A few nights ago we saw the kind of movie that makes you feel guilty and grateful. Do you know what I mean? The sort that makes you (atleast momentarily) acknowledge that you are lucky, that things are good, or at least that you are not so terribly unlucky, and that things could certainly be a lot worse. My eyes left the screen with my head politely, shamefully bowed, and talked online about my plans to make amends, to be less whiney and more appreciative.
Hours or minutes later, though, and all of that business is right out the window, I'm right back to where I started, feeling sorry for myself about things that are probably not so bad, feeling inconsolable despite the fact that the most urgent of these issues have deadlines, and that they will consequently evaporate in a matter of weeks. Why is it so hard to hang onto that feeling of gratitude, anyway, I mean, why is it so necessary but exhausting to try to keep inside of you?
Once again I drift and melt back into the "I Need A Friend" fiasco of May, June, July, 2005.
Although, for the most part, I find myself walking around level headed and confident, without needing anybody to walk with.
I find myself enjoying my solitude. And so I guess I am maybe and possibly just used to wanting a friend, without actually wanting one.
Well, I'm glad I've solved that. On to the next:
Adam and I just made fries. I should have taken pictures of him peeling the potatoes and getting very in touch with his Irish heritage. Also, no matter how many times I've washed my hands, they still smell like Crisco, which I'm finding out is not such a terrible smell.