I think I'm just too hippy-dippy and free-spiritish (read: lazy as fuck) to keep to a schedule of posting a photo a day.
BUT. This project has made me realize that I need to pay more attention to this blog. And I intend to. So sometimes I'll post silly pictures, sometimes I'll write stuff. And when I don't feel like it, well, I just won't. You can always find me spouting off bullshit on Twitter and Facebook if you're really interested. Which...well, let's just leave that one open-ended.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you, Ferrtileblog. You're like my neglected little sister who was fun to play with when no kids my age were around, but who got thoughtlessly tossed aside like a stinky sock when the cool older chick down the block came to play Charlie's Angels With No Shirts On in my backyard. Always dependable. Always present and ready for a game of barbies. I will try not to take you for granted as much.
I've been having crazy dreams lately. Mostly I think because I'm preparing for a big move from the city in which I've dwelled for the last 9 years -- from the apartment my daughter was born in, from my friends and family and favorite liquor store -- and planning to defect to the hothouse tropics of Southern Suburbia. I'm all Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and mint juleps and afternoon siestas like Scarlett O'Hara. More on this topic to come, of course, as plans unfold.
Mostly my nightly sleeps have been fraught with terrifying scenarios where I am lost in a mall/subway station/high school and late for something. Or I'm about to take a final exam in a subject I've never studied. Or go on stage to star in a play I've never rehearsed. I fake it fairly well, but basically I can't fool anyone and feel as transparent as saran wrap.
I've had enough therapy to understand that these dreams are simply my anxiety over making a big change, working itself out in my subconscious.
They still suck, though, and make me wake up feeling all bloaty and sweat-filled.
More later, bloggers. I loves ya.
1 day ago