Today feels more like a deficit in the self-care accounting. Self-care red ink. I hung out with aforementioned Larry, he of the frush-frama (the one who seems like he wants more from me, emotionally, than I'm able to give. Can't we just hang out and go to meditation? No, I don't want you to help me put up my shelves, write my lesson plans, or worry about me crossing the street or working with gang members. I can handle my life just fine. I don't want you insinuating yourself into every crevice. Gah! I tried to talk to him about it but it didn't go very well, because I had trouble being clear about what I wanted. So I did us both a disservice.

I wish it were easier to find and make new friends. Without frush-frama.

Remember that book I mentioned, "A Golden Age"? Well, it had a surprisingly horrifying ending that made me burst into hard tears and feel miserable. I know I shouldn't be surprised to find horror in a war book but this came at me sideways and was just awful. (Since you prolly won't ever read it, I'll spoil it - a woman hands over her true love to be tortured to death, to protect her son.... Aaagh!)

anyway. Glum now. "glum" is a great word, isn't it. Glum.