mmmarilyn;

a big-city fairy tale.

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{a photo project, 2006}

30 april 2008; wednesday.

4:07:46

in bed w xmas lights twinkling

I feel so much better when I write regularly and feel that I have the time to make the stories in my head come out the way they should (so perfectly elaborated and exaggerated that they reveal the truth in what's out there), but the trouble with being a renaissance woman is that I also feel better when I exercise regularly, especially if it's a bit of yoga or ballet; I feel better when I carefully prepare something well-rounded to eat, all the moreso when it's shared with friends; I feel better when I have creative ideas that I can bring forth in code and when I have rational thoughts that lead to solutions; I feel better when I take pictures that require consideration in the taking and the viewing, and particularly so when it requires that I go outside and feel the air on my neck and in my hair to do it. I feel better when I can do any of these things and keep the work from oppressing me too deeply in the meantime.

And so the writing must take its turn. And so I struggle with it all.

It doesn't help that my indecisive nature leads me to try one thing for a moment, alter my path. I walk quickly down the sidewalk but cannot own decisiveness. The reflexes with which those who pass negotiate their angle are sabotaged. I smile in apology, smile sardonically at myself as I roll my eyes. Sometimes the passerby smiles back and laughs with me.

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