008 | a quickie.

I need a huge rush of pleasure. A delicious takeout? A day of purposeful laziness? A tax-refund gift-to-myself splurge? Or, you might be inclined to respond, “Sex? I am correct. You require sex.” But it’s cool, I’ve gone this long, my fear of covid peaked, stabilized, and now in our third lockdown, has circled back to heightened precautions because long-haul covid sounds downright horrifying. PinkCherry satisfied me with their early-pandemic “You must be clawing the walls” promo codes, so now I’m just waiting for the post-pandemic era of STIs galore. The wild west of urban singles with sorely-battered communication skills meetcute’ing freshly quarantine-divorced possibilities who had to move back from the farmland property they pandemic-purchased with their former sweetie amidst their WFH productivity-peak wonderland. The mismatches, the desperation, it’ll be a thing of wonder, sprinkled in fairy dust.

“Why don’t you hop on the apps and try video-dating?” I don’t know, why don’t you go eat your own butt. I don’t know, I’m barely in the state of mind to handle someone asking me how I’m doing, let alone the steady stream of conversational opening lines from seemingly well-adjusted members of society with respectable answers in the Occupation field (something besides mysteriously-douchey “entrepreneur”) very seriously inquiring about my experiences and, if so, my immediate desire to reacquaint with anal.

I don’t know, why don’t you go eat your own butt.

Good job, boys. With that level of confidence and assuredness of your preferences, I’m positive you’ll find a partner to fit your every need. Why it’s the ones who are straightforward with their needs and wants that grab it all in this world. Modesty and shyness are a thing of the past. Why can’t I learn that already.

002 | preservation.

I’m hesitating on what to write about right now. I’ve put myself on a deadline of accomplishing this blog entry by midnight (or 1am or whatever) and here I sit typing and backspacing first sentences. There are a multitude of topics I could venture into, but instinctively I’m being held back from diving in. My brain’s wondering, but mostly my heart– are you up for it? Are you ready for the ups and downs that come with letting your mind wander in that realm?

It’s the deep ocean where procrastination rises from, like Poseidon lurking ready to burst with a clock in one hand and a phone/guitar/romance novel in the other– these are my time hogs, of course. You know the pressure you’ve put on yourself to produce, so it’s mighty easier to back away, or at least look away, just for right now.

Sure, it’s a big ol’ nothingburger.

But I’m here, staring at the rest of this dooming white screen. And it’s not even like it was a bad day where I’m trying to take a break from an exhausting train of caboose after caboose of sorrowful baggage. It was a pretty remarkable day really, in comparison to the heavy molasses of the past few months. I yoga’d, I pandemic-walked, I video chatted, I fed myself, I worked (edited and sent off a self-tape audition to my agents, and reviewed sides (script excerpts) for an acting workshop), I practiced the dreaded F barre chord on the guitar… and I even threw together a stream of birthday surprise deliveries for a best friend (“Best friend is a tier, Danny.”) which culminated in the creation of the fastest yet neatest powerpoint to accompany hosting a zoom birthday party.

So I’m wondering if I’m fearful of upsetting that steady ground I found today. I took care of my body and I successfully interacted with people. I was even productive– like majorly so. Gonna take a moment here to congratulate myself on having reached an extra level of modern human where I could simultaneously host a zoom party game, interact with the conversation, and update a powerpoint with images from incoming emails from latecomer guests. I out-human’ed myself. I deserved– nay– achieved that entire bowl of dumplings afterwards.

It was a good day. I checkmarked a ton off of today’s to-do list. Past Bree is really happy, a true proud parent.

So it’s ok, Bree. Take this day. This blog entry can be a gimme. Sure, it’s a big ol’ nothingburger. But you kept up the streak. Didn’t even kill it on the second day! That’s like, at least a step above crying into your bedding’s flat sheet. (That’s what it’s there for, right? Built-in handkerchief.)