i furrowed my brow
who the f*&! is adding me as a friend on facebook?! Silly. Two glasses of riesling and i was rated R. Well maybe PG-13.

An acquaintance i knew from my high school days. "She is happily married." I thought and typed into my journal some 2,000 miles away from her.

ojala
Weeks of mail collecting on our kitchen table. I hadn't yet conceived of a way to organize it all, so it stayed where it was. I could imagine my older sister opening a new bag of Sunchips on her way to the TV, paying no mind to her postcard from Verizon, her catalog from IKEA, her pre-approved credit card, her free cruise to Alaska. Whole grain snacks were a higher priority.

I pulled my Pottery Barn catalog from the stack. Fuck you Pottery Barn. Your beechwood entryway bench, your perfectly pinstriped Sailor's cushion, your artisan beveled swivel mirrors, your framed frosted glass message board, your linen pinboard. Your resin conch shells and starfish.

Photographs of my living room, my bathroom, and my kitchen were in the pages of that catalog. Thousands of dollars away.

The trains got me home in a record 2 hours' time and I was angry. I devoured the fiction piece in the New Yorker before the first of three trains even came, and i was angry. I needed to pee like a racehorse 45 minutes away from home. I was bored with my magazine and now that i'm home, I'm hungry. And i'm still angry.

I can barely sit down to write this. My mosquito bites itch and i'm mad at them for being there.

What was the lesson to be learned? To sit and enjoy my training in patience? To understand and experience the art of delayed gratification? To not be so frugal about taking cabs home late at night? To learn that some things aren't worth saving my money for?

I wanted to kick the train when it got there, and i recognize the futility of spending my energy that way, but i wanted to do something about it.

i'm so angry.

Glass half
Well well well. Six months since the last post. The weather's much, much warmer. The snow boots have been stowed, the sweaters and scarves packed away.

Summer's here. August seems so very far away and June is taking her sweet time.Flip flops abound and i am ever thankful for this season's printed cottony tops.

Six months into what Cynthia and I call the year, and things are definitely looking up. For everyone and me, it seems. Sondra's married, Yvette's in love, Alex is newly transplanted, and my potted plants seem happy to be mine. I'm almost there. Becoming a fulltime photographer is so frustratingly close. It's only a matter of suns and moons.

Oh, the promises of summer.