Trying not to think about it

February 13, 2001

mindless tasks soothe my weary brain. copying and collating and stapling and filing; this is all i can handle right now.

i could not sleep last night. note: i can sleep under virtually any condition, so a sleepless night is indication that something is surely wrong. something is surely wrong, and i do not know what to do. this is the part where i decide not to get specific with what exactly is wrong, because i don’t want to speak to soon, or tell other people’s stories, or receive a dozen e-mails telling me it will be okay.

of course it will be okay. it is always okay.

right about now, i could use a bowl of my mom’s corn soup; swirling the corn and broth with my teaspoon, i’d look up at her and she’d meet my eyes with a soothing look, making the rest of the mean, cruel world disappear. of course, i may just have to settle for a cup of corn chowder from the whole foods deli.


  • I'm Christine, and this is a slice of my life—a sweet, rich, wildly indulgent slice that would taste really good with a scoop of Breyers vanilla bean ice cream. Read more >>

  • I run a darling, friendly, little graphic design studio.
    I look on the bright side.
    I take photos. Lots of photos.
    I wish on stars and on websites.

  • I built my first web site 7 years ago and got 15 seconds of fame. (It changed my life.)
    I launched, then relaunched, an online magazine.
    I admitted to several embarrassing crushes.
    I consumed more bacon than any human should and lived to tell the tales.

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