a flop.

Welp. This wasn't exactly a week in which I was burgeoning with motivation. It was kind of a flop.

But I'll take it as a minor valley (or perhaps a plateau) in an otherwise great couple of months, and we'll leave it at that.

I HAVE been absolutely full of ideas and quick glimpses of future things, the big picture.

I've been exhausted and helpful and cranky and relaxed. Although not at the same exact time.

I've gone from purging everything I don't need to scouring craigslist for 'projects.' and back. Whatever the fuck 'projects' even  are.

It's summer. It's finally here again. Which brings out the person in me that I like best. A less judg-y, more free-minded person that I always miss and almost forget in melancholy November or punishing February.

I HAVE planted seeds that are now growing (!!!), purchased a leather couch, and planned a trip that I know my girlfriends and I have been anticipating since last summer.

This week I didn't change my hair, tackle the task of mastering my personal style, or decide where I'd like to move for the next adventure.

BUT:

I sent a card to a friend on my mind, I paid my water bill, I threw the majority of my clothes into a pile mountain on my bedroom floor. Thank goodness it's a rather large room. They're still there. Who knows if I'll sew them all together into weird-patterned quilt or give them all away or decide I can't possibly part with any of them yet. Certainly not me.

I can't do it all in one day.

But I'm getting there.

So no, tonight I probably won't have a wave of inspiration run through me that sends me and my entire psyche into a tailspin-flurry of resumes, cover letters, trashbags, and vacuum cleaners. I probably won't know where my phone is, or the latest and greatest news, or fret about wearing a bikini in two weekends. But I might tomorrow.
Tonight, I'll probably be sitting outside somewhere with my feet propped up, my hair piled on top of my head messily, a beer in my hand (or some Bourbon), a tight circle of friends around me, and the sound of laughter painting the air.

And tomorrow the mood may hit me to clean out a couple more drawers of unaccounted-for clutter, or to read the newspaper, or to write a letter or two to pieces of my heart scattered far and wide.

Or maybe I won't.


No one gets to decide that except for me.


And that's the best damn part of the whole thing.


Happy Weekending.

XO Sara