To be honest, I don’t have much to say. But that’s not why I’m writing.
Occasionally I feel like I have to put words on paper (or screen, as it were these days). Tonight was one of those nights. Fueled by wine (as the best writers are, of course), I found myself opening WordPress for the first time in weeks, not really sure what to talk about, but feeling like I just had to get back here.
I’ve been having a rough few weeks. Lots of changes at work have made it pretty stressful. I feel like I suck at my job. I’m being far too hard on myself, I know. But the days I’ve cried in or around the office over recently have outnumbered the days I haven’t, and I don’t know what to do about it. When I’m at events – when I’m making things happen – I love my job more than anything else in the world. But lately… I don’t know. Since I came back from Denver, I’ve felt really restless. So far, I’m resisting that feeling. I know where that feeling gets me – it gets me to Greece, or quitting my job and going to school. I’m out of stalling tactics. I’m 33 years old. I can’t make another life-changing decision. I need to calm myself down.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Other things I’m telling myself these days:
Really big fan of a few Spotify updates: the Spotify Run feature is potentially life-changing, although I haven’t quite figured out which of their genres I like to run to most yet. And the Discover Weekly playlist that appeared today was spot on.
Somewhat related, last week, as my book club was discussing “All The Light We Cannot See,” I was the only one who said if I had to choose, I’d rather be blind than deaf. Because music. (Really good book, btw.)
My new first date question is “what would your walk up song be if you were a baseball player?” Mine would be “Lose Yourself.” I know it’s probably cliched, but that song pumps me up every damn time.
Related, the guy from Denver via Dallas is still kind of sort of in the picture. Maybe. I haven’t actually talked to him in a few weeks, but there have been a few texts checking in here and there. Which makes me think, “well, he’s halfway across the country, and he’s still thinking about me, so this is good.” Right? Am I reaching here? I am probably reaching here. Or maybe I’m still waiting for him to answer my original first date question. (If you could’ve seen any sports event live, what would it be? Any answer other than the Miracle on Ice is wrong.)
Mr. Robot is pretty great, and it has significantly improved my summer entertainment situation.
Every album there’s at least one Taylor Swift song I end up genuinely liking. This album has produced two, and I hate Taylor Swift for doing that to me. Leave me alone already.
This weekend I attended a wedding that was beautiful and heartfelt and completely without the bullshit that many other weddings have. It made me happy and hopeful and optimistic for second chances.
I’m sick of summer already. Pumpkin spice lattes, where are you?
I’m going to be more diligent about writing here. Or maybe I’ll tackle one of those book ideas in my head – because all I can think as I’m reading my current book is “I can write much, much better prose than this.”