I took such care when I made breakfast this morning. I roasted the pearl onions, brussels sprouts and tomatoes so nicely. I cooked the rosemary into the potato and lamb hash and stirred the scrambled eggs in to bind it all together.

Still: under-seasoned.

I then proceeded to chip the top part of my beautiful desktop computer. The one I thought I’d sell if New York is still on the table in 6 months. The cost of the repair?

$900.

Uff.

It’s raining today. It’s not my day. It’s not my week either. The roar of summer has come to a screeching halt. Suddenly, everything I worked towards has been packed up and loaded out. It would be the perfect time to distract myself with a sunny vacation (an old post-summer tradition of mine). Instead, I am taking a leap into the dark. I’ll be packing up and loading out the comforts of my room, saying goodbye to my friends, my haunts, the beer that is Canadian, the one I drink when I have a bad day.

I think of the Emmylou Harris lyrics: Soulmate, the blues are deceiving, it keeps us believing we’re on the wrong road.

I remind myself of where I am headed. Patti Smith has written two books about it. I can find my own Cafe ‘Ino to work from. Bjork has a place in Dumbo. I can collect progressively more obscure outfits and feel as eccentric as ever. And the museums, and the park and the whole world in one city and the dream.

I wish that today I could armour up with a list of things that would convince everyone that I am worthy. Convince me. I wish that I hadn’t let myself be vulnerable this week and subsequently in need of armour.

I wish I could really appreciate every person that is rooting for me right now. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the multiple soft places that I have (if needed) to sandwich myself between. I know that I am supposed to be feeling good.

It’s like I’m homesick for something, but not for a place or a person. I’m homesick for a purpose. It’s as though I’m hanging off of the edge of one, trying to make out the shape, the beat, the rules. It will demand sacrifices: vulnerability, courage, and yes, some suffering. Uff.

30 Minute Playlist: Supposed To Be