Oof, I just ate a big dinner. Soup with black beans, kidney beans, broccoli, zucchini and tomatoes and a big bowl of kale, Brussels Sprouts and marinated golden beets- all with homemade (and improved) Gomasio sprinkled on top. I might go dancing at ten and want to be well fed. I might have overdone it. I'm in my studio now. The little heater is on. I'm reading the Huffington Post but I should really work instead. Spring 2012 is done but not really- patterns need to be adjusted and trued and hems need finishing. But I don't really feel like doing it. I don't know what I feel like doing. And that lack of focus invites confusion and what feels like an identity crisis. It is Saturday night. What do I do- meaning what does an Emily person do? What do I like? How have I spent previous Saturdays? Why does it matter? I am never sure that I am satisfied but I'm pretty confidant that I was in the past. Either I'm delusional or I really am satisfied now (soon to be the past). I saw Luke last night. Jamie and I went to an impressive presentation of John Cage compositions. It was a classy avant-garde affair and I wore heels and slacks and a ballooning nude colored blouse. The outfit gave my body a new shape- high flanked and wide through the middle. I liked it. We spotted him when we were leaving. He was across the street on the corner. He looked like himself. I wanted him to see me and notice how mature I looked. I wanted to run across the street and shake him. But instead Jamie strained to see him without her glasses while I stood, back to him, asking if he was looking. And then we drove away. Have I mentioned that I miss him?

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