Friday, in ways it’s come too soon but the days have felt long & stretched out this week. But, above all these past 5 working days have left me exhausted like a sore muscle or one of those vague, slow-burning headaches that won’t go away. I’m not complaining, I just need sleep, desperately ; making these translucent sunglasses a curiously unflattering choice. They are some of my favourites but probably best kept for the better rested days, the darkness emphasizes the bags under my eyes, which are bigger and thicker quilted than the Chanel slung across my shoulder. I’ve been boundlessly energetic, frenetic beyond what my intense caffeine intake offers; whizzing through workouts and work projects rather neurotically.
But I always crash and burn, this time quite conveniently with the weekend upon me. My relationship drifted towards the rocks this week too, it seems 6 months is all it takes to rouse emotions angry enough for arguing. I’m alright, I say I am because I don’t want to walk away in the way I usually feel tempted to, I’m holding on, listening to the 1975 and remembering that patience and empathy are enormous virtues I should have more of. This was also the week I hired a cleaner, I’ve never had someone other than my mother clean up after me and that was decades ago, so it was a strange but sweet sensation walking into a pristine apartment I didn’t scrub down myself. I’ve been worrying my tan will fade, that I’m not eating enough protein, foolishing stalking people I shouldn’t on instagram and wondering why the juicer I finally splurged on mysteriously stopped working. Most of the photos I’ve shot for work this week sit abandoned on SD cards scattered around my house, I cannot even bare to look at them, let alone edit them. I don’t why, I think it might be my imminent menstrual cycle, a hated rota in my life that faithfully provides a decline in self-confidence.
One week out of every four, I can hardly look at myself. Being a woman is complicated. At night, I’ve been reading a lot of Fran Lebowitz. I found some film on ebay for my Kodak Instamatic and clumsily attempted some artsy photos of my favourite doors and flower shops, which once developed will probably look hopelessly pretentious. But that’s okay, there is a secret joy in photos I take that stay away from the internet, they come around rarely but I like them because they lack an audience in mind and they don’t insist I look pretty or well dressed. And finally, it’s 6pm, which I cannot quite believe. I’d like to rearrange the house and go to the gym but I’d prefer to run down to where my boyfriend works so we can eat a feast somewhere outside on a terrace and wile away the Friday night hours.