Doesn't Always Make Sense

It is absurd that I am awake right now. Absolutely unimaginable. For the past four days I have stayed up until 5 AM working and then gotten up to do it all again at 9 AM. Four days x four hours of sleep means I have gotten only 2 days worth so far this week, and that's unacceptable.

I'm shocked I even have memories of anything, I have forgotten what REM feels like.

Tonight was supposed to be an epic 11 hour sleepfest. I left work at 6 (unheard of!) met a homie for drinks until 7 (the nerve!) got home at 8 (shock and awe!) then wrote a proposal til 10 (yawn) then crawled into bed too tired to even play Nintendo. I crashed right out.

Then 11:30 rolled around and apparently my mind was up and at 'em.

Damn you brain. How can you be so rad and stupid at the same time?

My brain and I have a love/hate relationship. Or love/tolerate. Something along those lines it's all very complicated.

The main news is that we shipped the site I've been fretting about for two weeks last night/this morning at 4 AM. Stoked on accomplishment, I hung out with 2 of the cutest developers on earth for another hour just sort of soaking it in. I did handstands. I did a lot of handstands.

After a certain point when you're producing something like that and your whole job is emails and really specific documents filled with numbers and CYA statements, you just have to stop working and entertain yourself. No client wants an email from me at 4 AM.

So the wee hours come and it's Facebooking, taking photos, smoking cigarettes, avoiding the whiskey on my co-worker's desks, DJing on the office sound system. Writing up notes and telling myself to check them later. Looking for furniture for the fancy new lounge. Smoking some more.

And doing handstands.

Yeah I'm back at those in earnest. It's been years. But my new office is simply full of places to get them done. Walls to do them against. Big open spaces to freestyle. Quiet little corners to turn upside down in and just hang there. I listen to keyboard clicks and problem solving discussions by people smarter than I am, or smart in a different way. I ask if people need anything. I do more handstands.

I'm traveling backwards in time via denim.

The Favorite Jeans. The Two Hundred Dollar Jeans. The kinds of jeans I stopped buying when I stopped loving the way my ass looked. They still hang out in my closet kinda shocking me with their smallness. I used to fit those? Really? What was I, like, pinkie sized? Jesus. Those jeans won't fit over my hips any longer.

But then there are The Subsequent Jeans. Stylish, but no Adriano Goldschmieds. No Sevens. I bought them for, I don't know, a hundred bucks? That was even too much to pay given that when I decided to start gaining weight I did it in typical Angelina style. No playing around. Ha.

Also of course it is important to tell you that I know spending hundreds of dollars on jeans is absurd for a million other reasons that I am aware of but not emotionally sophisticated enough to deal with. Also though: starving and disenfranchised people are not the subject of this blog. They are the root of everything but my head is in the clouds. I am selfish.

So I have this collection of jeans spanning from size 8 to size 1 strewn about my bedroom. Daily, my options change and I find myself wiggling into jeans I'd stopped fitting before. I have not begun to starve myself, but I've begun to eat the way I have always eaten up until I decided to get lazy and silent and a little dumb. I eat anything I like. No rules or restrictions. But I eat just enough to satisfy myself, and don't feel the need to wash down my lunch with 2 glasses of wine anymore. Life simply isn't that boring, these days.

I also run around all day. Up stairs. Down stairs. Around the corner. To some cute boy's desk. To some cute girl's desk. After my boss to ask him a question. Away from the twenty something clerk at the local market who wants to date me.

And there are also the handstands. That full body engagement I've been missing and missing and missing even more now that I don't fuck.

The weight is going away and I'm starting to actually consider the fact that I may get to wear those darling AGs again, as they are a timeless cut and make my ass look like a peach.

We'll see where this all goes. Could be that at 35 (36 this month!) I am not cut out for teeny tiny any longer. I could live with that, but being lightweight looks good on me. My body is such that I can carry smallness very well and no one ever worries that I need a sandwich. I'm short and have a small frame and chubby cheeks and feminine arms and thighs like a proper sista, even as a size 1.

So yeah. We'll see where this all goes.

And yes. I think I've reached the height of dumb ass masturbatory blogging, having spent thirty five paragraphs telling you about my weight issues. If you've read this far I commend you, and you can have the half of my cookie that I don't want.

Or I can teach you to do handstands.

I'm hoping that I've run my mind around in circles enough now that I can get back to sleep and start committing some memories for real. I'll keep you posted. Sweet dreams.