hootenannie

It’s Wednesday, which some abominable person decided to dub “hump day.” For some unfathomable reason, this phrase caught on. This expression horrifies me to my core, and makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.Well then. Carry on.I am an INFJ. Again, if you do not know what that means, go here and…

I am convinced that the loss of hope is the worst feeling in the universe. I’m not saying that I have hit that rock-bottom hopelessness, but I feel like I’m tripping at every turn these days. I keep pulling myself back up, and giving myself a pep talk, and convincing myself that tomorrow is going…

Here I sit, my fingernails still drying, my teeth whitened, my legs shaved, my hair clean. It’s amazing the lengths of quality control women will go to, simply in order to feel presentable! Me – I go through phases. I’ll have a week where I wear heels every day, accessorize myself, curl my hair. Other…

Sometimes I grow weary of the balancing act of “being.” Life can be a circus, and with the amount that we juggle on a day-to-day basis, it’s a wonder that anyone is left standing. I often feel like I’m perched on one of those balance boards, constantly shifting and readjusting my weight, and when I…

Living alone might be taking its toll on my brain. This morning, as I was getting ready to fry an egg, it slipped from my hand and into the recycling bin, landing with a soft thud. My response? Diving into the bin, sifting through the trash, pulling out the egg, and asking it, “Did you…

Today is a day for doing things that need to be done. Sleeping in. Enjoying my morning coffee. A load of laundry. A sink of dishes. Errands. Taxes. Getting my life in order. (Notice how sleep and coffee are just as much necessities as doing my taxes. Priorities.) This day off from work has largely…

This is the birth, the commencement, the inception of my blog. I cannot promise that it will always be deep and meaningful, but I can promise that it will always be authentic. Wait, this is a public site… so… yeah, actually? It might be contrived sometimes. Annie Dillard writes, “We live half our waking lives…