your messed-up life still thrills me

it's been a couple weeks, but my eating habits are back to normal. far less indulgent, far less prepared than when i'm not single. right now it's a wheat pita with turkey, hummus and herb salad with homemade vinagrette [thanks dottie!]. with no one to cook for or eat with anymore, i won't waste the time on cooking anything. throw things together, yes, but nothing that would actually constitute cooking. i guess i won't be writing a comfort food cookbook anytime soon. it's ok, i had been missing myself for some time; it can be nice to have almost-too-much time alone.

i have a date with 1997 tonight. lately, it feels as though i had been clutching onto a raft at sea for some time, and i've washed up on shore gasping for breath, sucking in mouthfuls of the past. there's some past i thought would never catch up with me, and then there's the past i can't catch up with. it's like i'm a cop, kind of like in the movie se7ven, and i'm steps/months/miles behind what i'm after. and then very late last night, i was officially forgiven for something i had done wrong six or so years ago. it's all so weird. what's the present? what about the future? i think i actually do know the future better than the present.