I am Glaring at the Radio, Swearing, Saying That's what I was Afraid Of...

The first song I paid attention to (while coming into work an hour and a half early because I worked until I passed out last night):

I don’t have no grand plan
For you and me
Just nothing is impossible
Nothing is unlikely
I’m just riding the tide
Nothing more
And it’s bound to take me out some
Before it brings me back to shore

When you look in the mirror
Do you see visions of your past
I ain’t got time for halfway
I ain’t got time for halfassed
When I look in the mirror
I see my days to come
And my face is just a trace
Of where I’m coming from

I haven't found out why exactly I feel so connected to these lyrics, but as the day wears on, clarity has a tendency to follow. Maybe I had a dream that tried to tell me something.

He told me he had a dream about me. Well, well. Or maybe that was a dream. When my nose wasn't buried in a deposition, I spent the rest of the time in a pot-induced haze. And when you get like that, the lines between reality and everything else become very blurry. It's like living your life in a Monet, without the lily pads.

I was surrounded by men this weekend (with brief breaks in it, courtesy of Blythe and Chloe). Blythe thinks my problem is a rational understanding of my own worth, but the stupid heart doesn't buy it. She's right, I guess. Otherwise I don't know why I set myself like I do. Personally, I'd like my heart to shrivel up and become the cold, detached, Communist we all know it can be.

But in spite of all the discomfort of feeling, I had a fabulous weekend. I had a ridiculous amount of fun and I even enjoyed a milkshake.

And the dress was popular.

And I have hope for the future.

And I have an insane amount of overtime to work this week. But that's nothing new, I suppose.

It ain't love
But it ain't bad.