"Comparison is the killer of creativity." I read that once and it makes sense, though it hasn't fully translated into action. I'm certainly no killer and least of all of myself, you'd hope. This life is as it is, as it should be, even. Strangely enough I've been thinking lately how there was a time I dreamed of living in Chicago with a mini cooper and boston terrier, working at some socially progressive organization. That was my dream, the fantasy of the day. But here I am, about to move into yet another home in this lovely city, with an albeit, non-bostonian, feisty cat, but driving a silver hatchback and doing the most important work in healthcare I can think of. Funny and heartwarming how those dreams maybe do come true. As if, if you aim it, they will come. Here I am, with the perspective that perhaps I am exactly as I should be. That is that, I suppose.
I bought pajamas covered in smiling vegetables that read "Turnip the Beet" that made me giggle in the store, seemed like a good investment. Smile investments. Also, I hope to find more energy, it seems to have run amok these days. To cook and dream and exist a bit bigger. My sinuses feel a bit rowdy these days, hope to prevent full-blown infection. sniffle sniffle snort snort.
Anxious about breaking out of after-work habit of going home, but looking forward to seeing a beautiful soul. Hoping for much needed soul-relating chats.
Wednesday, you're not so bad.
