That’s the annoying part. I lie in bed at night looking at the window pushing air through and playing with the drapes. I get up an stare at the two trees behind the apartment building, all the grey of washington still present at 1 or 2 am, mixed with a yellow streetlight. I stay up and I just think. Sometimes wish to write something down, or to doodle something away, but just think. And it’s true, I don’t really want to go to sleep.
I’m looking for a second job, I hope I can get one on the top of the hill next to the other. I have some saving I want to do, amongst other things. Decided to take a pre req at the community college in January for sewing and pattern making. I got to figure out if it’s something I like. Put out my application for a Washington State Teacher’s license, whenever that comes back I will apply for a district substitute and see about that too. I hate being at the butt-end of all these plans. Who can believe me?
Ky says if I just work on this flower it will get done, oh yeah wise guy? I’m so sick of it, that tonight I’m going to work on it again, while blasting Madonna and Kylie Monogue. They seem to be the only ones who can push me.
I don’t know what work I really enjoy doing out of all work. I know I need to keep my hands busy in life, which is why I’ve really liked the cooking jobs I’ve gotten in the past, and that I like being around people. And that kids are pretty cool. And that no matter where I am in life, the moment I let myself think about an outfit and color and the person I’d be dressing, my mind usually takes off on an adventure wonderland of the composition of clothes. Last night I thought up the perfect suit for my madre, and that she would look great in a burnt sienna color mixed with a red or white. So, we’ll see. I’m sick of painting in general, the pressure there is just so annoying. I’m supposed to paint, I’m supposed to be interested in composition on a canvas. I’m supposed to be interested in other artists. The only artist I’m interested in is Oscar De La Renta, and how on earth he thought of this certain fabric mixed with that one print I saw in Nordstroms, and how I’d really like to go touch it again.
I’ve been watching a lot of Sex and the City with Ky. I keep seeing different conversations I’ve had with Mary going on between Carrie and Miranda. So far I think I more closely resemble Miranda, because she’s the one always calling Carrie saying things like, “I just ate cake out of the garbage,” or “I’m going to die alone and my cat will eat my face,” and Carrie (or Mary) says, “You’re going to be fineee.” But sometimes we switch roles because Carrie always makes a joke out of situations, and I think I’m pretty good at cheering Mare up when people around her are full of silliness.
Anyways, lets all hop on a plane to New York, then we’ll swing round to my parents and have a glass of wine and talk about the crazy dogs as they run around the yard barking at nothing.