...I won't hide from that part of me that knows as hard as things have been with my day job, dealing with that's been easier for me to face than writing...
...I've gained a stupid amount of weight from comfort-fooding and boozing to sop up the pain. Now I'm even more insecure, unhealthy, and uncomfortable. That's bullshit...
...I've managed to resist smoking. Yay, small victories...
...I haven't managed to resist coke. Diet Coke, that is. Just for the taste of it. God help me, I'm addicted to the stuff. It's just so fucking refreshing, you know???
...endeavoring to self-medicate in a healthier way, I signed up for a writing course with these cats here in the city, Gotham Writers. No, not just 'cause they've got "Goth" in their name. Though that was, I'll admit, a strong inducement. First class was April 13: did more writing in it than I had in AGES. Procrastinated on the homework assignment till Sunday night (for the April 20 class) and only just managed to churn something out. Ah well. Baby steps to self-actualization...
...went to a tea-leaf reader recently who told me, among other things, that something evil attached itself to me a loooong time ago. Which is pretty fucking freaky but not wholly unexpected...
...she also advised that my navel and throat chakras were blocked but I could easily sort them out myself. I picked up a book on the subject but am having a tough time getting through some of the more academic stuff 'cause I keep thinking to myself, "Chakra-Khan, let me rock you, let me rock you, Chakra-Khan. Let me rock you, that's all I wanna do, Chakra-Khan." 'Cause that is my maturity level at 44, folks...
...I miss you. I miss the Blogosphere. I miss creating. I miss me. Don't call this a comeback, because I'm not sure I'm ready to really engage with the world again. Perhaps the best I'll ever manage is poking my head in to say howdy, now and again. But I want to wake up. I think...
