so there was those two months where i was SO busy and creating a huge amazing-race scavenger hunt for work, and spending every thursday discussing how badly ellen pompeo needs a sandwich with those two really smart favorite friends, and 'dear god i have to do the dishes again?', oh and then i did that TRIATHLON (!), and my friend had a baby, and my grandmother got sick, and i went to chattanooga, and my other friend had a horrible few weeks at work and needed to talk and cry every night, and i didn't have time to kiss on any boys, much less BLOG because lordy i was only sleeping 7 hours a night and that, my friends, IS NOT ENOUGH.

and then.
may 20th hit.

and here i am, on a fucking FRIDAY NIGHT, and i think i've had TWO CONVERSATIONS this whole day, because all of a sudden i'm little miss isolationist with nothing to do and no one to see, and such a squeaky clean house and FULLY READ library and all this time to cook and read and watch old weeds episodes and i really want to sit outside but that guy got SHOT a few days ago right in front of my house and eek!... living alone is scary, and being alone is lonely.

(each summer in college i worked in a little town in new mexico and didn't know anyone and would get up late and get "ready" to go to the store, and then would be disappointed when going to the store just became about buying mac and cheese and vogue and not about running into someone and having them say "what an adorable dress! wanna go dancing tonight?")

and this week atlanta feels like that-- all this lonely, and all this effort to not be lonely, to be busy, to create, to do.