rock over London. rock on, Chicago.

Mar got into grad school.
she’s moving back to Bloomington, then. back to school, Mar goes. library science, because Mar wants to work in a library. hell yes, Mar.
this is something that has stuck from our childhood. mom loves the library, couldn’t ever live without it, and took us there regularly. she’s passed this love on to Mar. this is good. I’m on board, because this isn’t misplaced love Mar’s got; it’s hard to find fault with being habitually addicted to reading.
so she’s gonna go back and get her master’s degree in library science, and pick up a teaching certificate to boot. and, maybe, end up a librarian at a school somewhere. I think this is kickass.
because Mar’s the best of us, and no one’s gonna disagree with me, and I know she’s gonna end up doing right. no pressure, Mar, of course.

I did jack, shit today. more laundry than you could shake a stick at, and I made a whole mess of potato salad. this is my new thing, this potato salad. and I’m getting better at it. boiled the potatos a little longer this time, threw in a few eggs, got some onions rocking. olives, green peppers and mustard. it turned out well, but I went heavy on the wasabi again. again! should have seen it coming. I need to learn to respect wasabi’s strength, so that we can live in this world, in peace, together. but I’ve got a lot of growing up to do.

and I landed that freelance editing job.
that’s not the right phrase. “landed” would presume I put effort into this. I didn’t. I’ve put plenty of effort into finding work, and I’ve found nothing, but this you can attribute to luck, as in: I’m lucky to know Spencer. and I’m lucky he introduced me to his roommate. and I’m lucky she thought enough of me when this job came around.
so keep your fingers crossed that I don’t fuck it up. I’ll probably be okay, but still, I’d appreciate your help.

also: Beirut – ‘Postcards from Italy’