Somewhere, somewhere
November 19, 2011 - 8:52 p.m.

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I find myself looking around at my possessions and itemizing them.

Keep.

Throw.

Kelly.

Kathy.

Mark.

Throw.

Kathy.

Keep.

Storage.

Not much is going in to storage.

I have this emerald green velvet wingback chair. I love this chair. I don't know whether I want to give it to a friend, or put it in storage.

There is not a lot that I am torn over.

Most of my books I will either give to Kathy to sell, or sell myself. Believe it or not, I know a lot of people who are interested in history books.

Fear, fear, fear, fear. I have to overcome it.

Writing my resume. Must remember: don't undervalue yourself, Rosie.

Don't do it.

I know you're embarassed. I know you think that you could be two hundred percent better than you are.

But as it stands...you've successfully made your career in one of the hardest industries to make any money in.

Not only that, but you're in demand. How many people can say that?

Must not undervalue myself. Must not.

Writing my resume. Putting everything down.

This is such a funny business.

My archery hobby goes on my resume, because you never know when someone will need an archery teacher.

I don't know where I'm going, but I'm going SOMEWHERE. Somewhere warmer, somewhere different, somewhere exciting and stimulating.

Somewhere where I will know who I am again.

Somewhere where I will like myself again.

Okay, okay.

I don't actively DISLIKE me. But I feel a large and swallowing apathy towards myself.

Somewhere quiet so I can write.

Somewhere noisy so I can't think.

Somewhere, somewhere.

Some continant without G on it.

.

Rosie.

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