I want a dog.
The ticking clock is the only sound in the house. It’s cold. I put on some socks. The gingko trees are turning gold outside, and this makes me happy. Autumn makes me very happy.
Merely looking at something almost never causes change. Tourism is fun, but rarely transformative.
If it was easy, you would have already achieved the change you seek.
Change comes from new habits, from acting as if, from experiencing the inevitable discomfort of becoming.
Lately I’ve been catching up on My Mad Fat Diary and The Mindy Project. Aside from the coming-of-age entertainment (for the former) (and I suppose the latter as well, because even people in their thirties are still coming of age in many ways), and the banter that I look forward to at the end of each day, the two shows offer more than the laughter I hoped they would. This much shows aren’t needed to distract me from my post grad school interview nerves, but I can almost never resist a peek into the lives and minds of interesting characters.
Be warned: Spoiler alert.
These days I’ve been listening to Spotify radio stations of Andy Grammar’s Good To Be Alive, John Legend’s Everybody Knows, and Ella Henderson’s Ghost.
Twenty sixteen started out with breaking the one hundred thirty pound average weight (plus minus five, it settles on one twenty nine), relearning the novelty of gliding on ice, and feeling like the cool new kid that everybody wanted to get to know. It was clear and beautiful, like sunlit snowy days, and going to work feeling good about your clear, dewy skin. Keith Urban’s Somebody Like You. Buzzing, light energy.
But just around the corner was a sharp drop, and I fell. Predictably, I’m binge eating while watching Family Guy up to two in the morning. It’s been a terrible past few days, with the last straw being a phone call that was a welcome reality check, but emotionally exhausting (too exhausting) after a long day at work and class. I’m just tired these days, and needing to crawl into a shell and simply, be.