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We looked inside some of the posts by wheremypenat-blog and here's what we found interesting.
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Fun Fact
Total funding amounts to $125.3M.
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theres nothing that taking an edible and cleaning until you cant anymore cant fix
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I have been living in a cloud of artificial kitty litter dust lately. Its not often I catch a whiff, but its at odd enough moments and places to be demoralizing.
I am waiting to eat dinner. Waiting to feel the edible. Waiting to want to go out. Can't present Duckie ever have any fun?
A small part of my heart is healed by spinning my thoughts into a ramble for a real audience instead of the empty void of the internet earlier today. Either way, the purge is the important part. I STINK OF KITTY LITTER, PEOPLE!!! and then I can continue living in my kitty litter stink and fret a little less about it. Not to discount the importance of that step I took today. Sharing with real people is big- "real" meaning they know all the embarrassing, un-mysterious things there are to know about me. Yay Duckie.
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I love reading people's interpretations of what shows they're watching, what music they're listening to. But when you can find so many wildly varying takes, it feels like a peek into each anonymous user's life. This one was betrayed by a friend, and never got to see them get their karmic comeuppance. This one can't stay away from unhealthy partners. This one values honesty over everything. This one can forgive, even at great cost.
Some moments people feel so close, through the screen. I can see glimpses of both wounds and callouses. We think these are hidden deep within ourselves, but they are swimming in our minds and dripping off our tongues.
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got out before 1! did like 3 things. trying to do more now.
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ok had two bad urgent poops today but also i am being so picturesque rn forreal and theres more snow outside
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All around us are filtered pictures and highlight reels. We're warned against them regularly. But isn't a highlight reel such a lovely thing to have? Maybe we need it solely because we have so many moments that aren't pretty, charming, shareable.
Yesterday I made flatbreads. I oiled the bowl and let dough rise and kneaded and portioned. I heated the pan and stood in my dim kitchen and 60 seconds on this side and 60 seconds on that. And it was an absolute bummer of a day. I was unshowered and on day 3 of "trying" to adjust to a time change, which consisted of youtube and SATC until 4am. Sleeping until 12. Grogginess that was impossible to escape, despite doing nothing to fix it. I ate my flatbreads with yogurt sauce and a little salad. And that was the only thing I accomplished.
But the flatbreads were beautiful. And I have leftovers, a warm little reminder of the hours I spent doing something for myself.
And today I showered. Got dressed and looked cute. Watched the fluffiest snow clumps dance their way to earth, hoped one or two would slip through the screen of my open window.
I think a highlight reel can be a practice in gratitude. Weighing what might be the most delicious moments, what instants of peace and appreciation occurred, which one might be the jewel of the day. Remembering that taking a moment to look around, listen, enjoy, is as much a part of the life I envy as a job or apartment. The only thing keeping me from those sweet morsels is me not appreciating them.
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On days like this, where I don't talk to people, I have a hard time deciding whether my time is wasted. I am not as upset about it today as I normally am, since I thought I might poop my pants if I was away from a bathroom for too long. But part of me feels like the waste doesn't lie in not leaving, not working, or not socializing so much as it does in not affecting the world. So if I write this, then I will have put one thought out there. I'm participating! Even though I am not feeling well. That cheers me up some.
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I can picture her
She breezes through rooms, rooms that are endearingly cluttered and tastefully neglected, to grab keys in here, say hi to kitty in there, to curse and pivot back to the fridge when she remembers how long ago lunch was
And just as easily, she breezes out. She knows she is expected, and she is excited to go. She looks forward to the next thing, letting time carry her like a leaf from task to task, swirling in eddies and slowing in pools. She does not squirm her way into a creatures den, ungraciously mishaping the entrance in her haste! She does not scrabble desperately at the banks, clawing at mud, drowning!
When her head is submerged, I can not see her
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I can't leave my apartment
I can't get dressed. I can't decide. I can't clean. I can't plan.
Cancel, call in, rain check, ... nothing
I watch the sun move across my room, wondering how something can be "home" if there is no comfort
In a romantic world I imagine how soothing the hum of the refrigerator, the mountains in the window, the heap of beverages and indulgences piled within arms reach
Because if I can't enjoy my time stuck, then what??
Then what?
If I do not enjoy my missed days, then are they wasted?
There are far too many for that type of questioning
So I keep the heap close, and lighten it often. And wait for the wind to blow the other way.
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I have elected to live the life of a beetle; lonely, but shiny.
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