Almost as if his body had been watching the clock, it was exactly a day after he turned fifty-five years old that John Watson's body began doing the thing he says it is not doing and even if it is – which it's not – it's for a very good reason, so there Mr Consulting Genius, so fucking there.
Just sent the note to my superior. When he responds and releases me, I will close this chapter fully. I don’t plan to give up my vows of Justice, Tenderness, Humility, and Contemplation, but I can’t do it within the context of any Christianity in the US anymore. RIP to GP+XPty.
how the temperature of the chocolate on the counter changes quick
how the apartment complexes stand tall all lined up on the sidewalk after a storm
how the afternoon mist is the best for walks but my glasses fog up
how i sleep and i wake and i don’t go to school for almost a year
but the building still looks exactly the same
a permanence of sorts or maybe just added pressure
for the aftertaste of a memory will linger on far longer than the memory itself:
the way i miss the chalkboards but not the too-small desks
the way i miss the candy i would carry in my coat pocket
the way i remember the sound of the hallway bustle
yet i have forgotten the feeling of the press of bodies in that seething mass
of students breathing out of sync
how easy it is to forget what you never thought you’d have to remember
how easy it is to miss the window of time to properly temper
the chocolate still on the kitchen counter after the rain
note: hi everyone. this is vae. this is the first post for my new series (and the first one?) on the blog. i try to color every moment, to see it from other perspectives and to love more. that's why i want to make the little things big. one thing i've learned lately(in a painful way) is that i have to enjoy things as long as i have them. nothing is permanent. in this "series" i will post pictures taken by me from my daily life. i don't know how often i will do it or if at least someone cares about its existence. i want to let my regrets go.
how would u describe yourself if you were an outsider observing you?
Interesting proposition, brethren anon. I'd say it depends on the setting one was observing me in. A lot of my outward personality, at least in real life, attunes to the situation and people I find myself around.
I could tell you what others first impressions of me were, but that's not your question. Also, I'm generally on friendly terms with all those I've asked about myself to, so whatever they said would probably be biased.
Then again, whatever I say is biased too.
So let's go with the common denominators one would find in myself regardless of setting.
If you're really making a point to observe me, then you might notice:
In terms of physical observation; I cross my legs and arch my foot when I sit so they make a smooth line. I rest my hand on my chin a lot, kind of cupping one side of my face. I repeatedly try to fix my posture into choir stance. Every five seconds or so you'll see me fidget/twirl the tendrils of hair I keep out in front of my face so they stay curly.
In terms of social/character observation: I'm decently (if not overly) polite. I match vernacular when speaking to someone, but you'll see me use some old saying/comparison known but not typically used in conversation. I'm pretty quiet around people I don't know, so I prefer to pay attention in a conversation; so much to the point where people think I've been involved in it, but really I haven't said a word.
Oh, and I put way too much effort into things that don't require much. Like this answer to your question.
Which is really a wonderful one, at that. Thank you for asking!
Last night, while I was reading to the kids, my eyes started to lose focus like they do before I see migraine auras. My head started to hurt before the auras even started, which meant it was going to be a really bad one. I took some medicine, put on a forehead patch, and then did something I haven’t done since college - I took some NyQuil.
The NyQuil did the job, I slept through the migraine. I woke up ten hours later with that all too familiar head full of cement feeling that I get post-migraine. I was still exhausted, like my body had been through something, but at least I slept through the pain.
Anyway, baby girl woke me up at 6am on the dot. She did her marathon nursing session of the morning. I showered, bathed the girls, made a double batch buttermilk waffles and macerated strawberries for everyone for breakfast, and cleaned the kitchen.
Yesterday four of the kids had dentist appointments, one kid had speech therapy, and I had physical therapy, so we definitely did not finish homeschool. There was a ton of one-on-one stuff left to do, so after breakfast I sat down to work with the boys, and didn’t finish up until 2:30. Then I worked on preparing next week’s materials for 90 minutes, and spent 90 minutes after that baking cookies to use up some egg yolks I had languishing in the fridge. Dinner, more prep work, and now bedtime routines, I’m nursing the toddler down as I type this.
I know future weekday me will be incredibly glad for all the work I’ve put into finishing up on time and preparing for the upcoming week. But current weekend me is salty from working through a post-migraine day and is ready to sit on the couch with Ted Lasso and a seltzer.
the folding chairs were left out for months after
the family reunion. so we all had dinner together.
so we talked about the same things and rehashed
our usual arguments. sure. listen, the chairs are
collecting dust, can you clean them up and put them
away? i’m tired of the house being a mess, i don’t care
if the closet is full or if you’re hearing their voices even
though the funeral was two thursdays ago. i don’t want
to hear it. dust the bookshelves while you’re at it, will you?
no point in arguing, i’m going back to sleep. be quieter
puttering around first thing in the morning, honestly,
can’t you sing loudly when no one else is home? you’d
shower much faster if you didn’t make it into some
broadway production, jesus christ. i don’t know what
you mean when you say i’m always falling for the gambler’s
fallacy and frankly you know i couldn’t care less. why won’t
you just take your wins when you can? why don’t you just
beat me at blackjack and go? why can’t you ever follow
instructions without immediately talking back to me? the house
is a sty. use your eyes. it better be clean when i wake up.
Obećavam ti da kad budemo slušali muziku, kada bude jedna slušalica u tvom uhu, a druga u mom, da ću ti dati da pustiš pjesmu koju god ti želiš... makar dobro znala da ne volim tu pjesmu. Što se tiče mojih dukserica, ne trebam ti ni davati obećanje jer imam osjećaj da će ionako pola mog ormara kod tebe završiti...