It's been awhile.
Have you ever had one of those days...one of those, inexplicable stimulation days? One of those lower esophagus days? One of those what-strange-and-unholy-creature-is-this-playing-cat's-cradle-with-my-internal-organs days?
Welcome to my Tuesday. Try not to let the welcome mat gnaw at your ankles on the way out.
Life has stagnated again, and with the exception of my random 'stunning digestive pyrotechnics', all is calm and well in the little corner of southern Albertan hospitality that I've carved for myself. I'm anxious these days, for a number of reasons I could fit in one fist. I'm up in Calgary tomorrow to get the beginning of my travel arrangements worked out. Ooh - just got the little thrill there that comes as a staple side with every value menu order of "Thoughts of Getting the Hey-Diddle-Diddle Out". There is nothing more I desire right now than to wash away the prairie dust from my heels with a thousand miles of Atlantic ocean and the tide of a continent in which no one knows my face. The largest decision facing me presently is what I'm going to call this new girl all alone in the UK. I've always wanted to be a Joe. Maybe Aamalynn, at formal affairs. Kai to anyone who gets really close.
There are of course smaller matters to be fretted over as well, the smallest of which not being '...what the hell am I going to do?" But although I've been diligent in my preparations, all the little trivial things (if you are not me, you may know these things by a different title: "vital arrangements") are kind of just ebbing by me. I see them, and they're very lovely little pieces of necessity - I deal with them accordingly...but I can't get as uppity as some would think I should be. My greatest concerns are not how I am going to find work. What should happen if I'm mugged, lost, or sold in the pacific sex trade. I wonder about the things I will be taking with me - and the things I will leave behind. I'm realizing some things fall into the latter which should be safely stowed away in their upright-and-locked former position. And some things...
Some things play games of knots with your innards and won't be left with the family pets, blowdriers, memories and Canadian vodka.
Welcome to my Tuesday. Try not to let the welcome mat gnaw at your ankles on the way out.
Life has stagnated again, and with the exception of my random 'stunning digestive pyrotechnics', all is calm and well in the little corner of southern Albertan hospitality that I've carved for myself. I'm anxious these days, for a number of reasons I could fit in one fist. I'm up in Calgary tomorrow to get the beginning of my travel arrangements worked out. Ooh - just got the little thrill there that comes as a staple side with every value menu order of "Thoughts of Getting the Hey-Diddle-Diddle Out". There is nothing more I desire right now than to wash away the prairie dust from my heels with a thousand miles of Atlantic ocean and the tide of a continent in which no one knows my face. The largest decision facing me presently is what I'm going to call this new girl all alone in the UK. I've always wanted to be a Joe. Maybe Aamalynn, at formal affairs. Kai to anyone who gets really close.
There are of course smaller matters to be fretted over as well, the smallest of which not being '...what the hell am I going to do?" But although I've been diligent in my preparations, all the little trivial things (if you are not me, you may know these things by a different title: "vital arrangements") are kind of just ebbing by me. I see them, and they're very lovely little pieces of necessity - I deal with them accordingly...but I can't get as uppity as some would think I should be. My greatest concerns are not how I am going to find work. What should happen if I'm mugged, lost, or sold in the pacific sex trade. I wonder about the things I will be taking with me - and the things I will leave behind. I'm realizing some things fall into the latter which should be safely stowed away in their upright-and-locked former position. And some things...
Some things play games of knots with your innards and won't be left with the family pets, blowdriers, memories and Canadian vodka.