I am spending an awful lot of my time communicating. I spent so long separated and apart from connecting with any amount of people, that now I have people around me to spark with, I am ignited. It has taken a year. I feel interesting and interested. I had a memory about what would have happened, had the internship been successful last year. What group would I be moving in, who would I know, who would I be? I felt glad that it fell through, glad to know the people and circle I am in. A scary alternative thought.
So I spent the first part of my Sunday just chatting on the internet. It never feels like the best use of time, typing things that are faster said. But I like typing, and I like the process my brain uses to put thoughts into words, slower, when writing, and more like I'm developing language rather than just chatting shit. You can (try and) say trivial things in a heavy(er) way. Or something. Maybe I am just honestly still enthralled by how the internet works, so much more thrilling than the phone, though I would of course prefer a real person. I hate the phone.
We were talking about how you talk about yourself. I had so many 'what I do' conversations lately that I started to play around with how I phrased it, and how I felt about it. I realised I feel different when I know(?) that the person I am speaking to will 'appreciate' my story. Or I rank myself on their scale of success/importance, and play it up/down accordingly. I still don't know what modest means. There's a trapdoor in my brain for those, along with secular and conspicuous. However many times I look them up, their meanings do not imprint.
How do I truely feel about what I'm doing now? And was I honest when she asked me my dreams and I didn't know? How layered am I, I didn't realise so much, I thought I was empty, but the peaks and the troughs negate emptiness. I am enjoying work a lot at the moment. I am enjoying the communication, the passing of information, the subtleties and dalliances, the eyes and the shuns. When I am tired I hate it, and the pleasantry is chronic and stamina-building-torture that part of me endures and and enjoys.
I just finished my favourite meal. It's not official, it's not Italian, just cooked tomatoes until they burst drowned in an amount of cream a little bit more naughty than Nigel would approve. I wish I had meringue for dessert. I'm trying to focus on the Eight of Wands, and have a good Sunday, doing things at slightly the wrong time with slightly more energy than I need. I am taking myself off for some art, to collect my bag, roll around unplanned for a while. And try and enjoy it.
There may be so many ideas floating around at the same time that you will feel overwhelmed by the choices, but regard them as resources to help you make a decision.