To the gloomy, grey clouds peaking through my windows. My dog curled up not even an inch away from my stomach. My stomach growling for food. My eyes not wanting to open. I think pulling the covers over my head will change the fact that I need to be to work in the next half hour.
I love what I do and I do what I love. I feel though, I'm not in the right spot to do it all. I can never be fucking satisfied. It's never good enough. I have an amazing job. An amazing boss. A great place, in a good neighborhood. But I bitch about not knowing anyone. I want a boyfriend. Or a designated snuggle buddy. The winter months always put me in a more romantic mood.
My life has consisted of tea. New amazing shoes. Yummy reading. And of course, Sufjan Stevens. I would really like to see him play. It's one of those concerts I feel I will never see in my life time. But would love to. I have to live and love the magic and musical genius through Vimeo and Youtube I guess...
I'll be home in San Francisco in two weeks. Extremely happy to be surrounded by friends. Even more happy about being able to see certain people. And to sit on my rooftop, drinking tea for possibly the last time. Looking out over downtown. I've lived an exciting, fun, life. I need to always remember this.
