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enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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Unfathomably HOT.

I don't know why I'm writing. I really don't have much to say.

I worked like a dog today. Anna's breathing tip helped quite a bit!

So, that is all good.

Really, I think I talked myself out yesterday.

I am not going to see James Taylor tonight. I love the man and I've seen him once before in concert, and it seems a shame not to go when he is just a kilometer from here in an outdoor park, but I am tired tonight.

I really did not sleep well last night. I think that C. and I ran too hard when we got in last evening. Running hard is definitely the way to keep trim with limited time expended- the faster the better, or at least alternating fast with relaxed, which we do - but I get too revved up. I wasn't asleep until after 12, and I had to get up at 7:30 in order to return the car. In fact, as usual, I was asleep after 12:30 and awake by 7.

That is not enough sleep for me, because I, unlike C., am a baby.

So I've figured out that indeed all I need to do at work is to control my anxiety, because I'm doing the best that I can with the information that I am given. When I slowed down today and actually reflected upon what my boss was saying to me, I realized that 90% of the time when he is talking to me he is providing me with so few of the details that only a mind reader could do the calculations. So, on balance, I suspect that I am actually doing a VERY good job relative to the information that I am receiving. Which is why, of course, I always feel so mentally depleted by the time that I leave the place.

I suppose that the mental ping pong will be good at staving off encroaching dementia, assisting me in avoiding the dreaded daily sudoku necessity.

I'll still do crosswords though. :) Maybe I'll take up chess.

Well, I'm sitting here in a slip and sweating my ass off. It's really far too hot in this place. I've put on the air conditioner but it's hardly worth it. It is old and small and my apartment is hot and under the big black roof of an old, old house. I wish it would rain a little bit, or that night would fall. Actually, it would be great if a lake would just spring up in my backyard, permit the blowing of cool breezes through my house.

Well, it is not to be.

Let me be small right now. How I wish that M. had written me a note today. He is likely still on tour. But still. And why do I want this? It's really so wrong. I need to cure my mind of these thoughts. They are not productive.

I think that I might be addicted to change, to movement. I feel as though things are static and I am not enjoying standing still.

OK. Time for a cold drink. Maybe I will pour it over myself. Too. Hot.

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6:16 p.m. - 2008-07-07

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