I've been very seriously considering getting a handheld voice recorder. As of two seconds ago, I mean, when I sat down to write this and could physically feel the words leaking out of me and into the parts of the room I can't reach. My brain spends all day long making observations and pinning words to the observations it makes instead of doing whatever it's supposed to be doing, and if I could whisper those strung-together words into a tiny box that would remember them for me then maybe this stupid blog would have more content. And maybe I'd have journals filled with thoughts instead of lots of blank books laying around as reminders of how poorly managed my financial expenditures are. I understand that even the most basic of cell phones has this capability now, but I think I need it to feel old-timey. I think it will help with the process. The other thing I think will help with the process is to remember that it is a process, and that I don't necessarily have control over when it happens. What I do have control over is capturing it when it does happen. I'm so sorry, I lost myself at "whisper words into a tiny box." 

"In fact, it seems to me that most of the mistakes I make in personal relationships, most of the times in which I fail to be of help to other individuals, can be accounted for in terms of the fact that I have, for some defensive reason, behaved in one way at a surface level, while in reality my feelings run in a contrary direction." 

Carl Rogers, On Becoming a Person 

The universe is smart. Also it has night vision and IT SEES YOU. IT SEES WHAT YOU ARE DOING. And no matter how much you nod and smile and go along with things that don't actually feel good to you, that actually are slowly eating away at all your favorite inside parts, the universe knows the truth. I confess that I'm tired of feeling guilty and/or worried about faceless, made-up things and so have turned to women on the internet with soothing voices and elaborate background music to talk me through vibrational matching while I wash dishes. 

I've also started actually using the worksheet my friend gave me while they were getting their millionth degree in Making People Feel Better, the one about deconstructing anxious thoughts and negative self-talk. You know, the one that an actual smart person in real life suggested might be beneficial that I promptly shoved into a book and forgot about for months and months and months until a strange lady streaming footage of her face to the tune of Enigma reminded me of it? That one. Of course by "actually started using" I mean I dug it out and smoothed out most of the wrinkles and thought vaguely about using my boss's toner to make copies of it. And then congratulated myself for utilizing a source of stress as an instrument in managing stress. And then had a fantasy about the book deal I'll probably be offered pretty soon re: my thoughts on how life works.  

My Christmas tree cost $9.99 and I feel like I overpaid. I also feel smart and thrifty, because I decorated it with ribbons we had from the Mexico-Jamaica game in Philly this summer and the flowers I wore in my hair on Halloween. 

Another thing I feel really smart about is sneaking Chapstick into places where unsealed Chapstick isn't allowed. In fact, I'm considering becoming a professional Chapstick mule since I'm so good at it. If only this skill could be applied to something more lucrative. OH WELL.

I wasn't kidding about the handheld recorder, folks. Starting tomorrow I am a tiny box whisperer, and then maybe Sunday Confessions will be less rambly and nonsensical/not be the only posts I write ever. MAYBE.