Sometimes, your life seems to dip into a swirling abyss. All you can do is hope for the best while expecting the next whirlpool. Insomnia seems to be ruining my life at the moment. Focusing on anything is impossible, and people simply irritate me by existing. There is never enough time to do anything, and mornings are my worst enemy. There is no energy to supply anything. Ambition, drive, passion, and multi-tasking are all dead. Small things become large things and the sense of failure begins to creep in. It could really make a girl pout.

After an involved weekend, I ventured to an event to learn more about the intimate side of relationships. Upon arrival, a chair received me. Upon my first survey of the room, everyone looked so very sheik and together. However, the Mistress of Ceremonies was certainly a sight to behold. She looked so very pulled together. I even mentioned to her that she looked like the perfect version of someone that has everything going for her. A big happy smile with a gorgeous outfit. It made me rejoice in the middle of my self criticism. She strutted around the room taking questions and inserting spurts of enthusiasm. It was quite charming. As simple as you take it, it really made me think about myself.

There are some changes that need to take place in order for me to maintain myself. While my womb detox is in the process as we speak, my diet is what put it in jeopardy to begin with. My view of food does not see it as fuel for life; I enjoy eating because it tastes good. My favorite meal is dessert. Anything sweet is my cup of tea. This is not in my best interest given that Diabetes runs in my family. My desire to cook is also going with the wind. I want to hire a food delivery service for a little while. Healthy meals would be delivered to my door, and I could stop worrying about providing myself with three meals a day.

Self-employment sits on my mind. Waking up first thing in the morning does not suit me at all. The sun needs to be in the sky for a few hours before my body should be required to leave my bed. Working on my own agenda sounds like a gem, and the possibility of an assistant causes me to grin. Imagining myself as a consultant of sorts intrigues me.

There is no rhyme or reason to the way that I dress. It is not hip, and it is not an outfit that stops traffic. Conservative, hippie, and all black come to mind when thinking about how my attire embraces me. My wardrobe should express more about who I am overall. Sometimes, I try to attach a goal to my outfit. What is the desire result from this combination of fabric? There are other aspects that are missing. How does one bring such things forward? Yes, the consideration of a stylist has been brought to the table where it still remains.

All of these things ran around my mind after settling into the chair. The Mistress of Ceremonies continued her mission of interacting with people while they responded with comments to the questions on the floor. My wine vanished as I blinked.