After these messages...

I've been told that perhaps I don't take writing as seriously as I should. That I don't do it enough. My commitment has been doubted. Could be right! Could be right. So! I started a new story. I've been working on this book and writing a little here on my blog but no stories for a long time.

TIME TO GET SERIOUS (stay tuned).

This morning I woke up an hour before my alarm. A little wave of loathing broke in my stomach. Vacation is over. Back to strained, one-sided conversations in whispers at my desk-side. Complaining about our boss, mostly. Completely useless and bogging, really. I don't care. I'm just here to make the best of what I've been given. I don't want to talk about it and I'm not on your side:

I've boiled the problem down to one person. Wicked Lady. The source of all that is horrible at work. She's gossipy, lazy, and unintelligent. And I work under her.

And that's life.

Let's begin anew tomorrow and see how it goes.

Here is where my thinking is going:

A very dear and far away friend of mine had an idea. To start a pitbull rescue farm in the northwest. The start-up money is taken care of, we're hoping, but haven't found out yet fully.

It might be carrying big buckets of food out to dozens of grinning dogs in the morning when it is still quiet all around. It could be making my own schedule and finding myself strong and willing to do work that I am proud of. It could mean employing a few choice, dear friends and family and working around people that I love.

It could also mean putting off having kids. Which is an unshakable dream/plan of mine. I love to love. I want to create it.

It could also mean moving out of Portland.

So I'm mulling. Quietly. I don't see many options for me otherwise. I don't see many options for some people that I love otherwise. So...so there it is. My life's work is this writing thing, you know, and I can do that anywhere. I can do that most easily if I am happy and not trapped up with anger and sadness. Something's gotta give. Dogs and buckets of food and quiet mornings could give that to me.

Here Comes the Rain Again

Via.

In a Handbasket

Tomorrow is my last day at work before my vacation and everyone suddenly thinks it is ME who can save their project/proposal/budget estimate. Oh well. Busy time means faster time, right? Right! Heyyyyyyohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

In This Dirty Old Part of the City

I am pretty much allergic to coffee, I think. If I have just a few sips I get dizzy with mania. I drink black tea all the time and it doesn't do anything noticeable except make me a wee less tired. Sometimes at work if I am really tired I'll mix up a mug of coffee (6 sugars, 2 creams) and it is always a mistake. Every time, here I am, hands unsteady and heart pounding. It's no good for office work, that's for dang sure. The bright bands of fluorescent light and the shick-shick-shick sound of paper are like ghouls closing in around me. It's twenty-two minutes until quitting time, I see. Twenty-one, twenty, oh goodness, oh my, I gotta get out of this place.


By: Robert S. Johnson III, via.

Partly Sunny, 69 Degrees

By: Jackson Eaton.

It's been a small spell since I've written anything in my book. The Dear Boy quit one of his jobs so my evenings aren't spent so much alone anymore. It's alright. It'll come, as it is. Also, sometimes inspiration hides quite well.

Clouds Giving Way to Sun, 80 Degrees

Via.

Low Clouds then Sun, 85 Degrees

I am totally addicted to shopping. Clothes, books, make-up, whatever, all of it. Online, garage sales, the mall, boutiques. Can't stop, won't stop. On top of this I actually read fashion ( AKA shopping) blogs too. Oh man. Oh well. Worse things to be addicted to, I say. And how.

HELLO YOUNG FRIENDS! This weekend I shall go to the land of my childhood and have a birthday party at Willamette Park. We used to do this every year when I was small. I'm really excited for it. Nothing like it. Then next weekend there are a lot of dance parties to attend and THEN...the weekend after that starts my week-long vacation from work. Hooray!

I have a small confession to make. I smoked a cigarette. Broke my spell. Ugh, right? Ugh. I was at the river, I was topless, and I was a little drunk. So it goes. Never again! Never again, Emma, god dang it! YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS.

Clouds Giving Way to Sun, 81 Degrees

It was my birthday yesterday! I am twenty nine now. On Friday the Dear Boy and I drove to Lincoln City and spent two nights at the Ester Lee Motel. Then on Sunday I went to the nude beach with Nate, his girlfriend Betsy, and Tara. THEN yesterday, Dear Boy took me to the zoo! I saw a bald eagle, just sitting there plain as can be. It was great.