I want to blog tonight (just got out of work at the old restaurant) and I was wondering what I would blog about. I was recalling times, on the sled of tonight's after-work-cigarette, down here when I would clock out, wait for everyone else to finish, head over to one of the neighborhood bars and have a few beers with my crew. Or, at least, what was left of the crew / the few remaining brave who would be willing to postpone their ride home for a few beers longer.
I thought of how, for a moment in time, I would never have a plan but always "end up" somewhere. With someone. It was fun, of course! But holy hell, was I beat the next day. And I would wonder why I was so tired the next shift. Some of these nights I would stay out so late that I would arrive home finally at three in the morning! I am small and weak and am anything but a fighter: what business, exactly, do I have existing outside of safe walls after midnight? (None! That's what!)
At any rate: as I said in my previous blog; I am sure there are seasons to this kind of behavior. But for now I am happy that I have since reeled in the reigns.
I was about to begin this thought process / blog tonight when I noticed a draft in my cache:
I'm going to start this now and hopefully finish it later tonight when I - after declining the temptation of a free shifty - arrive home at a very reasonable hour.
I want more and more time in my apartment. Yes, the cold weather is a factor in this, but also: I just really like my home. It's a stupid little home and is lately a bit chilly for my liking (when it's not Bowser-Level hot. We'll get the hang of the heat this year, boys - just you wait!) but it is simple. I am in the least amount of trouble when I am minding my own business and let me tell you: I am never minding my own business more than when I am holed away in my silly little cave.
I have also (FINALLY) come to terms with the fact that: I am paying to live here, in this space. Why am I not spending any bloody time in it? There's so much stuff to do in here. And it's nearly all things that I like to do, as I am the only person who curated the space. Writing, reading, journaling, blogging, yoga-ing, cooking, baking, organizing, dancing, painting, sewing, solving puzzles, calling my mother, drinking coffee, eating good food, listening to good music / podcasts / youtube channels... sleeping! It's all here! What exactly am I running from? Fun?? A satisfying / good time with one of my favorite people (me)??
I always like looking back at my instagram/snapchat memories and at my old blog entries to see what I have forgotten. I lack my mother's photo albums, filled categorically with happy faces of friends and family at countless houses, apartments, yards and finished basements. I have moved countless times. Lord knows my partners have come and gone. I am who I have to recall my history: if I do not remember it, no one will. If I ever forget the way the blue tape wrapped around the heater in the main room. The way my street looked like something from a Park Avenue in a hand-drawn Disney film; better than it ever had a right to. The way the flowers dried once I taped the concert bouquet to the wall, around my Frida puzzle art.
This partial entry in blue: this is a precious little chunk of what I would like to remember.
More later. My favorite person is speaking to me.
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