Recalibrating mood is much like choosing to be merciful.

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The dress was thrifted from the formal wear section, a nice find of of high quality fabric, fully lined. The modest cut of the neckline allows the interesting and understated tailoring to take center stage.
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As per ever, I rely on a longsleeved Breton striped shirt to render everything casual enough for daytime. Particularly a daytime that garnered zero effort on hair styling, etc.  The shoulders are particularly noteworthy for their rounded, shaped effect.  Metallic, painted disks on the ears are lightweight and fairly impactful.
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From behind, the nice line of a fitted waist and shoulder pads. My husband called it a Star Wars look, which satisfies.
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A full length gown over multiple tights and socks is only the beginning of meeting a deep winter day. Double layered coats, with gold brooch on the trench coat peeking out. Dark lipstick and patterned mittens are easy ways to attend to details.

Since my sadfest yesterday, I realized that I could spy a bit on some of my job applications, and so learned that they are still in review.  Though January, the prime time for academic interviews, careens to a close, I shall be honest in acknowledging that it isn’t yet official that I haven’t been selected for an interview, and so admit that I needn’t jump start the fretting.  I have a few more weeks until I can go about depressing and recalibrating in earnest, like the well-seasoned frustrated optimist I am.

Really what reset my mindset was a triumphant bit of tadasana, mountain pose, followed up by a night of failsafe karaoke action satisfaction.  Posture focused upon an open heart cavity, segueing into torchsinging David Bowie’s “Five Years” seems a proper cure for an overwrought mind overfocused on financials.  Because even if I never never ever not ever land a proper job, there are ample approaches to bettering the world.  Playing the fool, in the tarot style of an unselfconscious walk off a cliff, is a favorite.  Pastimes which court unbridling can free. I also demure it was warm to be commended for my Bowie by an Old Country accented man who when he first came to America in 1970 saw him live as Ziggy Stardust.  There is love for David.

Also, I’ve decided it might help temper the storm of my incessant brain murmurings to write out unsolicited blueprints intended to fix everything, and send them to the plethora of worthy organizations tending toward peace and life on earth.  I can’t help but to think all the time about various ends, and am excited to corral solutions that invariably require mass re-planting into the 6 steps of change outlined by the Climate Justice Alliance.  I suspect all writing creative, akin to the release enabled by art and yoga: keenfocus, non-ego-driven, grown in sincerity.  all I really really want is to sow the good, in gratitude to living.

 

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