It's autumn, and new things are happening. Not exactly the things I want, but good things, things that might get me to what I want. Maybe.
This is the time of year when everything seems more possible. I suppose spring feels that way, but autumn has more resonance of beginnings for me - echoes of a new school year, echoes of moving to Chicago, echoes of shaking off the excess and getting down to business.
I think I am the one in my own way. I am going to try to get out of it. I don't want to feel bitter or untalented or wasted, and I think I am the only person who can either escape that, rise above it, or just change my life back to feeling how I felt once - the luckiest person ever, with all of life's opportunities ahead.
And I should stretch more.
I'm listening to Chaka Khan sing, "Tell Me Something Good" and it IS. She is the living embodiment of sex and glory, and you just want to tackle the nearest person and take their clothes off. Slowly.
I keep getting opportunities that, if I could land them, would change everything for the better. And so far, I don't land them. But then more come along. And I don't land those either, but then a few more swan by. Law of averages, something has to stick, right? One of them will come through eventually?
I wrote an image down the other day: a box of old silverware, mostly forks. And I like it. I like thinking about that box. I like thinking that everyone stole the spoons and melted the knives down for jewelry, and there those forks are, hogging that box, finally it's all about them. Hurrah!
I have to get better at enjoying NOT being perfect. How do you enjoy the music if you're worried about how your dancing looks?
