I've been busy.
I'm glad I'm busy, that's a good thing. Although I feel a little like I'm losing myself in all the commotion. Sometimes it's fun to not recognize my life. Sometimes it's just tiring.
That has been a problem. I'm so TIRED all the time. I'm not getting any less sleep (although many people have argued to me that 5 to 7 hours is not enough to begin with) but I'm more tired than I was, say, a month ago. Maybe it's not anything to do with getting less sleep, but rather I'm doing more in the time I'm awake.
It's tough being a responsible adult. I'm doing all that crazy stuff like paying my bills on time, keeping my apartment neat and presentable, juggling social activities, delving into school and studies, building my private practice. I mean, DAMN!
There's a leeetle bit of my snotty princess-y rebellious inner teenager wanting to be an irresponsible brat. She's rearing her ugly head quite a bit lately. It's like the closer I get to accountable responsibility and self-care, the more she wants to fuck up.
On an entirely different note altogether...
My mom read my blog
Yeah.
If you've ever read my earlier posts (especially "Fucker Mother" and various posts written during the holidays) you'll realize that's not exactly a good thing. I can be a bit harsh. A tad.
Surprisingly, she was cool. Way cool. Yeah, I just said "way cool". We ended up laughing our butts off over my gingerbread house and by the end of the conversation we were swapping recipes. Go figure.
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