i hate sunday nights. i love sunday nights.
sunday nights are a transition time for me. the end of the pause. the threshold of beginning.
i am ready for my husband to go back to work. i want him to call in sick tomorrow.
i want to watch another movie. i am ready to get up and move.
i do not want go to back to a life of to do lists. i long for the structure of plans and productivity.
i am a different person. i am the same person trying to be different.
i want to spill things onto the page. i don’t have a damn thing to say.
i love the way i’m beginning to drop down into some philosophical, reflective writing (except for yesterday – that piece was pretty blah). i am tired of being serious, longing to cut loose and romp.
i want to change my update on facebook. i want to drop facebook altogether.
i want to finish my collage. i want to rip up the ripped out bits and flush them.
i want to sing and dance. i want to go to bed and sleep in the fetal position.
i want to twitter. i want to tuck in.
i want to get something done tonight so i’ll be ahead of the game tomorrow. i don’t even want to think about doing anything tonight.
i want to find a book on the writing of lost. if i never see another book, it’ll be too soon.