Running on only three hours of sleep
It’s weird that I was so sleepy before driving back to Manda from Laguna, but when we got home to the apartment, I felt wide awake—and I didn’t end up sleeping until 3 a.m. By then, I’ve watched three more episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race season 8 and I’m now down to the finale. Today, since I have this heavy sensation on my nape, a familiar feeling to those with hypertension, I’m seriously tempted to skip CrossFit later. But that would mean working out for three consecutive days to get my money’s worth, so I’m not too keen on that. (The other option is to let it go and just work out twice this week.)
It’s Pa’s birthday today—his phone was alerting with messages constantly, which was nice. I hope they were all birthday greetings.
I feel that the cloud that had been hanging over me over the weekend has lifted and everything’s clearer to me now, emotionally.
After the incident above, it’s the second time in less than a week that I pretended to be straight. What is wrong with me? I could have just easily said that I have a boyfriend—I’m at a hair salon for crying out loud, I was in a safe space—and yet, I still managed to hide in the closet. (I think it’s because my stylist have previously made so many references to my heterosexuality and that I never corrected her; I’m not sure if I’ll still be able to ever correct her later.)
Yup, I got a new haircut. It looked good in the salon—I asked for a side fade. I still haven’t fully checked myself out in the mirror, so I can’t tell if this is a haircut I will like.
Now reading an article by Cathy Horyn on The Cut about a florist-farmer from Seattle, who’s made a huge business out of her small farm. Of course being the ADHD person that I am, I cut my reading to write this entry. (I’ve also followed a few florist Instagram accounts mentioned in the article.) I’ll go back to it now.