Circumstantial fish tank

Started my new role on Thursday. As white people say, “It started it off with a bang.” Like whatever sets off a race. I didn’t have to dodge any shots fired at me.

Just to clarify.

It’s a lot, but it’s nothing I can’t handle in time. Nothing that will force me to try to rewire my brain circuitry into being radically left brained (because let’s be real) (as even more white people say).

I also got a new ear piercing Wednesday. During work hours (lunch.) Third time I’ve done this. I find that silly. Happy with it. It didn’t bleed much. Conch. Also dyed my hair a magenta red. I’m pushing the boundaries for a corporate environment.

Shrug?

I lost seven pounds in 2 and a half weeks. On purpose. Just by counting cals and utilizing protein powder, darlings. Not a bad way to start what I should have started much earlier this year. OH WELL.

Cleaned yesterday. I find it grounding. Need to clean more. I know you’re excited to read about the banalities of this life of mine. But at least I’m not trying to sell you anything.

Struggling what to do with the rest of my weekend, although there are things I know I should do. I have had a migraine since last night that I’m handling carefully. It is mostly gone. Yet I find it spiking up again now that I’m awake.

Who knows.

Say something interesting, Caitlin! Okay, I got nothing, so here’s some self-indulgent things that I think about constantly:

#1 If I have a clean shot at something extraordinary happening to me, I think it might be traditionally publishing novel or body of non-fiction. My creative writing instructors have told me to “aim higher.” “Send to Time.” “Send to literary magazines.” And well well, Time nibbled. Some days I am unwell, I struggle with the business of brushing my hair. And I think, “what is the point of squeaking by, of getting better.” And I think “the kitty girls, and maybe the prospect of become an established writer.” Whatever that means. Whatever and wherever I decide the golden bar is. Reach, reach, reach.

#2 I’m lucky that good people love me by virtue of being plunged into the same genetic or circumstantial fish tank, plus however I make them feel, whatever I have been able to give them over the years.

Maybe that’s extraordinary enough.