Austin's Lesbo BBQ

Ok. So, I don't know if you guys have noticed or not, but I haven't really been writing on the "blog" very regularly...It just feels kind of pointless and blah blah lately...and, this "lately" has been going on for a while. I'd retire it, but that'd be pointless too...I wouldn't want to have nowhere to blab when I feel like it.

...and, when I can't organize a complete thought, it's frustrating...and here I am. Today, I looked at my hands and realized that all the scars that I've acquired in the past year aren't going anywhere...ever. I guess that's why they're really scars.

I've got my favorite: the "quick grab it outta the oven, that swordfish's way over-done!" left-forearm tag...this one's about two inches long...(if only I had an OveGlove!)

..and my least favorite: the "ok, I'm just about ready to check out...just let me clean this chef's knife really quick...OH DEAR GOD, NO!" right index finger cut/scar...I'm not really sure how to categorize this one. It's been over a month since the initial injury and it STILL hurts...like, significantly...like whenever it's brushed, I can feel it and it makes me cringe...like, whenever I put ANY pressure on it, I whimper...um, I don't think this is going away.

...and while I thought about...yes, it's true, I was thinking...I do this sometimes....about things. I was thinking about how I'm *seriously* applying to the Peace Corp...how I'm barely working at my current part-time job but I have a slew of ideas for other jobs being thrown my way...how QP was drinkin' some Mississippi stuff this evening and talked about moving to Austin...how the girl, who swore UP AND DOWN over and over again, for OVER A MONTH that she was going to move into my house...bailed on me last night....AND how nothing is really causing me any stress in the current moment.

...except for my hand scars and their unfading presence.