My body feels weirdly weak today. I’m going to chalk it up to the stress of returning to work after a three-week, self-imposed exile from the building. It was necessary, but the impact of returning to the madness and the unfinished never changes, no matter how large a parachute you prepare.
I’m also in debt. I’d like to pay it off so I’m working extra hardcore on assignments. Also, if you want to buy some art, please please go to my Big Cartel shop. I’d love to make you some fancy trading cards. Seriously.
My birthday is in less than 3 weeks. The best gift would be to just ignore it. I deny all birthdays until the moment I’m happy with my life. Then they’ll start to count.