I had written ingredients on my hand yesterday to remind myself to pick them up for the class cooking project, and according to The Boy I slept with my face on my hands so I woke up with the backwards word “butter” on my face

Ok I’m actually kind of happy with myself, I’ve made it through two gods on my four god writing schedule. I might post my prayer to Hephaestus once I’ve done my ritual

OK ok okokkkokokokokokokok

How do I…..do the thing. Writing rituals agh hgggg nhhnnn

Adventures in learning Italian

I’m going over the corrections to my midterm, and it appears that instead of writing “I do not take the sun” (non prendo il sol- I do not sunbathe), I wrote “Non so il sol“ or “I do not know the sun”, like I’ve been stuck in the library that I’ve turned into gollum or something

I have done like 3 of my adult list things today

Last night’s dinner

Fresh mozzarella stuffed boneless chicken thighs, breaded, pan fried, and served on top of rigatoni with a merlot pasta sauce.

And yet another publication rejection

I always submit thinking “if this doesn’t get accepted, that’s cool, I won’t think anything of it”

but really

Rejection time and time again sucks ass

I’ve been educating people in my life about sex lately and I feel like an old wise woman who holds a dildo as her wizardly staff

SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE, BECAUSE I AM KILLING THIS ESSAY

Story time:

The summer I was fifteen I went to girl scout camp as usual and I brought my books and my little deck of dog cards with me in my luggage (I wasn’t allowed to have Tarot). It’s the first day and being the child that I am at heart, I snagged one of the top bunks in the cabin and was sitting on my roost waiting for the call to dinner. So I decide to do a cartomancy reading and everything starts coming up spades. Like bad vibes, doom and gloom up the shit. Disappointed, I put my deck away just as they ring the bell. As I hop down, I’m thinking “what a piece of shit deck, all I get from you is bad readings”- and just as I do so, my foot lands on my own shoe, causing me to twist my ankle so badly that I cannot walk for a week.

Moral of the story: Don’t diss your deck, it’s just the messenger