i'm alive but, well....

so it's not that I've dropped off the face of the earth, perhaps the exact opposite has been my problem: gravity is holding on to me too tightly, pulling my feet too firmly to unyielding reality, dragging me out of the clouds...Thus my journal sits empty and visits to the computer have me behaving in an uncharacteristicly responsible way. I check for lesson plans or meeting times or wedding freebies. I rarely write.

In case you were worried about my creativity, ne t'inquiète pas: watercolor painting keeps me busy creating all sorts of unadmirable bits of merde. Only with that the entire free world does not have access my explosions of emotions.

And I've been rolling this around all day, trying to decide if I would tell my roomates, and I can't just not tell somebody and telling Jay and Linds hasn't gotten it out of my system so here it it: my little brother (the 18-year old) called to tell me that he found pot in our dad's truck. yes, that's right, my dad still smokes pot. Which, if you knew my dad would not be terribly shocking it's just, like, now I really know, my dad's a pothead...and well, it's kinda disturbing, kinda funny, and kinda....disheartening.

hmmm...as if my family wasn't odd enough already.

- on 2003-11-03 at 8:54 p.m.

wilted - blooming