Slow down, September.
Things are moving fast. Too fast? I’m not sure.
I get overwhelmed by everything. My sense of ‘wow, this is too much’ is skewed.
As far as writing is concerned, I’m chugging along. Back to Shedding Skin.
Retconned motives, and tweaked some ideas to better fit the overarching plotline. Characters with purpose > characters with big dicks.
I’m reading The Left Hand of Darkness. I should definitely join a book club. I feel like, somewhere beneath the endless search for shit to keep myself occupied with, a book club would really improve my mood. Like, that shit sounds fun as hell. Sign me up.
Hobby stuff is going m e h . I got sick and I got tired and I basically forgot to socialize for a week.
Did I miss it? I dunno. What don’t I miss?
Starting to think my entire existence is committed to circulating nostalgic feelings toward toxic memories I can’t file away as bulk trauma. When I call it bulk trauma, that makes it sound less gross, doesn’t it? Compressed repression? Groomed prepubescent?
I won’t unpack that. It’s a waste of time.
Anyway, we’re homeowners. How fucking cool is that? We bought a house. A HOUSE IS OUR HOME IS OURS IS AHHHHHHH-
The negative factor is going to be the move, obviously. We’re slowly packing up for next month… mid-month probably?
I own so much shit. Clothing and books and weird mementos. 80% of “our” stuff is my stuff and I’m suffering for my hubris. It’s depressingly in character for me but it hits differently when life shoves circumstance in your face. BOXES OF SHIT.
No wonder I wind down with hardcore vulgarity and visions of futures I’d rather not live to see. I’m boring as fuck.
But wow.
We OWN a house.
HOMEOWNERS.
The world didn’t prepare me for success. I’m at a loss.
Guess I should write more vulgarity and think about how close the move is.
WOW.
Cheers Kat