Yesterday was a full life in a day. Heels on, feet hurt! I did not eat breakfast nor drink enough water.

I got a nice late lunch w Juice, went to la casa to talk about my study abroad experience, and ate dinner with Cami.

Yesterday was a painting day.

Painting days mean I know what my face looks like at every moment, I know where the wrinkles sit in my clothes, I know how my hair is laid slick and which pieces are orchestrated out of place.

I tend to †ake care of myself less on painting days. I like to think I’m making an offering to the community. I don’t think that’s a good thought.

When I got on the bus my card declined. I have to get my card fixed, there is money on it but it’s not scanning properly.

I don’t think I vocally acknowledged the bus driver. My feet were hurting, I was hungry, I was bleeding through my tampon, my bag was too heavy and my shoulders hurt.

I should have vocally acknowledged the bus driver.

He asked me where I was going after I walked away from him. He asked if I had just decided to “say fuck it and keep going”. I had, I had done exactly that.

He said it wasn’t a problem that my card declined. I apologized and asked him what he thinks I should do about the card. He didn’t really care.

When I got off the bus I made a point to go back to the front and say thank you and have a good night. He didn’t say anything back.

I appreciate him. Painting days are meant to be interrupted.

I think I’m doing a good job. With the sorrow and the grief. I appreciate my friends.

Tomorrow I think I will go climb some trees. For now I will go to bed.