Confessions to Make.

I have a confession.
I keep starting to write things and then not liking them, so I don't finish the post.

I keep wanting to talk about things - the stresses of my job, the contentment of my relationship, the relatable things those I love are going through - and I get about two paragraphs in, and can't turn it into a cohesive essay about anything & I get discouraged and delete whatever has been written. I have had a huge case of writer's block in the new year, and I can't seem to beat it.

A few examples:

Jim got me a new laptop for my birthday. This one has a fully functioning 'L' Key.

Sometimes I cry when I pet Kat Moss because it was just the two of us for so long, I feel like we're a true Duo, and she's seen me through the hardest of times as well as the best.

I think I give really good dating advice.

Apartment F is fucking nuts a bit looney; with so much distance between him and that relationship, I now know that he is everything I thought of him, but worse.
The kind of worse you only see with retrospect's 20/20 vision.

I've been reading more. A lot, actually.

I hatefuck watching Girls. I really don't like it, but then inevitably end up I watching it, hating it the whole time. Except for that episode where she stays with the handsome man in the Brownstone. I loved that one. All the rest of 'em though, make me want to take a cleansing shower. And I have theories why - which range from 'I simply don't like it' to 'As a society we are taught that women who are not conventionally beautiful (or even pretty at all) do not deserve love'.

Speaking of retrospect, I suspect that's the only view of the world that my own sense of self awareness can see.

I was terrified that I 'went back on my word' about so many things I said or wrote since I was single. I did, in fact. But I have forgiven myself, and allowed myself to enjoy having a home, a partner, and few less friends because I am healthier, happier and whole.

I want to be married.

I have always known that I function better in a world with external structure; which is why I am so happy now. But that, initofitself, makes me insecure, because I wish that I had the autonomy to be successful in creating - and thriving - within myself & my own internal sense of structure. I don't.

I am not friends with Goldi or Beauty anymore. I'm waiting for someone to ask why (no I'm not, actually) because the best poetic answer I can come up with is, 'I imagine I became very exhausting to be friends with.'

I'm very midly obsessed with Reed Krakoff.

That being said, I am grateful for my friendship with My Best Friend in San Francisco, and in our entire lives we have never been closer.

My aesthetic has changed quite drastically - with trend, job, osmosis and age. Think: fewer peace signs and more peplums. More Miu Miu, less Blue Life.

I'm cooking again, and for the first time in my adult life, I am open to the bougie Farmer's Market, locally sourced, clean food, organic mumbo jumbo I eschewed for so long, as it seemed like too slippery a slope into 400 calories a day of juices and maybe some prunes to wash it down. That fear was apparently too slippery of a slope itself, because it wasn't & I love it. Admittedly, that may have more to do with the quality of Instagram photo it affords, but really? Who cares?

These are all things I have wanted to write about, but haven't had the creative energy to ruminate on. With job, and an actual life that I enjoy just experiencing, and not necessarily dissecting every detail of (or if I do, I tend to do it ad nauseam to Jim, who is a very good listener).

Though, I do try and keep the I Want To Be Marrieds to a minimum.