So quiet, eh ... ?
I have been thinking.
I have been reading.
Writing a story in a journal with a real pencil in my real handwriting.
About Jenny who's a waitress in a diner obsessed with a mysterious stranger.
I've been learning about Korean mythology.
And vintage nurse uniforms.
And off and on about how to be a lady. ^__^
My styrofoam garden in the backyard is increasing. I haven't had chance to even tell you about that.
We will catch up ...
I have found a new barometer by which to judge my actions, or rather, it is an involuntary barometer that is improving me perhaps without my say. For every weak thing I do or begin to do, I ask myself if I would admire myself for it. I have felt so critical of myself lately, so ugly, so awful, and out of it has sprung this quest to improve myself. I don't want to become a slave to style magazines; rather, I could not admire myself for doing that. At the same time, I want to look right and decent and keep from embarrassing myself. I feel like my hygeine is always falling short, just like the housework. Every time I turn around, there's hair where hair shouldn't be, there's stuff under my toenails, my tee shirts are shrinking up and showing my stomach; to say nothing of my wildly oxidizing jewelry, scuffed shoes, &c. I don't understand why I don't see anyone else with these problems! Do they spend all their time at home cleaning their jewelry and ironing their