strike that

march forth

Today I met some friends for breakfast and read the paper on the porch of a coffeeshop and mended a skirt and weeded the garden and Swiffered the floors and met a different friend for an early evening drink, because he’s recently been wronged by a French Canadian and he thought I’d understand.

And I think all of these semi-meditative activities were an attempt to find some calm with which to start the week, but so far no go. It’s getting near midnight and the calm hasn’t come. I don’t know if it’s leftover adrenaline from yesterday or anxiety about the week or something bigger and less easy, but my empty room feels shaky and my rested head feels loud. I need a little reassurance, about nothing in particular. That at some point I won’t suck at my job. That at some point I will like some guy, and he will like me back, and we’ll both consider that a good thing. That at some point I’ll make my way through the pile of summer mail that’s been sitting in a drawer since September.

In the mean time, since there’s no one around to reassure me, what I can do for the moment is reassure you. Cause we’re all feeling kind of Marchy lately, wouldn’t you say? But I think with a few extra hours of sleep and a few deep breaths and a little extra chutzpah we can make it to the equinox, which – with both an x and a q – is what I’d call a worthy goal.

posted by tortaluga @ 12:02 AM