It is 8:29 am on Sunday and I cannot help but wish that it were only 7:29. I feel like an hour has been taken, stolen, from my womb untimely ripped. Granted, I have no womb from which to rip things, but as I was a C-section baby and could have, therefore, theoretically killed Macbeth, I feel a need to include that pseudo-quote wherever possible.
I got home from a birthday party a few hours ago. I should have gone home a few hours before that, with Art Student. She was mad that I didn't trek back with her, but once I got to the party I felt much more alive, much more vibrant, much more energetic than I originally thought I would. I changed my mind about wanting to come home and speak quietly to her while she made artistic things. I feel badly about changing my mind this way sometimes. But to be honest, I feel that I have kind of earned the right to change my mind on occasion, to do something that I would like to do. It goes back to what I said a few weeks ago - I am tired of doing things solely to make others happy. I really enjoy doing things, and staying places, and going places, that make me happy. She and I had a bit of a tiff in my friend's living room, scaring off another friend in the process. Then she came back again and we superficially made up -- but I am not looking forward to talking to her tomorrow, because last night will still be sitting inbetween us.