100. i’ll see you in 40

Ain’t nobody got time to do dishes. Ain’t nobody trying to do dishes. Ain’t nobody trying to put some essential oil into the diffuser, neither. But somebody gots to do all the above and that somebody is me.

I’m pretty tired, but happy. Life is going swell.

I’ve come up on opportunities I never would’ve imagined possible. When I left the gallery a few months back, I didn’t think I’d be offered a position. But now that I’m there in an official capacity, my full, creative art hoe side is thriving. I have so many good ideas for so many good people around me. I’m like, here, take this, take this, take this, and let’s all secure our bags.

I’m happy I’m comfortable enough in my space again to walk around with the lights off. Sometimes, after a day of hustling, it’s nice to sit in the dark and quietly write while listening to Joji. I really want to see Joji. Joji, let’s make it happen.

The little snippet of audio I got from the beginnings of my Carter Ace conversation before we really started spilling tea was destroyed when that dickhead broke my phone. Jeez. I can’t believe that happened last Friday. Like, what the hell? What was up with that? Are some people so simpleminded the only thing they can do to affect change in the world is break someone’s phone? That’s pretty sad. Like, why didn’t you just go on a walk? When I need a breather, I do something unnecessary and pointless that brings me unnecessary and pointless joy. Like, test drive a Tesla. Or look at people wearing santa hats wondering why everyone’s wearing Santa hats, only to realize it’s December and some people still care about Christmas. Or cook for friends. Or get sentimental tattoos. And so on.

It was a long, productive day. I’m doing PR work and PR work was something I used to think was pretty dumb, but it’s fun when you’re actually trying to build relationships with people and not just trying to look cute, get drunk, and have fun. At my university, the paths in journalism school were something like, reporting, PR, digital media, mass communication, something, something, something. Reporting was the lowest tier option like, “Reporting, hah, who needs to learn how to ask questions?”

But I did. And now I ask all the questions, all the time. Lots of those questions people don’t bother asking, ever. So you’re welcome!

Billie is the newest intern at the gallery. Her nickname is Belly. She’s a Scorpio and cool and good at building things. All the interns at the gallery have been sweet and hopeful and helpful. I can’t believe in the new year, I’ll be spending my days at a little art gallery in Chinatown, chugging along. What the fuck? What a dream.

And not only that, but I’ll be writing about art, too. Not here. Wink.

The guy who took my virginity has been proven wrong on so many fronts that I can just curl up on my lil futon in the living room and laugh my ass to sleep. Writing? I did that. Emotions? I got those. Experiences? I’m living them. Peaceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee