повторенье – мать ученья

The animals, the animals
Trapped, trapped, trapped 'till the cage is full
The cage is full
Stay awake
In the dark, count mistakes
The light was off but now it's on
Searching the ground for a bitter song
The sun is out, the day is new
And everyone is waiting, waiting on you
And you've got time

I've been watching Orange is the New Black all day. Consuming it really. And laughing. And crying. And thinking. Lots of thinking.

I'm in such a weird place right now, and I'm so grateful to have you to support me while I muddle through it. I can't even articulate how much all of your text messages help me, especially when they are about trivial things.

I know I seem like I obsess less than you, but really I think I obsess more, I just do it silently. You always help break up my thoughts, give me time to gain perspective before I fall back into the abyss of my mind. It's a marvelous gift, really.

I don't know that I'm any better off than I was yesterday, but the place I'm in seems less abysmal and more mine. That feels like progress.

I've been trying to crochet on and off for a couple of days now. My problem is that when practicing single crochet, which is the only thing I've managed to even sort-of learn, my rows get shorter and shorter every time. This is baffling to me. When I was learning to knit, I had the opposite problem, my rows always got longer. This shrinking vexes me. In addition, some of my stitches are clearly all twisted up and generally incorrect (these muddled stitches only add to the shortening problem, intensifying my disdain). I am unsure how to rectify this at this juncture, but I think about it constantly, and am continually crocheting (rather poorly, but crocheting nonetheless) and unraveling the same four inch square of fabric.

повторенье – мать ученья, as the proverb goes.

Think of all the roads
Think of all their crossings
Taking steps is easy
Standing still is hard
Remember all their faces
Remember all their voices
Everything is different
The second time around



In other news, Regina Spektor's voice always feels like a warm blanket. I want to wrap myself in it, all the days.