I'm just not a cat person.

I learned that this week. With the most precious, sweetest, friendliest kitten ready and willing to adopt me, I only kept her for a night before finally admitting to myself that through and through, I am a dog person. If a pound-and-a-half of pure gray kitten softness can't win me over, there's not much hope that it'll ever happen. At least I know that I'll never be the crazy cat lady, right?

This week's other lessons include the rediscovery that a bit of yoga each day is essential and addicting (how did I walk away from it for so many years?), that writing letters I'll never send (while cliche) is an extremely effective way to begin moving on, and that my new Brita filter is one of the best $2o I've spent in a while (I mean, clean cold water on demand? In the weeks before I give in and turn on my ac, this is priceless!)

I've been so preoccupied with my circumstances, my responsibilities, and just "getting through the week" lately that I've lost focus. My goal for the upcoming summer months is to regain the focus I once had for my future, whatever that turns out to mean. But even more than that, I am trying to focus on the numerous things in my life I currently take for granted: the way the moonlight pools around my pillow on clear nights, the easy jokes with my favorite coffee shop server, how my hair shines shines shines as I drive - sunroof open - under a canopy of tall oaks on my way to the water...

Please God let it rain again tonight.

i'm so close to remembering why i love what i love that one more gentle nudge in the form of a 5 a.m. downpour would surely bring me back...

(more posts, of a less-vague nature, to come soon. cross my heart.)

A little help?

Untie my brain that it may be drop kicked into clarity;
fuse open my eyes that they may always see;
unclench my heart that it may absorb the incoming;
reprimand my negotiator for serving negativity over easy,
like an elegant Sunday brunch.*

(I've always been hopeless when it comes to making decisions)

* Susan Mrosek, Leaks

I never by accident. I only on purpose.

The scene:

I'm sitting cross-legged next to my window on my living room floor, sipping champagne and craning my neck to hold my tiny cell phone to my ear without unplugging it from the wall charger for fear it will die in 2 seconds (which it constantly does), while a robotic woman from Time Warner Cable exclaims repeatedly (for 24 minutes, to be exact),
"Turbo charge your Road Runner!!"
"Who's everyone's favorite Ogre?!?!?!!!!!!"
"Another great idea from Time Warner Cable!!! Caller ID on your TV!! Now you can see who's calling without getting up from your couch!!!!!!!!" (Seriously. That's their great idea.)

The exclamation marks are audible. It's a bit disgusting. And I endure 4 transfers to different departments before I am connected to the right person for the big, complicated job of securing my wireless network, which takes approximately 2 minutes with a nice boy who speaks with the normal, human amount of exclamation marks. All the people in my building will probably hate me now for taking away the gift of free internet. But at least now I'm not constantly worried someone is stealing my music, pictures, personal information, and soul.

My New Year is off to a....well, a start. Despite my persistent cough and the recent spider issue in my apartment, I feel just grand. I'm finally content here, or at least I'm getting there. I think this has a lot to do with having goals and challenging myself to more than the routine in which I had easily fallen. I'm reading 6 books, all different and lovely and I switch them out as often as one might switch the channels on a television. I'm contemplating grad school in a more serious way, and beginning to prepare for the GRE. I'm also pursuing a new volunteer opportunity, disciplining myself to write daily, drinking water more, eating out less, and taking care of all the little things I've put off for the past months, like calling Time Warner Cable....Check.

...some invisible star had risen to eclipse the sun and release the coldness of space.
M. Fusco

Stay warm out there.

I like happiness. Do you like happiness, too?

Listening to my ipod at work is distracting in a necessary way. It almost makes folding over 200 letters and stuffing envelopes poetic. Almost.

On days like today when almost all the leaves have fallen off the trees and the air is mild while the sun blinds city drivers and I sit in front of a computer in a windowless room, suffocating with lack of sleep and inspiration, I wonder if I've already settled. Maybe I needed to understand myself in this realm in order to leave it and move on. But for now it's an uncomfortable challenge, so I'm all in. I know can do this. I just hope I can do it and be happy at the same time.

I could use a good laugh. Give me a tall mug of coffee and a long conversation anytime. I need to stop eating so badly and spending so much time on my hair. I need to sit in the sunshine and eat sliced apples and be ok with being alone for awhile.

I want days and weeks to focus on writing one precious truth that touches everyone who reads it in a place they had forgotten about and leads to good and purposeful action. The other day I was feeling particularly uninspired, and met an older Irish man in the coffee shop who told me that it's better to be a bad writer than to not write at all. He admitted that most of his writing is completely awful. And then he shared with me one of his published novels that was for sale in the shop. Mmm. Bad writing it is.