Desperate

I'm speed cleaning my apartment to take my mind off of how depressed I'm starting to feel. I feel like some sort of deranged housewife.

I wish I lived in something bigger than a studio. Fuck.

Life is so numbingly beautiful sometimes, if you wait long enough and recognize the interesting bits. Seeming chaos gives rise to fear, panic, doubt, and frenzied emotions not yet isolated by those that feel them, occurring as they do amongst the terrific cacophony of living. Events unfold around you like onion peels and before you realize what's happened you're down to the center of it all.

It is usually around this time that life changes gears.

I don't know why it happens, and I don't know why we never see it coming (and we never really do.) When your life and the universe around you is stripped to the nerve endings and every idea terminates in blinding terror of the unknown, the universe gets off it's cosmic ass and makes amends. Connections resurface, greater plans become apparent, and most problems without solutions find a way to work themselves out.

Life can be tricky like that.

I love my family. I love my friends, lovers, and ex-lovers with the sam applomb as I love sunsets and flowers and wine. Everything is here for a purpose (even if that purpose is not always going to be in our favor.) I'm beginning to realize that whatever higher machination that can give life all of the flare that makes it living has in store for the universe, I believe I'm down with it.