I wrote a long entry, pressed "publish" instead of "post," and there went that. Rewriting lost material is harder than producing smthing newÖunless it's 6 a.m. and life feels very, very small.
I haven't been doing well lately. My apartment is a visual map of motivation's escape route: it starts in the kitchen, dirty dishes; winds through my office, a pile of cigarettes obscuring the ash tray; ends in the bathroom, dirty towels--> floor mats, kleenex spilling like popcorn from the wastebacket.
Every day, a struggle to find reasons not to fall back asleep. The best reasons I've come up with: WB tv, and possible rejection/acceptance letters sitting in my P.O. box. I shouldn't care about either, esp. the letters. Come August, I'll be in Iowa. And yet, I like the limbo of "haven't yet heard back." Validation can never be internalized, unlike the possibility of validation. In the first, qualities turn static; in the second, qualities are still in play. The second is more lively. It better suits my insecurities.