Vermilion Border

google it.

Woke up at dawn with my mind racing and this time I'm not fighting it. Taking Rumi's advice, for once.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you
Do not go back to sleep

I dreamed my grandmother last night. She's been gone for a long, long time. Nina is teaching me not to take it all so literally, but what to make of the fact that in this dream she was the one alive and my mom was the one who had passed? Nothing made sense. Least of all this clock radio that was set to an ungodly hour and seemed to have no off switch.

All bullshit symbols that I could use this dawn to make sense of, I guess.

Or I could go to the gym and still get to work nice and early. That would be rewarding, but the earlier I get to work these days the better and that would surely eat up 2 hours. I lost 15 pounds just by being busy between November and January. I need to lose 15 or 20 more, if you ask me, and the next 2 months just might get me there from the looks of it. Dawn makes me bold. Ready to commit to numbers.

And don't tell me that I don't need to lose weight. That's not why I brought that up. I'm being honest. There's a difference.

I could use this dawn to start sorting through the extra stuff I have since some guy is coming by tomorrow night to haul it all away.

I could use this dawn to take honest self portraits in unflattering light at weird angles with my hair all disheveled.

I could use this dawn to sew a dress to wear today, held together with beaded safety pins and layered over the fake sari that I have.

But instead I'm using it to write this stuff. Drinking chocolate oolong tea and smoking a cigarette. A hot pink bath. A careful outfit selection that will take me through the long haul. A bounce out of the lion's den earlier than I've left it in a month of Sundays, getting me to work by 8 and giving me 2 whole hours to write my proposals before I have my first meeting.

Half of my waking life is proposals. Proposing. I'm getting to be top notch at it. Is it odd that I love it so much? It's another kind of writing. It taps my ability to say the same thing in fifteen different ways according to audience, intended effect and how many times it's been said already. These count as life skills, yeah?

Workaholic mode makes me glow a little.


working from couch 3/13/11