I deferred the Cali schools; I'm taking chances on the NY waitlists, I'm working on my books (in theory), I am painting (in practice), I have a good paying job and I am working on being happy.
It feels good. It feels right.
And you know what? My apartment, which I love, which is warm and cool all at once, and in a garden and feels like a nice house? It's all mine right now. Which means I work when I want, I play when I want, and I sleep in my bed alone. I take up all the covers, I sleep askew, I wake when I want to, when I'm supposed to, and while I don't yet know how to dream, maybe I know a little bit more how to be.
It's Tuesday, and it's raining but lovely, and I'm no longer counting the days, I guess I'm just living them.
It may not be a corner turned, but it's a pretty good start.
Also, lots and lots of Crystal Light Lemonade and bare feet and brunches have helped. That and I stopped going on all dates that I thought I should.
Well one guy had a five year old child and works at the airport. I think the airport was worse than the rest.
I don't know how long I will be alone, but there is something to be said for being alone, and not having to reason why. No one demands my time, except me. It's kind of wonderful.
There's oil paint on my clothes and no one is complaining. When you're alone, no one complains at all. That, I think, is a plus.