Since I disabled comments on here oh so long ago, I seem to forget every now and then, for good long spurts of time, that this is actually read. By real people, nonetheless. Sometimes by people who I don't actually know. It's not as if I'm living in some kind of dreamland where the wide world tubes are only within my head, but I think I tend to use this more as an actual surface for outpouring - maybe more like a journal than I should. Of course, once I'm reminded of this, I get self-conscious and nervous. Just for a bit, though - it's not enough to make me limit myself on my poorly written musings. Thus, the world goes on...
Today is my monthaversary of my move to Portland. After living in a place I abhorred for so long, living someplace I adore is quite amiable. And to top that off with the juxtaposition of lack of friends here, and it seems I'm miserable for all the wrong reasons. The misery, however, is slowly waning, and spending time with others is actually becoming fun and rather rewarding. As you can see (left), I'm official.
Here's the latest installment of the "writings from the tiny pieces of paper." I didn't bring any paper with me to the Boiler Room last night, so I borrowed a karaoke strip and wrote only on one side.
I want to remember the trips we took. Looking @ different landscapes & worrying about different things each time.
This could apply to so many facets of my life.
Short and sweet, ne? Also? Note to self: stop staying out so late on a school night. Really.
In other news, my birthday is in 2 days, actually just less than 27 hours from now. I'm not totally sure how I feel about it just yet. It feels important, but I don't know how or why. Updates soon.
