tgitheweekend

Got to visit with my family and get my share of baby hugs and drool, which makes me feel a little less guilty for being a terrible granddaughter and staying home to work tomorrow. Walking across the bridge, which I promised myself I'd do more often after strike, on such a beautiful day, is very calming. How can I be feeling so sorry for myself with the beautiful blue sky around me? Well, still a little down but my yoga teaching cousin had some very buoying words. And I'm a Fleshbot crush object. Aw. Still super psyched to get the hell out of here next weekend and gorge on free books, when I'm not writing my own. I did realize that all this hurt and drama can be turned into funny little passages in my book - like the irony of a girl sneaking into a guy's bathroom to copy down his address so she can send him a birthday present while meanwhile he's thinking "ew, how gross and awful that I slept with that cow, how fucking soon can I get rid of her?" You know, cheery stuff like that - I'll make it funny and lighthearted in the book, don't worry. I'm really okay, just gotta revert back to my previously happily, or at least, resignedly single, self. And if I want to get laid, or even go on a fun date with a nice guy, go to LA. Or DC. Anywhere but New York.

That's really it, trying to be good and work, doing some fun and even political interviews for my column this weekend and just plotting, planning, all that boring crap no one wants to hear about it and listening to the brilliant Kirsty MacColl. I realized while blasting those songs like "autumngirlsoup" and "Light Entertainment" that that's what I have to turn the pain into, something relatable but not just wallowing in misery. She's so smart and sharp and gorgeous and you listen and are like "HOW could someone treat her like that?" And you also listen and realize, wow, if I die at 41, I don't want my legacy to be some bitter bitchy blog. I also don't want it to be what I've done so far - not that there's anything wrong with it, but I'm here to do more than that, and not that I'm getting ready to die, but neither was Kirsty, but she did and she managed to affect so many people with her music. I'm not saying I'm like her in any way or striving for that level of brilliance, but I always want to be striving to do better. I hate being complacent and yet I'm so lazy. I'm a slacker workaholic and I know it but am trying to overcome those obstacles so I can be proud of myself. Ultimately, that's what matters, not what some dumb boy thinks of me, and that hollow feeling, it's all me. So I'm trying to fill it with words, or at least, get the words that are inside out, somehow, some way, even when it feels daunting and dumb and impossible. It may not be much but at least it's a better legacy than the kind of things I've been thinking this week.