Listening to strange ambient music. It leaves funny taste in my mouth.

Mind, that could be the wine and toothpaste.

I watched an interesting video the other day, about how television has given my generation and the next a sense of entitlement. An undeserved sense of entitlement.

Is that all I'm feeling? This restlessness, that makes me unahappy? Is it just a false sense of entitlement?

I think, I wonder.

I look at my options.

Vancouver.

Sydney.

Wellington.

Cruise Ship.

And I wonder...

What's wrong with me?

WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?

I've been going to W1nners. I like the clothes they sell. I find the quality to be higher, so I don't mind paying a little more.

Well, most of the time the quality is higher. You watch yourself, though. Sometimes it's 'designer' junk.

Most of the time it's nice.

I bought a green merino wool sweater with paua shell buttons on the cuffs. It's pretty AND sensible.

And it sits over the arm of my green velvet wingback, with the tags still on.

And here I stand in paint splattered plaid shirts -- men's shirts no less -- and jeans so old the thighs have rubbed out.

And my nice shirts still have the tags on.

Isn't it enough that I'm buying nice stuff, now?

I bought two good bras in as many days.

No new pants.

Soon...maybe. I don't like the styles out right now.

I like...dare I say it...'mommy' jeans. I like high waisted jeans because they fit my body right, they don't cut into my love handles. And I can pull long shirts over them and no one is the wiser, and I don't end up with too many rolls.

Sometimes...sometimes I feel like a cup for my friends to pour their emotions into.

I often feel lost without someone to tell me how to feel.

My default emotion is introspection, which can be a very terrifying thing.

.

Rosie.

Before&After