I had piles of papers, photos and a myriad of crap I had to go through in order to make my room mine again. It has been a day. A long, six hour day of meandering through memory lane and dust bunny hell. When the music fails, and I have nothing to drown out the thoughts in my mind, I clean. I hate cleaning. I love the result, but the process always brings forth a whole lot of insight, things I don’t want to think about just sit there, looking at me like I’m an asshole for not putting them...
That was like the worst SEO title, ever. My bedroom is a mess. Not Hoarders-messy, but still, its making me crazy. Plus, I am out of kid activities for the day. I keep thinking that if I get my own personal space, I will somehow gain clarity, insight and peace of mind. Or, at least, a clean room. A clean room that only holds my things. Not Martian’s, Freedom’s, or the kids’ stuff. Mine. Alllll mine. Then, I can deal with bedroom furniture I hate, because it wasn’t mine to...
It actually used to be my favorite number, and I’m not sure what that’s all about. Today is November 4, and ahead of me is a 4-day weekend with my 4 kids. Solid, practical, stable number 4. The fourth time’s a charm? We’ve only got 4 minutes to save the world! (Tick tock tick tock tick tock) Today has been a weird, weird day. And, its only just beginning… at 4.
Jumping on the bandwagon that I fell off last year, I am officially committing to NaBloPoMo… again. I’d love to commit to NaNoWriMo, but, well, my life isn’t fabulous enough to allow me that amount of time. Yet. Its coming. IT HAS TO BE COMING! UGH! Ahem. November has come to symbolize a lot for me this year, which is probably a good thing, because I realized through some demented thoughts that I may actually be at my breaking point. My bootstraps, heart and soul are pretty much...
Its a little known fact that I actually am girly. I try to avoid the “girl” stuff, because, well, it enters into that area of life where emotions run rampant and my little black heart simply cannot deal. But, I have to admit, I enjoy the make-up, the clothes, the flutters I get from various songs, and the “chick flick” genre. I’m only human. At least once in a while. Rolling around my brain this week, through an onslaught of songs, several drives in the country, a lot...
