It may have been my company, still dragging its feet on the promotion it promised in JUNE. Or maybe it was my boss, showing alarming tendencies of being a slacker and not (I feel) appreciating the effort I’m putting out there. Or maybe it was my boyfriend, the infamous J, sending a series of distant and cold-seeming e-mails. Whatever it was, it came to a breaking point today.

The trains were slow, and so were the people (this is DC, people. Walk left, stand right. Do not stand on both sides of the escalator. Not acceptable). I actually tried to smoke a cigarette on the way back. I hear it calms the nerves. Point of reference, I don’t smoke. Hence, “tried.” These weren’t even the real deal; just cloves a friend gave me awhile back when, after a few glasses of wine, we thought it would just be so cool to smoke. And no, I am not in high school anymore.

In any event, I used all of my matches–every last one–trying to light that commie bastard cigarette outside of the metro. They all blew out. I made it home, through the wet and rain-ness, and there’s a knitting convention, or craft show, or something going on in the lobby of my apartment building. Knitting. Lots and lots of tables of knitting. I should go down to the gym and run, but I think the knitting tables are the only encouragement I need to stay right here, write, wait for my cookies to come out of the oven (I bake when I’m stressed–bad for my figure but better, I suppose, for my lungs?), and yeah, oh that lungs point, smoke my clove. Smoking is totally not allowed in this building. First time I’ve ever done it, and likely the last. But it’s a clove–which means, it’s like incense! Right? Right.

Somewhere within all of this, I decided–yes, I, magda, decided–that I’d had enough. That’s it, I said to myself. There’s got to be a better way. A better way for what, exactly? Well, I’m not sure on that yet. But somehow it involves me, and this space, and my fingers frantically dancing across the keyboard. I’m here, and if you’re here, well welcome. Welcome to the insane world of magda, sometimes coherent, sometimes not, but hey, you get what you get.  And after today? I’m ready to take it all on.