You’d think with all the moving this week and the super busy (entertaining) Friday night I had, I would be empty-headed and not so damn pensive… Typically, I’m happiest when I’m busy because I can’t dwell on things and overthink things.
Today was perfect. I was ready for work today. I got a lot done. Ordered some business cards for an existing client and started work on two new projects for new clients. Got home in time to sit and be still for a bit before I got the boy off the bus. He’s reading on the back porch right now, “It’s a REAL chapter book, mom. The pictures are only there every five or six pages!” And I’m… being pensive.
I should quit nosing around the internet and looking into the corners. I should write — I have this big project I’m doing a barter with my great friend, Brent Walker. I’m doing some story-writing for a new project for him and in exchange, I’m getting a photo shoot!
But today, I need to make my new room mine… I’m clearing out the bookshelves that are in here currently and filling them with all of my books… The old, dusty editions of books I’ve read dozens of times… The few complete series I’ve got… The new books that are just as special to me. And then, when I have this bookshelf done, I’m hanging paintings. That’s something I never got around to doing at my old apartment — the walls were plaster and impossible to hammer into — that, or I’m a weak little girly girl. Or something.
I got my bed put together last night and spent the night under my familiar down comforter with my kajillion pillows. It was really what I needed… Feeling so very restless lately, I literally sank into my bed and slept like a dream last night.
So today: Get the bookshelf situation done. Hang some paintings. Then write. WRITE. It’s time to write. I’m ready to flex my muscles and weave webs. I love fucking weaving webs.
It’s really pretty today and I’m still feeling pensive and melancholy but not quite so emotional.
Oh, also… I talked to the Giant last night. It was really good… I asked him if I could be his friend again, later… When things weren’t so hard for me. Of course, he said yes. “I’m sad. I love talking to you. I’ve lost a friend.” I apologized for being crazy and he reassured me I wasn’t crazy. He took all the responsibility for things landsliding the way that they did. He’s mad at himself that he was reckless with my heart — he never intended for it to be like that. He’s kind and he understands me and I think, after time, we’ll get back to a place where I can be comfortable being his friend again.