Do you swear, reader? I do. Like a sailor, to be honest with you. I find it rather therapeutic. Some people do yoga, some people drink, I swear. I hate it when people flip it into a moral issue. It’s not. I promise. I hate it when people claim that there are better, more dignified words to use. I don’t believe in privileging some words over others. Economy of language, y’all. Find me a one-syllable, four-letter word that packs the punch of an expletive. I hate it (HATE IT) when people argue that it’s not ladylike. Ain’t none of your damn business what I say and it isn’t your bloody job to qualify my behavior. Period. Secondly, who wants to be that sort of lady, anyway? All of this to say: today was a motherfucker. (See, I got there.)
I leave tomorrow and find myself rather unenthusiastic. There are several reasons for this, but one stands out. Where are the fucking dumplings, Washington? Where is your Eldridge Street equivalent? Where are the sour and spicy cucumbers? You’ve got ramen, sure. Ramen without pork belly, but ramen nonetheless. Where is the self-serve frozen yogurt? Real talk. I am a student, this is unacceptable. Silver lining? Maybe my pencil skirts will, you know, zip.
Oh, yes, sewing. I have four works in progress. Four. One just needs a zip and sleeves, one needs gatherings and facings, and two need fast assemblies. They were going to happen today but I decided to actually spend time with my family. I know. It was looking a bit like a factory floor in here, for a bit.
Anyway, I need to pack. Like now. Just thought I’d check in because I have no idea how frequent the postings will be when school starts. Sadness. (Kind of? Maybe?)