Six Word Memoir: Three Words Instead

It's official, 2012 has been THE WORST year for blogging.  Is there a possible inverse correlation with how much I've been working?  Possibly.

Part of the problem is that every time I consider coming on here to write something, I feel I have to do the usual update.  I don't really want to do the usual update.  Job is going about as well as the first year teaching job should go.  Not horrible.  Not perfect.  :)  Don't get me wrong, I can talk about it for days, I just don't want to on here.

So, what to talk about then?

This past weekend, I had a TIP (Teacher Induction Program) Cohort meeting at O. Henry Middle School.  Kaity, who is also a new teacher at Murchison, is in my cohort and so are a couple of other girls that I've become acquaintances with.  Actually, one of them, Caleigh, is my redhead girlfriend, though I'm not sure she is fully aware of that status yet.

I went out to eat with Kaity and Caleigh after our session at Magnolia's.  I had their Texas Benedict which was awesome.  Then I ran a couple of errands after that... for awhile.  I can't even tell you where I went or what I was running errands for.  All I know is that I was completely alone and completely content.  I called a few friends to see what they were up to, but that feeling of crushing loneliness no longer resided in my chest... or pit of my stomach (where it seemed to live this Summer).

I felt good.

I could SAY I felt good, and that in and of itself felt good.

I drove around town, I rolled my windows down, I let the sun beam onto my face as I squinted at the road.  (Sidenote: Why don't I just LEAVE a pair of sunglasses in my car?)  I took deep breaths.  I smiled.  It was great!

Spooktacular Spooktacular 4 was a blast--as were the last 3.  It's kind of funny to think that NOM dominated our college lives, and now Spooktak's come and taken over.  Good costumes of note: Dave's Elliot & ET, Danielle's Binder full of Women, Luis's LMFAO dude, Hannah's Kangaroo (and she made it herself!), and Buddy... oh Buddy.  Buddy was Stefon from SNL--and he was also SUPER BITCHY all night, which is always fun to witness.

As per usual, I'm allowing music to dominate my life.  I'll go ahead and say that I've probably listened to Robyn's "Dancing On My Own" a shit ton more than I should admit (thanks to Girls).

I'm really not sure what else to say here except that I finally feel... good.  No more crying for no reason, no more sighing constantly... I'm good.

Oh wait, back to music.  I have this obsession with knowing why the writer wrote what they wrote.  I ignore the fact that part of the beauty of music (and art in general) is that the recipient of the art form (whether it be the viewer or the listener, etc.) can interpret it any way they want.  I don't know if it's the G/T part of me that always HAS to be "right" and have the "right" answer or what, but I MUST know what I'm supposed to think.  Is that weird?  After I hear a song, even if I love it for whatever reason I choose to love it for, I still have to research what the lyricist meant when they said whatever it was that drew me to love that song.

I'm talking in circles now.

I'm tired.

Just know I'm doing well.  And pat me on the back.  And tell me I look like I've lost weight. :)