Tuesday, September 11, 2012

i don't understand...

Hello, darlings! It's late and I'm very tired, so this is going to be brief.  Just had some little tidbits floating around in my brain...hoping by writing them down, maybe I'll sleep better.

Being a woman in my (gulp)...oh, let's just stick with "in my 30's," shall we?...there is still so much about myself that I thought I'd have all figured out by now, and conversely, so much I thought I had figured out when I was younger that looks so much different from here.  So here are a few of those things:

I don't understand why I so often feel SO much sexier and prettier at night, when most of my makeup has worn off, and I'm in my standard uniform of jammie bottoms, a tank top, & a zip-up hoodie.  Something about my hair being just the right amount of dirty, the softness of my comfy clothes being so much nicer than most of my restrictive work clothes (beauty is pain & fashion is hard & all that, loves).  Maybe it's the invitation or promise of getting to be snuggled up in bed.  I don't get it at all.  Especially since, if I were to leave the house looking like this (I ain't too good for it, either), it would read less "sexy" and more "lazy college student" at best.  What gives?

I don't understand why, even if I can't think of anything that's truly stressing me out, even if the sometimes-throbbing pressure of being an adult lets up for a while, I still manage to be tense nearly all the time.  It feels like there's always something, even if it's just my sub-conscious gnawing on a thought not yet bubbled-up.  It's supremely frustrating not to be able to fully relax.

I don't understand why laying on my couch with my woobie, watching TV, is more appealing than nearly anything else I could be doing for that time.  Shopping is a close second, but the couch is definitely cheaper and usually more comfortable.  Incidentally, my woobie is a hand-made quilt I received as a gift from a student many years ago.  It's one of my favorite things.  I probably wouldn't try to save it if my house were on fire, but I would mourn its loss forever.

I don't understand insurance.

I don't understand willful ignorance.

I don't understand fishing shows.  Or hunting shows.

I don't understand why coffee is so amazing, but I know that it is.

I don't understand how my cat Rory can be such a total shit to everyone else, most especially the other cats, but be such a sweet, loving little monster to me.

I don't understand why it's so hard for me to get rid of magazines (just think of the potential art projects!!!)

And to wrap this nonsense up, I don't understand why I'm writing this when I could be snuggled up in bed with a good book.

So good night, loves, until next time.
Sleepily,
Lola

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