My brain's imploded, and I don't want to write anything. I am very, very tired of contemplating my navel. Getting out of the habit of hating myself is exhausting, and I'm about ready to throw in the towel for tonight. The stupidest thing is, I had a great night. I had an awesome day of overtime, my next paycheck will be modestly extra, I went out and had fabulous sushi with a friend, and I don't know if I'm happy or despise my existence.

It's a good thing that I already know that I'm broken, or I'd be even more disturbed.

~

When you fire pottery on the beach, you have to remember a few things. Such as the color that driftwood paints the flames, or that large fire pits in the sand do better with a bit of a chimney dug for draft. Don't roast marshmallows if you're adding chemicals. Seaweed effects are not worth the smell. You need a huge amount of wood if you want to melt beach glass on the bisque, and don't place the pit between the surfers and their cars. But most importantly, you might want to call the Fire Department before you start. They get cranky if they only find out by the smoke.