The title was going to be: all on a Sunday night. Then I realized, it's Friday...

It’s been one of those days. In every way. Spent nearly six hours in the dark massage room, which always makes my mind go places it shouldn’t—too much thinking, too much music, not enough sun. It’s funny, I always feel guilty when I do too many massages during the day—the same sensation as when I watch too much TV during the day, like I am wasting time, being lazy. You know, ‘cuz doing massages is lazy. What’s nice though, is that I have a few clients that are like (or just are) friends now, so that helps make it a little more manageable, to chat here and there or just feel comfortable with someone. So, quite a bit of depression today.
However, there has been a bit of laughter too. KE and I went to a late showing (you’re old when 9:45 is late) of Despicable Me. I thought it would be okay. It was wonderful!!! Laughed so, so hard, and it was cute and innocent. Must see.
There was also hope today. Met a cute boy. Doesn’t live here, but got the courage to ask him out—he’ll be here for a few months, so we’ll see… Also, thanks to one of the comments on the book blog (one of? There has only been one, so not really helping me get the feedback I need, which is okay, still fun to put it out there) talked about a site called: Authonomy. It’s for people who hope to publish and are looking for feedback. I’ve already got a little feedback from that. Two really positive comments and it’s only been a couple of hours!!! We’ll see. Once I figure out more of this site, I may ask for another favor from you all. Shocking, I know.
It’s one of those nights where I really just wanna blog and blog and blog. Try to figure things out, trying unload all in my head and heart, but honestly, if I did, it would be a little too raw, a little TMI (didn’t know that existed with me, did ya?), a little too crazy (synonymous with Brandon, I know, I know). So, this is it for this evening.
Here is what I am thankful for: Innocent movies that help you forget the shattering of your own. Small things that probably shouldn’t, but still spark a bit of hope.