There’s nothing like a sense of accomplishment to dull previous feelings of extreme frustration, hopelessness and volatile anger. I spent the day with my parents, let’s just start with that. I love them dearly, but after almost twelve hours of making decisions together, such as which wall to paint/not paint, in what order to assemble furniture and whether or not to get egg rolls with the take-out, I’m glad to be alone, in my freshly painted room, cuddled up with my newly acquired and nameless stray kitten.
Sometimes just breathing feels amazing. When I’m high I sometimes forget to breathe. And then I start feeling all anxious and light headed until I remember to take a big, deep breath. I don’t mean just a mindless inhale. I have to connect my breathing mentally, as if I’m acknowledging the breath and following where it’s going to. It helps bring me back down to earth, get me out of my head, put me back in the room I’m in. Which currently is a shabby chic, baby pink.
I’m back at school. Well, back in Philly at least. Classes start Monday but I’m, for the first time, not sweating it. I feel like I’m in a very good place. That’s not to say I have a lick of what the hell I’m doing with my life figured out, just that I’m in a direction that I feel like may eventually lead to me being successful and, gasp!, happy.
I really needed my own space. I have my own room now, which has it’s own bathroom, hard “wood” floors, and enough space for me to make up and try out several new dance moves. There aren’t bars on my window, however, which considering my North Philly hood surroundings will probably keep me up a few nights.
My Korean guy friends live above me with a white kid who sells weed. Which is convenient.
I can’t wait to get this room done. I work really, really, really hard when I want something.