angela.

My biggest problem with organization is how time consuming it is. It’s time consuming to get organized and constantly taxing to keep organized. You can’t drop the ball or you lose all of the organization you’ve done. It’s enough to convince you not to even try. To aid in lessening my anxiety, I’ve decided to take small steps and just see what happens. Purging and donating useless items will help me out a great deal. I’m using my week off from work this week to try and tackle this goal head on. I’ve made a list for which rooms I need to purge and organize and I’ve already completed 2. 4 to go, one of which is the worst of the worst: the storage room. I don’t even want to go back there. I’m going to need reinforcements.

The first time I fell in love, I was head over heels, doing flips in the air, drunk off of the scent of it in love. I was 19 and I couldn’t imagine ever being OUT of love with him. The key factor in the depth of my love was how balanced our feelings were. He was just as high on love as I was and I could feel it. We recharged one another’s love keeping it always at a full-time high. And then we took on some grown-up responsibilities together. We moved to NYC together and paid bills together and shared a social life together. Only he was an artist who was passionate about working in his studio and I was passionate about living it up on the town. So we spent less and less time together. When we moved back to Vermont for one summer, I stayed behind while he flew around the world doing appearances and collaborations for his art. I was bored off my noggin and I resented him for his fabulous time. That’s pretty much when the cookie crumbled. A month after we broke up he started sleeping with a writer. Now they are married and they live in New York.

I was kind of soured on relationships after that. Being vulnerable was no fun, I decided, and I was no good at it. So I vowed never to be again. But that vow got broken a couple of times and I was filled with a sense of regret, ‘til this last time.

I’m in love again. I’m vulnerable. It’s hard. It’s magical. It’s a lot of work. Sometimes, it’s incredibly easy. I no longer believe in “love ever after” because I know how easily we feel the ability to change our minds and our hearts but I’m, as my friend Buster would say, “in it to win it”. I don’t believe in the lasting quality of anything anymore, but I’m also no longer interested in sabotaging things out of fear. I’m in love and I like it. If this love should change, I’m totally open to making “falling in love” a goal again. It’s a natural high and I recommend it to all.

My elementary had a ferret as the school pet. He lived in a large terrarium (which I realize now was not the nicest accomodation for him) and his name was Snooky. I loved holding Snooky because he was so soft. What I didn’t like was the scent left on my hands afterwards. Ferrets smell like skunks, and that’s even if you get them de-skunked. Snooky was de-skunked but he was still just as smelly as one. Ferrets need a lot of room to run around. I think they like tubes to run through. My friend Jasmin’s mom was obsessed with them. She belonged to a Save the Ferrets organization and she rescued sick and abused ferrets and nursed them back to health. At one point I think they had 6 ferrets living in their basement. They had their own playroom. I never held any of them because they were not very content with being held, seeing as they had various ailments. Anyway, long entry, but I enjoyed reminiscing. I recommend holding a ferret, to satisfy your curiosity, but I can’t say that I recommend inviting one to live with you. That’s an entirely different experience altogether.