January 23, 2020, 11:40 am
It’s Thursday, the sun is out and a plane is flying overhead. I’ve had too much coffee and not enough water. I ate leftover squash casserole for breakfast and right now I wish I had more because it was that good. I need to run errands but my hair is wet and I’m trying to decide if I should dry it or ponytail it up and this might be the hardest decision I have to make today. Which is nice? Or maybe something else? I’m not sure.
Unsure is where I land most often these days. I’m not angsty or sad. I’m not full of ideas or motion like I usually am. It’s a weird season, one I should explore with my words because that is what I do but also? I’m sort of sick of myself and all the words.
Some things I’m noodling on: What is real? What do I want? Who am I really? Where am I going? How shall I get there?