Carving out a corner to post random crap.
We all love a gorgeous thing, no? However, it's crass to admit we're attracted to the wrapper. Packaging Makes the Person.
– Sounds like you've already made up your mind …
– Oh sweetie, I'm happy to hear you've finally made up your mind!
Perspective is being counted among the 33% and knowing you need to keep your cakehole shut lest you be labeled a hater.
The things you make define who you are. You do what you do to pay the car note, but don't forget to write notes, play notes. Leave a story behind for others to try on. Thoughts and Words and Actions matter. Just know that what lights you up may hardly start a spark in the people you love. So continue to photograph toes. Keep on studying the history of Pidgin. Build your time machine out of all your other half-assed projects.
In order to let go, you'd have had to have clung to something. Watch what happens when you breathe and unravel your beliefs. This shit is for real. What splendid fertilizer!
Life rewards a certain type of person.
– Fortune favors the bold?
– The meek shall inherit the earth?
– Share and share alike?
– Dumb Luck?
– Look out for #1?
– It's not how you feel but how you look?
Which one is it, Universe? Who's it gonna be?
Because I subscribe to the belief that we know Everything There Is To Know about a person 30-seconds after we meet someone for the first time … appearances count. Who you know is more important than what you know. Reality is Perception. We just need to bloody well make peace with who we are and accept what comes gurgling to the surface once we've turned over enough rocks.
"I heard some singing. Was that you?"
"Stop with the damn whispers in my head, Ort. I'm not listening!"
"Then why did you answer?"
Like every great love affair, we're destined to be doomed.
The dreams of your life create the life of your dreams.
Didn't you hear? Gary's at it again. Back from the dead and doing the laundry. He finally found someone who needs him (to want is to wander and that's a tricky thing to curtail.) A quick catch-you-up: Gary married the counter help from his favorite fast food joint. He went from baby to daddy in six months. That's a hell of a journey, for sure, and required a certain skill set to achieve. Further details to follow.
If you straddle two worlds, what do you do if you've got one leg?
the city sneaks up behind you
tells you what to think
your friends are all scholars
reason why you drown in drink
thoughts not good enough
to protect or entertain
more than a thunderhead
you are the rain
now it's too late to whitewash the wall
you should've lived your rough draft
that was the point of it after all
such freedom
such release
failure brings about a certain kind of peace
Our Highway Scribe wants us to know she's doin' fine (racing thoughts in the fast lane not withstanding … and missing Ort something fierce.)
We know everything about each other after a 30-second assessment. We are surface dwellers.
"That's all I need." "I'll take it." "That works for me." A sentiment along those lines was uttered by O. "You" said you were "ok" with me being "Meh" as opposed to "Despondent." I do recall with more clarity that you said "That's all I need" in reference to my stink eye = "I'm takin' you to task, bucko" not-so-subtle reminder to do more doing and less cud chewing. Yeah – that's all I need. You do drop a lot of subtle flirty-talk. I hear you in my head more than acknowledging the sounds that come out of your mouth. It's more like you whisper in my ear – whether we're talking face-to-face, or you're manning your booth clear across the pavilion (Hey Darla – corn dogs for lunch?) Reckon it's that "Unbreakable Bond" thing. Jesus, how we've danced this mess before.
Lassies, do not fall into the Romance Trap. Repeat after me:
You like flowers?
Grow 'em!
You like jewelry?
Make it!
You like lovey-dovey music?
Sing your own song, loud & often!
Row Manse = A construct of which to steer clear.
But instead of corn dogs, make me some peanut butter toast and a cup of tea and we can stay up all night talking about words. You catch my meaning? This goes way beyond dreaming. Call it an arrangement made with respect to not expecting a goddamn thing.
Happy New Year! Here's what needs some meditation thrown at it: Why is life unfair? I asked a pal to show me the silver lining on a day (yesterday) when one privileged bitch (me) was having a challenging moment (inconsequential office shenanigans.) With disaster smashing the planet, I do not have a right to feel put-upon and bunchy. Even so … Life is Not Fair. Why is that? I have EVERYTHING and yet I complain. Those less fortunate than I am get hammered and trampled in myriad ways. Many have lost what little they had, or are dead, as I scribble these words in a notebook I found on the sidewalk in front of my house. Yeah – I own a house. Grateful, I am, but man if I don't act like a self-absorbed ass half the time. And all the while life is still unfair. There is Sense and Meaning behind the headlines, right? Or are we merely existing inside Virginia's Silver Globe?
As I embark on the transformation to became a vampire, I've been advised by my coven leader to invest in high-quality headphones. 'Tis a sound bit of advice, but I shall use my fake awake time to complete my masterwork.
(Attention reader for whom this Resonates: An eyebrow arched above a pair of horn-rims means The Universe has received your Intention. Loud & Clear, even. Huzzah! You have found Your Voice.)
– Stir the pot. 
– Leave.
– Repeat.
My takeaways from the pep rally are:
1.) Expect a shortened lifespan for having spent so much time on my ass, and;
2.) I stayed for the people.
It is difficult to get all rah-rah-sisboombah about swapping out the signage since Harvey & Irma came to visit.
Think perspective.
Thank your lucky stars.
You are not alone.
The kid who thinks the external world – from mac-n-cheez to thrill rides at the county fair – is put in place by magical mommies/daddies for her sole pleasure grows up to be the woman who questions the reality of the timecard – from cubicle walls to eyeballs gone blurry by the light of the Dell or HP – as she tackles one more corporate demand. From what arts did childish beliefs transform into a velvet yoke?
Semi-Daily Scribbles 