October 23rd, 08:46 | On a Sunday, I'll think it through
I feel as though I've been sleeping for six months.
I wouldn't have said I was a particularly impressive person. I have a lot of ideas, a couple poorly-planned goals, and almost no drive to actually achieve them most of the time. (Sound familiar? I don't feel bad, because I know a lot of people like that.) On occasion, however, I do get off my ass and accomplish one or two of them. Now, since some of the goals I set myself are frou-frou, easy goals (i.e. yesterday: finished first ever scrapbook page), I get all happy and accomplished-feeling over what amounts, really, to something totally insignificant. Nonetheless, it's there, and it makes me feel better, because hey, if I can do that, there's no reason I can't achieve a bigger goal, is there?
Thursday was a pinky-toe-crushingly good evening with the sister and her work friends at ladies' night (in my mom's knee-highs that almost fit) where I test-drove the modified tango skirt (acceptable; not as classy as hoped), downed a couple fake martinis (seriously chan, they had ice cubes in them) and took to the dance floor for a bit before we all tottered off home (by which I personally mean "staggered to her friendly coworker's car and skipped blissfully through the tracks on From the Choirgirl Hotel (which I love) while he drove my tipsy ass home").
The day after that, I hung out with the Workplace Girls (two of whom are now engaged, so we celebrated by (surprise), eating dinner and watching a chickflick (in this case Elizabethtown, which was better than I expected, despite starring two mediocre actors). I'm not sure what happened. Somewhere between walking onto the dancefloor and walking out of the theatre the next day, full of sappy Hollywood fluff, I felt like my head woke up, and I suddenly remembered that I need conversation and introspection and, you know, spark, human connection in my life. I don't know how I somehow forgot this about myself.
Conversation with the current boyfriend on the Friday night seemed to have encouraging results. I brought it up again yesterday, to disaster. I'm really not sure what's going on at the moment. It's a weird feeling to be in limbo.
On the one hand, I can't dismiss it, because we just fit together; everything just relaxes. On the other, I won't spend my life not-thinking, not-questioning, and not-knowing the guy I'm with, getting to share his... interiority. I won't. So if I've already waited about six months... how much longer am I willing to wait?
Last book read:
Last we checked,
++ "recent" ++
Wednesday, January 21st, 2009
Photos (200): 130
Kitty Photos (30): 40
Scrapbook (20): 1
Books (just for fun): 16