Just 5 more minutes

I think life is short. Doesn’t matter how long you end up living, you’ll always leave too soon and miss on so much. 

That’s why I hate the days when I’m constantly looking at the clock wishing time would run faster. Isn’t time running fast enough as it is? Shouldn’t I be living instead of wishing life would just pass by?

I remember these days at my old job when I was feeling exhausted and I felt like I had been there for hours, but when I’d check the time, it would be 7-something am. I wanted  to cry.

It can’t always be fun all the time, I guess. 

It doesn’t seem to fair though, that some people get to live, and others just get to survive.

I’m doing both. Not to the extreme and it’s not so bad. But still, right now, I’m just wishing for the clock to run faster… And that’s a shame.

Can we talk?

It’s official. I have become one of those old ladies who makes the lines move slowly at the supermarket. It is a challenge to us, old ladies, to not tell the cashier way too many details about our days. We can’t help it. We don’t have too many people to talk to.

Yes, I talk to my husband about 99% of my waking time, but what would be the point of telling him the stories about my day? I mean, he was there!

I guess it comes with having absolutely no friends, family or co-workers around. Which is a weird concept. But it’s happening right now.

So, I’ve applied for the simplest jobs human kind has ever invented, just ’cause we needed some sort of income (right?) and I’m very used to being a provider, I can’t deal with the “Should I spend 4 dollars on something I don’t really absolutely need or will that leave me with no money for milk by the end of the week?” paranoia.

But it didn’t work.

I did get one call back from a borderline volunteer job, which I couldn’t do because I can’t drive – and we don’t have a car, so there…-

At some point it crossed my mind that I might be too old to be applying for jobs. Maybe they would rather have some kid selling you a movie ticket or helping you out at the book store.

Maybe I just look like a mom, in my sweaters and my profile doesn’t fit the workforce – of any kind – anymore.

I guess I’m gonna have to keep talk to myself.

I’ve got faith on the husband, though. I gotta have.

Good luck for us…

I’m not bipolar, I’m just a gemini.

I need 2 blogs.

I need to be able to sit down with my dearest cup of mocaccino and write about the stuff that’s been bothering me, so I can read my thoughts and organize them in my head. If that ever makes sense.

I also need to visit colorful, happy places, take 1000 pictures and make humorous comments about them.

I don’t think those two Micheles go together.

One of them is day, the other one is night. One of them is what you see, the other one is hiding underneath trying to keep herself from exposure. At least, sometimes.

I’m not lying. Ever. I just have them inside me. Is it just me?

I’m also taking down the link for this blog from my porfolio, ’cause that was just a stupid, stupid idea I had one day.

Fine, I’m just thinking out loud right now.

Organizing thoughts, as I said.

Sometimes, my posts don’t even make that much sense. But thank you guys for reading them.

I’ll leave you with a picture of a street so beautiful I absolutely can’t believe we live here and that we don’t have to leave.

FullSizeRender-6

Later, guys!

Love and confusion,

Me.