketchbooks and books, notebooks. i need to heal myself and figure out how to win the fat lottery.