Does anyone ever welcome themselves to do anything? I think it's apropos for me to welcome myself back to the wonderful, exhilarating world of public journaling. Maybe I can be a little less derisive and a little more approachable if I do it more- a full on 'fake it until you make it' modus operandi.
On another note entirely, I'm noticing how much I am saturating myself with hip hop- however, being a scrawnypudge gringo with a background in pop music, it's as if I'm reaching in the dark to 'discover' it all for myself. Right now, my go-to would be Kid Cudi's album Man on the Moon: The End of Day. Clever times and hood rhymes, in my limited opinion. By the end of the day, I usually have been closing the door to my room to shut myself in the sound and putter around- which isn't saying much as my tiny lil 8x12 mustard room doesn't have a lot of space for me yet. -Oh yes, I moved recently.
That's a rather big deal that I downplay to everyone I run into. I will have lived with new housemates, with a newly-bought home, in a brand spankingly new environment for a whole month now; I'm still ambivalent to it. I feel programmed to justify and reassure everyone around me that I'm fine not living in the same home with the same people I had been for the past 5ish years. I don't want to front that it was all lovely and buttercups then, but it's such a sweeping change that I'm having to reexamine who and how I am when I'm not echoing off of them.
Let's consider today the beginning of a new chapter. Cliché, I'm aware, but good for my own sense of over-tidiness and value placed on clearly placed beginnings and endings. It's the first, big, motherofall days before the rest of my life.
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