Work is a madhouse, and when my contract is up I think I really will just say no to any offers of extension. November is going to be a lot of late nights at the office, though, and even less of a social life than normal.
I've noticed the aesthetic shift in my personage that began when I cut my hair short has continued, resulting in a simplification of my wardrobe and personal grooming. This streamlining has also been manifesting in less immediately obvious ways. My diet is much like my wardrobe - key pieces with little touches to make it enjoyable and unique to the day. The exercise routine stays basic and flexible enough to allow life to flow easily. In burlesque, I've tried to better optimise my time on the Chicken board of directors, and to devote energy to routines and projects that I feel will better me as a performer. Not a lot of room for fluff, basically.
Ditto magical practice. It's time to rip stuff down to the basics yet again, and make sure that shit is in order. This means meditation. Jesus, I hate meditation. Hate it, hate it, HATE it. Gotta do it more regularly, though. It means a proper offering schedule. It means some good cold walks along the beach in the dead of fucking winter. It means running under the moon, and a lot of careful listening without fear.
This winter is going to be a good one. Stark, brutal, and good for cutting down to the bone.
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| The author, thinking deep thoughts/watching Hoarders. |
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