last night, I
- took a bath
- watched michelle obama’s doc, becoming – kind of a nice positive spin on America
- and then lay in bed for 5+ hours listening to billie eillish songs (had to look up how to use the word “lay” properly here)
- then listened to the same 3 songs for another good 1 or so trying to go to sleep, wallowing in faux emo-ness
- then I read woody allen’s memoir, which made me feel better, it was like watching one of his movies
some things i thought about while laying in bed:
- i forget a lot of things but there are two memories that always seem to come back to me:
- the day I told P in the car that R was coming back and that I am going to be friends with him. that I had my own derived values around friendship and that I wasn’t going to give up on it. What an a-hole thing to do. Can’t imagine how it made P feel to hear this from someone who had cheated on him, that he still had to be around because of his child and business, and someone he was clearly not over and confused about. The reason I remember it is in that moment, I felt so “right,” and in a way so “righteous” because I was standing up for my convoluted morals – a set of false algorithms that I created so I could do what I personally wanted to. sh*tty.
- 2nd is when I was in the hospital after having C and P was laying on the bed next to me, singing “Goodnight Angel” and then later when I came out and he was the one standing in the “waiting room” to greet me, I’m sure we hugged for a long time. Our lives kind of played out like a coming-of-age romcom at the time, complete with sweet, acoustic sound track and all. But I was too stupid to realize how valuable he was, why’d I have to be that character? Usually it’s the guy, isn’t it?! Anyway, our story still has a happy ending, but I wish I didn’t have to so bad about parts of it for the rest of my life. Albeit, we all deserve what we get. #juno
C recently told me she is crazy, little does she know how cray her mother was.