I know I'm procrastinating when I feel an overwhemlming desire to do dishes or I start messing with my stylesheets to the point of having to research code. So I've put down both the sponge and the Webmonkey long enough to come here and write. Though please take a moment to scroll over some links like this one and witness some pure HTML wizardry.
I've been lamenting the ease with which communication gets dropped between friends just through relocation. I know the time difference is an obstacle, as is the "after 7:00" cell phone rate change (my 7:00 is 10:00 on the East Coast, which may or may not be too late to initiate a potentially-long conversation, depending on one's daily wine/caffeine ingesetion). I am guilty of falling out of touch. I get these beautiful emails from people that I want to respond to, or I have the idea to write them, but then I'm waiting for the Perfect Time when I have hours to write and endless Inspiration and I won't dump my occasional negative crap on someone else's head because I hate my job or I lost my wallet with my last $30 in it (read as: today). That time never comes. People have bad days. People lose their wallets. Everyone has a gripe, to one degree or another, with their job. As much as I'd like to believe it, my life is not so groundbreaking and original. So I should just sit down and write the email that tells the truth, that tells the person I think of them every day, that tells them I want to feed this friendship -- 3,000 miles between us or not.
Needing to be Perfect and Original and Happy is probably the main reason I have not been writing publicly for the past few weeks. I want to. But I also want to be this idealized version of myself. Waking up shiny, working hard, living deeply, immersed in creation, keeping track of where my wallet is.
Speaking of wallet, I'm more poor right now than I have ever been in my life, and it's kind of scary. I'd probably have to take to sneaking a lot more of the catering leftovers than I have been if it weren't for The Boy, who keeps a consistent supply of bananas on the counter and pasta in the cupboard. And also has free laundry in his house. It's a temporary state, moving having drained my savings and having my own apartment as opposed to sharing it and splitting expenses with two other people. Plus, Kobie has been eating like an absolute pig and his little bunny belly is insatiable for organic carrots like I've never seen before in my life. I find myself doling out thousands of dollars a month just to keep his little gopher lifestyle afloat. Endless scoops of banana chips, yogurt drops, and collard greens. He's going to have to get a job soon if he wants to keep this up.
My white suburban brush with "poverty" is laughable and not keeping me up nights, but I could use a new pair of corderoys and some fresh pillowcases.
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