It’s my first day of quitting smoking. It’s going poorly. I’m like a squirrel with rabies.
I foolishly applied for a job. It’s at the junior college bookstore. I’ve done a similar job before, but it was years ago now. What if I’m too old to work there? What if I’m too old to work anywhere? I truly don’t know. It’s a shitty feeling though, I can tell you that.
I’ve ordered both books I’m published in so far this year. I work hard writing, it’s nice to get a reward every once in a while.
It feels a bit irresponsible but well…I’m skipping the gun debate on here. It makes my body sick just thinking about the carnage. And I feel helpless like so many of us. Helpless, not hopeless. I have hope, I know millennials will change the whole picture one day. With Gen Z behind us, things will be overturned. It will take years, but I have hope for that picture.
It is pride month however which is nice. And if you couldn’t guess it, well, I’m bi. Yep, like what seems to be a lot of ladies now days, I was told it was bad, grew up, married a man, and I have an amazing life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But…if I did it all over…nah, I’d still pick David. If there was no David, there could be anyone. I don’t put structure around the possibility that I could love anyone. I got all flustered when a hot trans gentleman used to come into my old job. That’s what’s great about life, you can be with anyone. Even just last night I had a dream that I was talking to someone about Christina Ricci being our big crush.
Dreaming, putting the pieces together.
I literally just looked around my desk for my vape; like second nature. Fuck.
*Art by June Valentine Ruppe