Thursday morning and I’m checking my phone like some love-sick fool. Waiting for that red light to flash and the email icons with the red star which will be signaling news. Nothing. And just to clarify, I’m not love-sick, unless it is true that music is my boyfriend. I woke up with that horrid heavy sleep depraved feeling that has been stalking my body for a couple of weeks. I look longingly toward Saturday like some light at the end of a distant tunnel. Then Saturday comes and there’s so much I want to do that I feel gross by the time I wake up mid-morning…which turns into early afternoon after lounging in bed with Kingston (the ipod) getting inspiration for a day that looks a bit like a blank canvas. Hello! Flashback to Thursday… right here. right now, fatboy slim. I’m just waiting to hear that a plan has been devised. That there is reason to this rhyme and a schedule is emerging from the beneath the proverbial London fog. Answers to these questions scrawled on the walls of my mind, and echoed every blasted time I have a conversation:
"When am I going back to london? When are we doing this album? When can I leave this desk and get to doing what it is I love? When can I shout out this vision I’ve written down so we can all start to really get excited?"
I feel like that kid on Christmas morning trying so hard to fall asleep. That kid in the backseat of the car wanting to know if we’re there yet? I’m trying to make the best and do some drawings and play some games to hold us over, but I’m getting carsick and cramped and antsy.
Just waiting for my turn. Everyone else’s name has been called. And I’m seated silently trying very hard not to fidget. Trying very hard to be oh so very good. Wondering when they’ll call my name.
Meanwhile, it’s Thursday morning and Wednesday was a weird one.
It brought a new friend in the shape of a brokenhearted gorgeous girl… our immediate common ground being one that would most often drive a wedge between people. Instead it would be the thing to connect us. And though I’m sorrowful for her pain, and regret time wasted in my own life on the same fragile distraction, I’m ever so glad to offer any bits of comfort to her weary heart.
My gym wants to charge an absurd amount of money to have access to the location around the corner from my workplace. This is lame. Looks like I’ll be getting acquainted with this little town on the Potomac along with the rest of the lycra-clad runners with their dogs in the early morning. Probably best anyway.
You know that song ‘the first cut is the deepest’? There’s a lot of truth to that tune, you know. Those things that happen to you when you’re very young stick with you a very long time. The roots go deep and seem to be the channeling the lifesource for the issues that come up later in life.
I need a lawn specialist, y'all.
I’ve looked at my phone at least 3 times while writing this. It may not even go off until tomorrow.
But I’m a very small girl with galactic-sized dreams.
And I’ve never been more aware of this than now.
Courage little lady.
Hello Goliath. I got a slingshot and a pocket full of rocks.