But it was good to have a couple of days away from blogging. I haven't had much to talk about, other than my broken record litany of "broke/blind/broke/blind" and that gets awfully stale. (Oh, if my hair continues to fall out, I can add "bald" to the litany and make it a trifecta!)
In my time away from the Church of the Big Sky, I started drafting a more serious piece about my misgivings over a Hillary Clinton presidential candidacy, and I also pulled a few really old photos from my albums to share when I'm in scanning range tomorrow. In looking through my old photos, I recognized two things: 1)I haven't aged well; and 2)I have had some of the most hideous haircuts/styles in recorded history. This goes waaaay beyond the 80s uber-short hair, kids. I mean it. Sca-ry. (And since I don't want your eyes to melt like a Nazi in "Raiders of the Lost Ark" I'm not forcing those haircut photos on you, I promise.)
My birthday's coming up soon, and I'm feeling a bit melancholy about it. I'd hoped to have achieved more progress than I have at this point. This was supposed to be, to borrow a football term, a "building year" but instead, it's been thick with stumbling blocks and upheaval and brambles I haven't quite cleared. I am a walking disaster zone.
I need to find some momentum. I need a big kick in the pants. I need to become more focused on what I really want to do when I grow up.
And I need to spend some time at the ocean. I wish it wasn't quite so long a schlep to the shore from here. I just need some ocean time to clear my mind.
And a boyfriend.
I need one of those, too. (Dear god, do I ever!)
And a pony.
(Hey, I figured if I was getting into the realm of the impossible, might as well add the pony. A girl can dream, after all.)
Come to think of it, the pony's probably more realistic than the boyfriend at this point...