This Is How I Talk Myself to Sleep

This is me trying to show off my very tidy eyebrow with hair wax in it, but instead I look tired and bored with selfies.

I should be making a list of what to pack for BlissDom Canada, but I hate the word should, so I am going to pretend it doesn't exist.

Did my computer just eat both my by-myself-on-stage talk, my by-myself-on-stage talk PowerPoint, and my panel speaking notes? It did?! I am so blessed!

Writing poetry is the best way to spend my time. I'll write three of them, I think. They will all be terrible, but I am a special snowflake, so it is still important work.

It's amazing how toast turns into inedible construction material when you forget it in the toaster for over two hours. Coating it in peanut butter and then microwaving it for a few seconds does not fix ancient toast.

Diet Pepsi! This will heal all that ails me, I am sure of it. It is a soothing balm for kidneys that are too healthy.

One of the biggest reasons for branching out colour-wise when I buy clothing is that sorting through my clothes when packing for a trip is like reaching into invisible night and trying to identify each item by feel. Is that a sock or my favourite underwear? Cat or favourite cardigan? Pants or, oh, gross, when did this last see detergent?

If I don't read all the articles available about the American government's shutdown, how will this Canadian feel relevant?

I am totally remembering to breathe properly while I work, re-work, and completely manhandle my talk about overcoming the dangers of comparison. Also, I'm not worried about being terrible in comparison to the other speakers, because I am above that now that I wrote about it, right? Yes, absolutely. I am a paragon of confidence.

I am breathing just fine like normal people do. Really, I am.

Ballet flats are a stupid focal point to have a gender struggle over. Sheesh.

Reality is what you make it, so Clif bars are a perfectly legitimate food substitute.

Also, NyQuil is a perfectly legitimate sleep aid when your brain is buzzing with the three talks you have to give this month.

I love breathing. It's one of those things you don't realize you do so much of until you're anxiety has decided to shrink your lung capacity to that of two avocado pits.

And now it's time for me to go to bed and fall into a dreamless NyQuil sleep with all the kittens and the Palinode, and I promise to be very excited rather than very nervous about meeting all of the people at BlissDom Canada on Thursday. The pre-throngs-of-people jitters are always worse than the actual throngs-of-people, because I always forget how lovely the people at social media events are. It's like we actually like each other or something.

Tell me something about yourself! I miss your shiny comments.

274/365: Our Stories Know When

273/365: A Bitter Cup