"she might fall but she'll never lie down"

exhausted out of time, out of mind, and the fledgling stages of the project which will soon get its veryownname, like Agnes, wakes me up in the middle of the night, thinking "Who said we'd rather have the iceberg than the ship?" and lying in bed, promising if i can't remember it in three minutes, i can wake up, grab my glasses and go online to find out. and then it's Bishop and i didn't have to open my eyes, but i roll over, and snuggle into a pillow that smells of light and sex and find tears leaking out, so hot to be uncomfortable on my skin.

i'm nauseous now, having tried to drink coffee for the first time in a number of months, hoping it would artificially snap me out of some of this funk. very, very bad idea. and work fills me again with rage, and it's eating me up to have this job, and i wish i could let go of all the pettiness, and not mind that my boss gives me attitude for leaving early friday, or that i'm reprimanded for following her instructions, because i didn't know that they were wrong.

conversely, i'm going to try to put more overtime in this week, and the upcoming weeks. i don't want february to be the sort of loss december and january were, financially. and i should curb my spending, food i don't really need and books, but i'm tempted to go to trader joe's tonight, because i'm really beginning to enjoy intermittent dinners,

we've decided to not go to DC with vacation, but lounge about new england, and i'm pleased. there are still a couple things i want to find, and i hope we do decide to stay in boston, because i think that will incline us to (a) relax more and (b) do more, if the two can exist simultaneously. and i want to find good falafel, and play with Atlantic, and...i want to spend less time waiting for my life, and more time living it.

it's not that life has begun with Light, I'm not that silly, i know everything that came before was also living. but i think that this is the next step, that i've actually figured out how to love, and the things that make me strong make me this fragile at the very same time. years and years ago, i referred to this time as a holding pattern of some sort, not knowing that history was teaching me slowly how to love, and the men and women who wandered in and out of my bed were teaching me other things, some good some bad, knowing only that this wasn't going to be it, and if it was, it was because i was chickening out. and back at the leeds button factory, harpsichord referred to this time as a rest cure.

i licked enough of my own wounds long enough, and maybe this is another sort of jumping off of a dam to find out if i can swim, and maybe this wasn't the brightest way to go about finding out about love, but i wouldn't trade it for anything except more of itself.

looking through history's friendspage, to find an lj name i'd forgotten, i found hands' lj, and left him a comment. and then i realized if you read my lj now, i sound like a fruit, and a basketcase. and remembering the episodes of firefly we watched this weekend are still making me giggle, aloud, to the consternation of my coworkers.

"And Kaylee, what the hell's goin' on in the engine room? Were there monkeys? Some terrifying space monkeys maybe got loose?"

"she might fall but she'll never lie down"

exhausted out of time, out of mind, and the fledgling stages of the project which will soon get its veryownname, like Agnes, wakes me up in the middle of the night, thinking "Who said we'd rather have the iceberg than the ship?" and lying in bed, promising if i can't remember it in three minutes, i can wake up, grab my glasses and go online to find out. and then it's Bishop and i didn't have to open my eyes, but i roll over, and snuggle into a pillow that smells of light and sex and find tears leaking out, so hot to be uncomfortable on my skin.

i'm nauseous now, having tried to drink coffee for the first time in a number of months, hoping it would artificially snap me out of some of this funk. very, very bad idea. and work fills me again with rage, and it's eating me up to have this job, and i wish i could let go of all the pettiness, and not mind that my boss gives me attitude for leaving early friday, or that i'm reprimanded for following her instructions, because i didn't know that they were wrong.

conversely, i'm going to try to put more overtime in this week, and the upcoming weeks. i don't want february to be the sort of loss december and january were, financially. and i should curb my spending, food i don't really need and books, but i'm tempted to go to trader joe's tonight, because i'm really beginning to enjoy intermittent dinners,

we've decided to not go to DC with vacation, but lounge about new england, and i'm pleased. there are still a couple things i want to find, and i hope we do decide to stay in boston, because i think that will incline us to (a) relax more and (b) do more, if the two can exist simultaneously. and i want to find good falafel, and play with Atlantic, and...i want to spend less time waiting for my life, and more time living it.

it's not that life has begun with Light, I'm not that silly, i know everything that came before was also living. but i think that this is the next step, that i've actually figured out how to love, and the things that make me strong make me this fragile at the very same time. years and years ago, i referred to this time as a holding pattern of some sort, not knowing that history was teaching me slowly how to love, and the men and women who wandered in and out of my bed were teaching me other things, some good some bad, knowing only that this wasn't going to be it, and if it was, it was because i was chickening out. and back at the leeds button factory, harpsichord referred to this time as a rest cure.

i licked enough of my own wounds long enough, and maybe this is another sort of jumping off of a dam to find out if i can swim, and maybe this wasn't the brightest way to go about finding out about love, but i wouldn't trade it for anything except more of itself.

looking through history's friendspage, to find an lj name i'd forgotten, i found hands' lj, and left him a comment. and then i realized if you read my lj now, i sound like a fruit, and a basketcase. and remembering the episodes of firefly we watched this weekend are still making me giggle, aloud, to the consternation of my coworkers.

"And Kaylee, what the hell's goin' on in the engine room? Were there monkeys? Some terrifying space monkeys maybe got loose?"