have to keep reminding myself… i’m now someone who “likes myself.” if i were to meet me, i would think her amazing–all kindness, innocence, and intelligence. and thoughtful, in every sense of the word. lily… a savorer of thoughts.

this newfound pleasure in myself takes getting used to. i feel different. before and after. and i want it to show in my countenance and posture, in the timbre of my voice. i want photos of me to be free of self-consciousness, screwed into a contortion of fright and the anticipation of remonstrance. i want to be filled to the fingertips, toetips, hairtips; every pore in the calm of a girl in happy possession of her own little world in this universe of interconnected orbs.

decorating one’s home is perhaps a misguided notion, a seemingly permanent act from the outside, like paint on canvas. but the insides of homes must grow from use, constantly shifting to the needs and desires of the space and occupants. there are days for sitting by the window, looking and hoping; days for sitting in a dark corner, cocooning. there are never any days to sit where the chair looks complementary.

listening to Alice Waters on Fresh Air with Terry Gross. is Berkeley my only home, the only place where i belong? she talks of the sacredness of eating with the seasons, the partaking of nature. tomatoes and corn in summer. preserves and nuts in winter.

i think perhaps living the seasons is a telling of truth about the passage of time.

i picked up “Bird by Bird” for the building-block views, for an antidote to paralysis, but it has unexpectedly turned me into a writer. she has always been there, resurfacing in fits and starts. in journals. at NaNoWriMos. a figment of forbidden thoughts. i understood the value of vomiting words for the first draft, the pleasure of words, the power in writing. i guess i never had the right kind of permission.

but that poignant, funny little book, with which i find plenty to disagree, has removed my personal i-am-not-allowed boogaloo. she said the way i look at the world is wonderful; she said she teaches people who want to write to think this way. and suddenly i’m hemorrhaging words. i’m thinking all the diatribes and ponderings in my head should be written down, that they are beautiful.

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