Sunday, November 26, 2006
I can’t just keep reporting on how much I am overworking, and am still enjoying it. That would even get old in a diary. But that’s really all there is to say. I finally took 4 ½ days off and spent them at my parents’ in Joshua Tree, though. I got to see a few beautiful sunsets, I got to play with the dog, had Thanksgiving dinner with my family, and got to fall asleep on the couch, watching Nacho Libre with my dad. I got to sit on Asia and follow Ian and Sam around threateningly with a camera. I took pics with Angela, sat on my mom too, and practiced using bullwhips with my dad (he’s pretty good!). I got to have coffee with Jeannie and talk about wedding plans. It was a nice long weekend and I got home this afternoon, fully recharged. Tomorrow is back to work and that’s just fine. I would otherwise to sit in my room all day listening to Bright Eyes and painting my toenails black, with my dyed black hair, taking pictures of myself with my hair in my face, wearing a serious expression. That might get old. It might not though.
I used to write every single day, even if there was nothing to report, because there was enough going on in my head to fill several pages at any given time. I kept a journal, and it was a staple part of who I was. For a while my favorite place to write was at this Laundromat in Long Beach, while doing my laundry. I would sit on the washing machine and write in a tablet, and the sounds of the machine would drown out the sounds of people around me, and the smell of fabric softener would permeate the air. I think at that time I had all these emotional and idealistic ideas about the future and about how life was supposed to feel. Sometimes I miss it, the optimism and getting completely caught up in an emotion, and the idea of how life was supposed to feel and what we were supposed to look fwd to. I bet I did a lot of complaining, too. So here I am a lot further down the road, and I’m thinking that I should have gone to business school instead of taking all those art classes. But if I had chosen another major, I might have really wished I had followed my heart and taken art classes. So there you go. Maybe I am at a job that I love, completely by accident.
Anyway, here’s a picture of the view from the living room window that Max and I had on Wednesday night. I’m pretty sure I had a similar look on my face.