omnia_mutantur | "still there's many who've turned out their porch lights"

so sleepy as to nearly have made myself sick by trying to stay awake through a workday. apparently, visiting baystate somehow has the effect of making me fourteen times as tired as i would expect to be.

there's this thing that i'm not sure if i said outloud to light or not, but i don't want to ask him, because then if i haven't said it, i would have to. i'm guessing i didn't, but i'm wondering how long before i can just dispel the niggling suspicion that i did say it.

much like monday, due to circumstances beyond the invited's control, i have been cancelled upon. or most likely canceled upon.

i wish i had halloween plans beyond the dresden dolls. and while i don't think of myself as not being able to be separated from light, i've got really, really vivid memories of last halloween/samhain, and it makes me want to spend the analogous time this year in his presence, even if we're not doing the same thing as we did last year.

i'm contemplating sending everyone cookies year for the holiday season. you should tell me if you want some, on the off chance i'm under the impression you wouldn't.

my quilt arrived, and surpassed all my expectations, and now i want to paint my bedroom some version of deep red.

i finished Andrea Barrett's Voyage of the Narwhal, which picked up considerably about a third of the way through. I started DeWitt's Last Samurai, but i'm not sure how i feel about it yet, so i may abandon it in favor of hey nostradamos. i've banned myself from purchasing any new books
for the remainder of the calendar year, and then i'm going to have a sit down talk with myself wherein i justify retaining ownership of the books that i have but have still not gotten around to reading. like the collection of shorts by faulkner, which i would comfortably wager that i
will never, ever read, but have still not gotten rid of. but i've stuck to my resolve well, except for one fforde book, and even then, i didn't buy the fourth signed hardcover fforde, only the third, because it was out in paperback. (and cookbooks don't count as part of this ban)

a coworker told me something comforting, about something specific, but i've decided to try and apply it to the world at large, and see if it makes me anymore comfortable in my skin. sometimes i don't need to know why i want something, it's okay to just kind of want it. and i'm not talking about my bizarre fascination with guacamole doritos and carpet rakes, but larger things, like concepts of family and commitment, or my desire to learn, or personal things, like another tattoo.

i know that christmas lights are probably an infantile design choice, but i've been resisting the urge to hang all gazillion strands for weeks now, and i think my resolve has held up about as long as humanly possible. currently, there are only two strands up, both downstairs, one in the kitchen window and one in the dining room window, both tastefully solid color and seldom on. but i miss the multicolored lights that used to festoon the bookcases in my old apartment.