i can’t believe it’s been nearly two years since i wrote here. several of you have encouraged me to get back to blogging, and i’ve been feeling it again myself; what a happy coincidence!
it’s perfectly fitting that my last entry was just before i started my new job. and here i am, almost two years in to the same gig, and more in love with it than even i expected.
what this does, though, this sense of contentment–is that i have less of a need to self-medicate through writing. when things are wonderful in my world, i write less. plain and simple. tortured artist is a slight exaggeration, but i understand that mentality more than i used to, how people can flourish creatively through adversity.
i think of plenty of things i’d like to write about all the time, both good and bad. but whereas before, during the first six years of blogging, i was unchallenged and unfulfilled at work which led to a well of creativity that i just HAD TO GET OUT, i am so fulfilled these days that i just haven’t carved out the time to write. beyond what i do at work, anyway.
so i’m challenging myself to write more. write it all. write even when i don’t feel like i have to write. just write for writing’s sake. and there are still plenty of places in my world that could benefit from some thought and attention.
gauntlet thrown. challenge accepted. hold me accountable, won’t you?
linking to my old blog in that previous post made me go visit it, and i totally miss cinnamon & arsenic! why did i change spaces? is it cool to go back? i don’t know the rules for things like this. discuss.
i know i wrote an entry on my previous blog about wanderlust. it was a while ago.
it’s gone beyond that. the only thing i could think of beyond sheer lustful lust is slut, which is conveniently made of the same letters. coincidence? maybe. clever? not really. is it the widmer talking? likely.
get. me. out. of. here.
j. crew and i were inseparable, circa 2007. their aesthetic was my aesthetic – feminine but classic, ruffles, chiffon, cashmere, everything i loved. when i look at them today, they’re almost unrecognizable – now they’re just somebody that i used to know. yeah, a few carryovers from that beloved relationship still hang in my closet. it’s like that ex-boyfriend’s t-shirt that you shamelessly kept, and why wouldn’t you? it still fit.
in high school, my boyfriend was calvin klein. i found my first pair of calvins at a thrift store, old label, fabulous, and i knew we’d be matched for life, like albatross. i still love him in that way that you love someone but aren’t IN LOVE with them. but he’s not really bringing it like he used to. it’s become a dispassionate affair.
the gap and i were besties when i was 14. childishly, their jeans (and their dream perfume) were everything i wanted. but as we grow up and leave childish things, i left them years ago and never looked back.
today i feel threadbare. it’s funny, actually, since i’m fitting into clothes better than i have in forever. but i don’t have that go-to brand that i love, so i don’t really look forward to shopping or rebuilding my wardrobe.
i’m facing another epic closet cleanout, and what will i find to fill that void? i just want to find something i love – something that fits me.
d’you ever feel like you’re spinning your wheels? sometimes i assume that i’m moving along, speeding by, and then all of a sudden it dawns on me that i’m simply spinning out and not really going anywhere.
other people do things. they have jobs they love. they’re parents. they travel a lot. take classes. i don’t really do anything.
angsty is normal when you’re teenaged. still kind of charming as a twentysomething. 32? not so much.
what am i waiting for? 32. wish i knew.