this summer will make me or be my death (in the face)

in theory, this summer sounded like it would be the time the rubber finally met the road. productive, engaging. i would work hard and be exhausted, but happy.

in practice, those things could still be true. but i am struggling to balance under the weight of this incredible bounty. in four days i move into my next living situation. high risk, high reward. and then it’s go time.

i just wanted to write and say that i’m terrified of what i’ve gotten myself into. everyone’s asked about my choices with a light tone and a cocked head, like, “i don’t mean to be rude, but – is that… humanly possible? are you not kidding yourself?” and, let’s be real, they’re probably right. i’m probably mucking up the math of what a single human can apply herself to in three months.

but i’m also really excited. and maybe i’ll have a day here and there where i’ll be unable to get out of bed for being so emotionally wrung dry, but i have given myself the gift of being positioned to finally embody all that i want to. there was a huge gap between how i was living, and how i wanted to live. now  that i’ve closed that gap, i’m standing right in front of the lifestyle* i’ve been (very) vocally pining after for the last few years – and now i am charged with the task of getting what i want. who would’ve thought that manifesting the projections of what you desire would be so difficult?


*the concept of curating one’s lifestyle maybe seems wanky, but i promise it’s something we’ll talk about another time.

it’s finally time

i try not to post too much about “things that are going to happen”, because most of the time that simply means “things that i’d like to see happen”. i make empty promises because it feels good, but i don’t always acquiesce that i’ll have to be the one to put the work in. i delegate to a future self that i don’t anticipate becoming. i write eloquently and masturbatorily about procrastinating instead of getting to the point.

i feel more comfortable writing this post because i’ve already done a chunk of the work. i read somewhere that you should make shit first and then tell people, which made me feel a sharp pang of defensiveness. obviously this strongly indicated i was guilty of crying wolf, time and again.

well, here you are. concrete evidence that i’ve done something. proof that i’ve been productive at least today. publishing. boom.