Day Nine

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It's insane how short the days feel when I'm home on break. My schedule gets so warped so fast, and by the time I can actually bring myself to get up for the day and be a real person, the sun's gone and I've only got a few hours before people and places start shutting down. I'm wondering how I'll manage with this blog once I head back to school. On the one hand, after a miserable crash, I'll be back into the swing of things and running by a decent hour. On the other, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be kicking myself in the ass for opting to start this on top of what might potentially be one of the roughest semesters I've ever had. If nothing else, though, all of this is for sure going to be habit by the time I go back. It's only day nine, and I already find myself going about stuff with these ten objectives constantly in the back of my mind, and I guess that's the point of it. If happiness is a choice and you make the majority of your choices based on the patterns you're comfortable with, then all it takes is a little bit of conscious rewiring.  

• Show two people how much they mean to me

(1). Stopped into the bakery while DeBonis was working and got my mom an eclair. I swear, those things are like crack to middle-aged Long Island women. 

(2). When in doubt, pick up some coffee for Paulie Cee. Got him his favorite--a red eye, apparently--not because I knew that, but because the barista who's got a crush on him informed me of such. Borderline creepy. 

• Help out a stranger

Missed this one today. I'll just be extra anti-New Yorker tomorrow. 

• Live instead of sleeping

Despite the fact that I didn't get to bed until eight, I was up by one this afternoon. I promptly rolled out of bed and wrote some. This is nothing to be proud of, and yet I am, so bite me. Game-plan for tomorrow: Wake up by nine and set several hours aside to come up with list of not-so-hella-90s phrases. Fresh ones. Yeah. Dope. 

• Do something good for myself, by myself

Craft-time is the best time. I'm actually pretty positive that if I ever won the lottery, everything I owned would be DIY and I would be singlehandedly responsible for the tenfold increase in net income for Michael's/AC Moore.

Mantra suggested by the lovely yoga instructor who teaches Monday meditation classes at my favorite studio. Heard this one at the last class I went to, and two weeks later, it's still stuck in my head. 

• Write here and write elsewhere

Yes and yes. 

• Make a conscious decision to leave my comfort zone

Stuck up for a viewpoint that I believed in, even though I'm damn-well positive it wasn't a popular one. All too often we shut out mouths just because it's the easiest thing to do, and while there's a time and a place for passivity, I've found that there's never any headway without a little friction. 

• Take three pictures of three beautiful things.

(1). See above. 
(2). See below. 
(3). See this fat bird, because it's fat as hell. 

See, this slight fixation with fat animals? No damage done until they became trendy. Now places actually sell things like this 100%-nonfunctional porcelain bird. It does nothing but sit in the bird-cage that Caitlin made me for my birthday, and I'm not even going to deny the fact that every time I look at it, I get genuine joy from its severe level of obesity. 

Meditate

Planning on doing an hour or so directly after I hit publish, right before I crash for the night. 

• Look up at the sky 

Day, what? Four? Five of straight rain? Whatever, Gaia. Be a bitch. I've got these midnight-sky-and-stars-themed flowers. 

No, but for serious. When's it going to stop. 

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