(waning)

I saw one of those falling stars on the way home tonight, and I wanted to say it out loud over the phone, or just tell anyone, as a reminder I guess. I'm finding it difficult to not have anyone to share things like that with. The things I'm most fascinated by come out as either a bore or a burden, which makes everything really lonely. I've been writing lists every day when I wake up. It keeps me busy because looking at a list that only says "work from 10-6:30" makes me feel pathetic, which in turn leads me to make up plans that make me feel important. They're never legitimate plans though because most often they only include myself. If I'm not working I'm taking pictures of the sky, or reading a book on my list, or taking a four o'clock nap, or trying to figure out downtown Denver, or smoking in my backyard or in a field, or laying in the grass talking to my dogs, or talking to this chinchilla in my room, or doing laundry, or buying coffee that I could make at home or get for free, or watching a foreign film, or drawing blind contours, or learning how to cook something tricky, or writing things to remember on my wrists, or wasting gas so I can read in a library, or watching a lightning storm, or having tea parties with my little ones. Tonight I was holding this little girl named Amy because she wouldn't fall asleep, and she was singing to me instead of letting me sing to her. If you've ever experienced anything that gentle or real you should know how I'm feeling right now. It's unreal that someone would trust me with anything as fragile as her. I was really lucky to be thrown into a business as weird as babysitting at such a young age because it's made certain parts of my heart permanently soft and squishy. I'm trying to pretend that nannying part time, working full time, a list of books, and a book of lists will distract me from how heavy my boots are, but watching everyone I know run off in different directions to school is difficult. Very difficult, and very lonely.