Specific. Cunning. Birthday girl.

Another lovely weekend is here. Lovely? Lazy? Same thing?

I am 34 now. claps…. 34 times!

That’s right, as of 10/16 I am in my mid- thirties. What a whirl. Lots of sugar so far and ongoing celebrations considering it happened on a Wednesday. I’m dying to go to the Frida Kahlo exhibit downtown at the DMA but my driving anxiety… ugh. Driving downtown terrifies me. I wish I could magic carpet my way there. I don’t know what the answer is. Every avenue of public transportation scares me. Uber? Getting in cars with strangers? Awh hell. I’m so torn. Am I even ready to tackle this?

I can drive myself where I need to go… I just hate driving long distances and in really chaotic and confusing areas. Downtown Dallas isn’t SUPER far from me in the big fat scheme of things but is hardly close. Obligatory “ugh.”

That can be tomorrow - er - today’s problem. A “when I wake up in the morning” debacle to tackle. My eyelids are starting to get that seductive magnetic pull. Sleep… sleep. Sleep. My mind has a different itinerary though. It says “dream - you’re awake.” And… a few other things.

I applied for a fellowship 2 months ago along with 930-something other writers. We are all vying for 6 cherished spots. This fellowship is for women and I later found out they are prioritizing moms and women of color, which is excellent - they MORE than deserve opportunities and funding that fellowship would provide, I truly mean that - yet I feel a little, awh hell… hoodwinked? It’s not like my barren white ass will win this. Technically I meet the criteria outlined by the committee, which is: DO YOU IDENTIFY AS FEMALE? But still… sigh. The beauty of me having virtually zero chance of being chosen is that I can recycle the material I submitted - get away with that Scot-free. Winners will be announced 10/21. I just need it to be 10/22. I will be at peace with all of this on 10/22. Having an answer to that.

There are still plenty of opportunities for me to write and places for me to submit to, golly darn it. I looked over some of my half finished projects today, trying to find one that I could poke around in - but that wouldn’t be too painful - because sometimes they are, you know? It can be like performing surgery on yourself with no anesthetic. Or if you do put up a wall, the writing isn’t as good or authentic. One has to be somewhat brave in order to write. Brave in a very specific and cunning way.

Very.