I’ve finished my cognitive behavioral therapy practitioner certification which I’m really happy and excited about. I am looking into some other programs I can enroll in before the academic semester begins. I love to further my education, and training amongst the fields I’m most interested in. It gives me this feeling of getting closer to the place I belong. And that’s a powerful statement, because you get to wondering does a place like that exist? But I think you shouldn’t wonder down that route, you should just proceed with an open mind and a blank canvas slowly building content in your reservoir of knowledge base.
Life is getting pretty interesting.
Custom dresses, coordinated transactions. Spinning in a dead sea. The current washes over me.
I’ve been writing all the time, but sometimes only in my head – and I don’t choose to grab my phone’s notes app or a pen and paper. I think about all of the work only ever produced in my head- the poems before sleep, prim and proper, romantic in their essence — never to be distributed. Even if it’s on a tiny corner of the internet, it’s mine.
Coca cola on the side, in the cup holders of the couch – we browse for Christmas movies. Found Love & Other Drugs, one of my favorite films, and the audience loved it. The rain (doshd in Russian) is coming down heavily, I can hear it pound through the spotlight on the ceiling. Inside this place is warm, the dog is calm though she wants to go back outside, she just doesn’t know it’s still raining. We have a very small Christmas tree— enough for us, and it’s covered in white lights on the tree and within the perimeter. Presents hidden underneath the couch to give later. Back and forth between, whether I should say something to you.
Return on the second day, bring some jam. Lollipops in paradise. You – from Palo Alto, California — me, too blissed to hear the rest. At this point.
I’m reading a witty book, laughing. Trying to take the stresses of the day off, but it’s hard sometimes, it really is. I think it’s hard for all of us, on all of us now. Mixing gin and coca cola, not me, you, some things are always you. At the beach we play. We look mesmerized at each other like I’m a sea goddess and you’re my man, in the sand.
We can stay like this forever.
You tell me to my face, you love me you love me. And I can’t get the words enough, I can’t hold on to the words alright, I can’t keep it to myself.
A glass of wine, in the sunlight. Evening comes and bodes overhead. A bottle of currant red wine, in the fridge, cork open so it’s slowly drip, drip, dripping. Red on the floor. Unscrewed. You, disheveled, raggedy old jeans. Clean mustard look. Like firm cherries in the evening’s light. Me, tender, at last.