Lost In Translation… The Lost Art of the Spoken Word.

Yesterday was extremely emotional and actually had me in tears by the end of it while writing an email. I’m not sure if it was the contents of the email or if it was just the entire day but I was more than happy today to just have a nice, quiet and relaxing day.

It was, for the most part, but by lunchtime I was in a haze of thoughts that were caused by a dream that was caused by the email and so I drove. I drove through on my current cleansing of thought path. While I was driving I was counting cars of certain makes for some sort of control I suppose. I don’t know. After a while, I just turned my brain off and continued counting because it seemed comforting I guess.

Going back to the office was tough though. All I wanted to do it come home and tap my Friday afternoon nap so that I could look somewhat rested before dinner. You have no idea how much I enjoy that nap. So, the day drug on and on and on and finally 5 o’clock came and I was already through the door.

By the time I got in my front door I was so very ready to dive under the covers and sleep till I couldn’t sleep anymore but my OCD brain just had to re-read the email I’d sent again. After doing that, I put my phone down, rolled to the opposite side of the bed and closed my eyes. My body was finally quiet, now the trick was to get my head there too. But over and over in my head was the same questions that I always asked, “Was it too honest?”, “Does it even matter?”, “Did it make sense?”, “Am I comfortable with that much honesty?”, “Was it mean?”, “Did I upset him?”… On and on and on with the questions until I just past out I guess.

That’s the problem with written word. There’s often times when m BFF will text me something and I’ll text back, “I read that bitchy. Was that bitchy?” She’ll reply with, “No, read it again”. I’ll reread then I’ll take away the emotions that I assumed went with it. There’s too much to be misconstrued when someone read attempting to know you through your words on paper or email. Sometimes the emphasis is on the wrong word and you’re meaning is lost in translation.

By the time I’d woken up, I’d come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. I’ve said some of those things over and over again and they’ll either be understood or they won’t but I can no longer concern myself with the “what if’s” or the “maybe that”, or the “but I should have said”. It’s exhausting, so many things are exhausting right now it’s a wonder that I care to get out of bed at all sometimes. It’s bad when you wish for some sort of threat of a natural disaster just so you can stay home, hide under the covers and not come up for air till the threat is over.

After I finally decided to get up tonight, I sat in my vanity chair and grabbed my brush and looked for appropriate lipstick. Then I realized that I didn’t care. It’s not that I didn’t care to look nice but I didn’t care to try to look nice. For some reason there’s a difference to me. I picked up the reminisce of fallen eyeliner from 10 hours earlier, finger combed my locks and swept on some chapstick. I was having dinner with friends and a drink with another one afterward.

Both were enjoyable or at the very least pleasant and got me out of my head for a while. The friend I went for drinks with kept grabbing my butt. He said he’d always liked my butt but just felt really close to it tonight. That was a weird thing to say but for fear of not having another man touch me there for a while because I don’t care, I let his do it. He seemed to be having some sort of enjoyment out of it.

I then spotted an attractive woman in the corner with her girlfriends and asked if he wanted me to play wing-woman for him. He gave me this strange look and said that he was already with someone, me, and that he wouldn’t be rude. In return I reminded him that it wasn’t a date to make sure he understood that and there was no way he was getting laid by me tonight. He replied with a sad face and said he knew but he was still not about to be an asshole. Props to him for being a respectful gentleman.

That above is what I was talking about the other day. It’s the small things that might seem insignificant but those are the things that we, girls, I remember. It actually made me look at him a bit differently. I won’t tell him that though. Small things guys, remember that. Make a woman feel special, feel connected or feel like there’s moments that are just hers from you and you could have a happy woman most of the time. That’s just a helpful piece of advice.

Came home, not too long ago and did my run even though it was technically Saturday not Friday I still have ran for 20 days straight and hit my steps each day. That I am proud of. The rest of this weekend is kind of up in the air. We’ll see how it pans out. That is all for now. Hope you all have a great weekend.



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