paint with all the colors of your balls.

and then some mornings you inexplicably wake up with the song from pocahontas in your head. 

before coffee, before shower, before dog belly scratches--i'm up stumbling and humming along to how high the sycamore grows and don't cut it down or whatever. it's streaming inside my brain on malicious repeat. no,
not that shitty vanessa williams version--the one from the hit animated disney movie of my young adulthood.

it's been a long couple of weeks and i have little to say cuz my brain is fried from awesome. 
my tarot project is going great--the gofundme is moving along nicely and people and friends are donating toward the most great dream ever. 

i'm fully cubbied at the generator, i've got the gopro (which i'm still learning how to use), and i'm gonna start time lapsing this week. 

i've lost 8 pounds on accident over this project. 
my old dog otis is getting older and sicker by the day.
i'm officially the poorest i've ever been in my entire life.
i hardly see my boyfriend. 
the skin on my hands is red and worn and falling off. 
there is no light at the end of any tunnel...

and yet, i'm pretty fucking happy. 

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