Sep 22, 2014
So I changed my user name
because, well, it's not my name anymore. I realized that leaving it behind was a thing that had to happen.
Feels weird. Also, good.
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So I changed my user name
because, well, it's not my name anymore. I realized that leaving it behind was a thing that had to happen.
Feels weird. Also, good.
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When I'm home, I'm not home; but when he's home, I am home.
You could read that many different ways. Let me unpack it for you, so you get my intended meaning: When I am at the place where I habitually live, I don't often feel like "Ah, yes, this is home!" It's been a long time since I felt that anywhere. When my son is with me, in this place where we habitually live, I don't necessarily feel it, either. I do feel a little saner, a little more whole, a little more like things make sense, like I know what to do and how to spend my time. But, no matter how I feel, I am home... to him. Wherever I am, that's home to him, and I know that. It's a kind of magic, you know? A sacred duty.
Or in other words, home is where your heart is, so your real home is in your chest.
Well, I think I'll be giggling every time I see the Birth of Venus or something similar knowing there's dick foam involved.
They're doing it.
Got to love attentive staff.
Bridget: they are “salted duck eggs”. I dunno. It was too good to pass up.
Squibs: Shit up.