(wanting some kind of swaddling downy comfort for this ride. cause it kind of feels like nothing but abrasion.)

I find I'm disinclined to use personal pronouns these days. I. mostly I. my sentences keep dropping that word out.

I took a lit class from a lady professor in college whose lessons I remember mostly as involving frequent use of the word "agency." that word, just over and over. she was a manic teacher who nurtured a cult following, whose personal eccentricities, charming in the classroom, were unnervingly sad outside of it. I think of her when I think of agency. and I'm thinking about agency and my own life.

there's lots of hands-off-ing. lots of leaving-to-chance.

and cloudy-headed peregrinations, wondering how it'll all turn out.

I often have this thought, and apparently it's a typical thought of people who have a.d.d., that I wish that someone else could live my life instead of me because I think they'd do a better job. as in, it could be so good! if only I were better equipped to do it.