"Good Sir, You Shot the Rainbow."

...I'm gonna try to keep up a streak of things-said-at-work titles.

This and that:

-MOVING SO SOON. And my awesome roommates-to-be have been (successfully) scavenging furniture, so...we's gonna have an eclectic mess. Fuck. Yeah.

-So, my job. I work at a cupcake bakery (Cupcakery? That a thing?) that also has a shave ice cart. (Mrs. Boss runs the shop, Mr. Boss runs the cart. It's adorable.) There's way too little space for everything and everyone and we fight about leaving unintelligible notes for each other and who gets to pick the music. Basically, we're like newlyweds on a road trip... Except there's eleven of us. And we make cakes. No big deal.

-Today, Mr. Boss was in the walk-in, getting syrup to refill cart stuff, slipped, and took the top shelf with him. What was on the top shelf you ask? Every syrup flavor known to man, milk, and an industrial-size jug of vanilla. It looked like someone had not only murdered the Kool-Aid Man, but massacred his entire family. And as we all heroically ran to his aid...Down we went. Well, 2 more of us did, anyway. Chivalry stains and bruises, yo. Fast forward, 3 of us on the ground,  Mrs. Boss comes back in from running errands, doesn't miss a beat, looks down at us with a perfectly straight face, "...Honey, this is why we can't have nice things." There's a bruise on my knee and a rainbow of carnage on my pants. 

Customers were watching. It was awkward. I'm calling it a bonding experience.

-On a rather different note, people are fascinating. Each person has so much beautiful, weird, wonderful...ness that they bring to the table and it really bums me out when folks feel, I don't know, like they have to be...broken? To be interesting. I'm not quite sure that's what I mean. Incomplete? A lot of people do it, though. I think I do. Maybe. Like, when feeling happy for however long makes you feel almost guilty. Or maybe your problems are the only thing that don't feel trivial...so you hold on to them. Me? I sort of cling to being on edge, restlessness. Finding something that makes me comfortable or feel safe eventually wigs me out. I'm not sure if I'm afraid of losing something that I've come to love and depend on, or it's the thought of not-doing. Like, finding something that makes me feel whole might eventually seem like a kind of trap. Being stuck sounds a lot more dangerous than never finding home. Or something. That got a little off the map. 

What I was going for: A lot of the time, it feels like the negatives are the only things that "matter," so that's what we dwell on, talk about, give power to.

We can make stuff, you know... Really cool stuff.

Let's do that instead.

It'll be okay. It'll be great.