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Happy Leap Day!
Feb. 29th, 2008 08:14 pmI celebrated by telling Mr. TBH to go take a flying leap.
Okay, slight exaggeration. But I did send him an email regarding the project we're still involved in together and told him to quit treating me like an ex-girlfriend and start treating me like a collaborator. We shall see how he responds.
I feel so fucking amazing. Of course, the moment I write that, that nasty little beast in the back of my brain insists that I'm not completely happy, but I'm getting better at ignoring it until it goes away. Because once you ignore it, it does go away--it's only when you argue with it or grapple with it that it becomes larger and more substantial.
I cast this burden on the Christ within, and go free. I picked that line up from Florence Scovel Shinn, and I gave it a try when I recently found myself still brooding over Mr. TBH. And within days, the burden has been lifted, and I'm free.
I'll have to remember that one.
So, last night, I went to Outwrite bookstore for the launch party for Limp Wrist, an online literary magazine started by Dustin Brookshire, the nice lad who runs those monthly poetry workshop gigs that I'd been going to. Circumstances forced him to do without for a couple of months, but he's eager to get going again. It was a nice time--as I said in yesterday's entry, it was downright refreshing to hear nonstop good poems for a change. (I still go to Java Monkey, but being an open mike, it's a little more hit and miss.)
I was inspired enough to launch my writing blog (see previous entry) and we'll see what comes of it.
A few days ago, I got in touch with my old therapist--the one who co-facilitated the group therapy sessions I was in yay those many years ago. I need her to write a sort of Note From My Doctor to send to the insurance company with my appeal to get the pre-existing condition crap knocked off of my premium. She was glad to offer to do so and she remarked that she barely recognized my voice, because I sounded so much livelier than I did when I was seeing her. That was good to hear.
I'm going to London in three weeks. Holy crap!
I'm going to have some dinner and see if there's anything worth checking out tonight.
Today I took pleasure in having a bit of a lie-down after work and not feeling guilty about it.
Today I learned it takes my dishwasher about an hour to cycle through the running water bits. (I never bothered to time it until now.)
Okay, slight exaggeration. But I did send him an email regarding the project we're still involved in together and told him to quit treating me like an ex-girlfriend and start treating me like a collaborator. We shall see how he responds.
I feel so fucking amazing. Of course, the moment I write that, that nasty little beast in the back of my brain insists that I'm not completely happy, but I'm getting better at ignoring it until it goes away. Because once you ignore it, it does go away--it's only when you argue with it or grapple with it that it becomes larger and more substantial.
I cast this burden on the Christ within, and go free. I picked that line up from Florence Scovel Shinn, and I gave it a try when I recently found myself still brooding over Mr. TBH. And within days, the burden has been lifted, and I'm free.
I'll have to remember that one.
So, last night, I went to Outwrite bookstore for the launch party for Limp Wrist, an online literary magazine started by Dustin Brookshire, the nice lad who runs those monthly poetry workshop gigs that I'd been going to. Circumstances forced him to do without for a couple of months, but he's eager to get going again. It was a nice time--as I said in yesterday's entry, it was downright refreshing to hear nonstop good poems for a change. (I still go to Java Monkey, but being an open mike, it's a little more hit and miss.)
I was inspired enough to launch my writing blog (see previous entry) and we'll see what comes of it.
A few days ago, I got in touch with my old therapist--the one who co-facilitated the group therapy sessions I was in yay those many years ago. I need her to write a sort of Note From My Doctor to send to the insurance company with my appeal to get the pre-existing condition crap knocked off of my premium. She was glad to offer to do so and she remarked that she barely recognized my voice, because I sounded so much livelier than I did when I was seeing her. That was good to hear.
I'm going to London in three weeks. Holy crap!
I'm going to have some dinner and see if there's anything worth checking out tonight.
Today I took pleasure in having a bit of a lie-down after work and not feeling guilty about it.
Today I learned it takes my dishwasher about an hour to cycle through the running water bits. (I never bothered to time it until now.)
