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It's time for another "good idea, bad idea".
Good idea - not going through the box full of diaries and old birthday cards.
Bad idea - doing exactly that and adding a glass of brandy to the mix ( Read more... ) -
Another therapy poem
Apart
Drifting like trash in the gutter
Me
I am the bile rising up
The scent of resentment
Disappointment devouring
My senses
Together
Similar but never the same
Never again
Perhaps
“Time will heal”
They say
Does it? -
Let's give it up for Brandy!
I am not in a good mood right now. My mindfulness meditation group leader just called me (at 9:15 pm) after I specifically indicated that the best time to reach me is 4:30 to 6:00 pm. What part of that did you not understand?! Fuck. Now I have to go listen to her fucking voicemail because my phone is flashing ( Read more... ) -
Moving plans and why I am ready to gauge my eyes out.
Discussing moving plans with my father is akin to dipping my face gently into a bath of undiluted hydrochloric acid. Especially when you also have to tell him at the same time that you will not, despite long standing plans, be moving in with your boyfriend of 4 years. Try explaining that to your very Russian and traditionalist father. It's fucking ( Read more... ) -
The big 3.0
I'm gonna be 30 this year. It's daunting. What have I achieved? Where am I in my life ( Read more... ) -
Did you miss me, LJ? I am back with another poem.
Tonight I had a "hot toddy" because I have a cold and I feel like I deserved it. It consisted of: 2 oz. brandy, 1 cup boiling water, a cinnamon stick, some candied oranges (because I had no real oranges), slices of nectarine and some pure apple juice from concentrate. It was tasty and boozy and then I listened to a bunch of Lana Del Ray and cried ( Read more... ) -
Oh. My. Goodness.
So that is my new catchphrase. Oh my goodness. This is what happens when you work with kids. Fuck. I have no idea how I got here. How did I get here? Why the FUCK am I working with kids? I know it's kids with Autism but still, why the fuck am I working with kids when I should be the last person to work with kids ( Read more... ) -
An apology letter in poetry form. I know, I am so deep and pathetic.
I stretch out my arms towards nothing ( Read more... ) -
Melancholia indeed.
Sometimes I wonder how this will really end ( Read more... )