Sometimes everyone needs a little vanity. If you ever wondered what I look like in the morn:


See that swollen eye? It won't fucking go away. It is, I believe, a mixture of allergies and oak pollen and a possible infection. I've been treating it by rubbing it with dirty fingers at least a thousand times a day. It obviously makes me beautiful.

Despite the ruthless eye, this weekend brings adventure. I'll be headed down south with my best friend to see our other best friend with my little boy man in tow. We'll be bringing videos and toys and snacks. It should be pretty fun. I have yet to pack, though, and I have yet to head to the mailbox to check for my paycheck from last week, All in due time, children, all in due time.

The book that I mentioned last check in is still sitting about where it was last week. I know where it goes and I know what it says and I'm already in love with all the people that I've birthed from my words and all those that are being pieced together lie heavy in my heart, but I can't stop myself from editing and second guessing what I'm trying to say. I read fiction and non-fiction on literary sites nearly every day, and some of it inspires and encourages and I think "I can do this, I can make it, I can actually make writing my profession", and then others are so brilliant and beautiful and still haven't "made it" that I cry inside and think to myself, "If they haven't made it, and there are milllions more like them out there, how the hell will I ever make it?". I guess everyone goes through that though, in their careers and their life ambitions, second guessing themselves. Just do it, Myrtle, just do it.

Easier said than done.

P.s. My life is filled with beauty still, and last night brought fun and laughter and good talks and good sushi. Thank you