I went to a zen meditation last night. I so do not do the organized thing but I need to do SOMEthing. I guess I can take the post-it off my desk front now. It’s been there for months. It worked out pretty well, actually. There were a couple of people I had met before, older women. They were all very kind and I got invited to a potluck. I’m bringing salad I guess. I want to go to a show that night but I s’pose I can duck* out after an hour.
I’ve been pretty fucking depressed. Part of it was premonsteral, I suppose, then it just takes on a life of its own. I had to talk at this thing, a little; it was mostly silence. Still, I didn’t really know what to say: too much or too little? Those really are my options, cos, well, it is me we’re talking about here. I went with both, first one and then the other. I’m not stressed about it. I sat quietly for a freakishly long time. I didn’t belch or fart. I’m ahead of the game.
*”Ducking for apples– change one letter and you have the story of my life.” Dorothy Parker