Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Amendments to the Previous List
Amendments:
#1 is actually that this special someone must love the big guy upstairs. There is a certain grounded energy that comes from people deeply rooted in God. You can totally disagree but it's now my numba 1!
The item formerly known as #4 (now #5) can also be changed to include an enormous sense of humor in lieu of creative expression. I am starting to think both are equally healing in terms of creating a release for us common folk.
Anyway, hope all is well!
#1 is actually that this special someone must love the big guy upstairs. There is a certain grounded energy that comes from people deeply rooted in God. You can totally disagree but it's now my numba 1!
The item formerly known as #4 (now #5) can also be changed to include an enormous sense of humor in lieu of creative expression. I am starting to think both are equally healing in terms of creating a release for us common folk.
Anyway, hope all is well!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I write very eloquent entries in my sleep.
It's true.
Well, I've finally made a list. A mental one at least. You know, like the list. The list of things, qualities will you, deemed necessary in potential suitors. It's much more simple than I thought it would have been. I guess that has to do with the fact that I'm compiling this list of traits at 22 years young, and not 15. Anyone who thinks the simpler times occurred in their youth is lying. Childhood is serious. Anyway, here's my list- or what I can remember of it at least. I guess if I ever have to join match.com all I'll have to do is copy and paste.
1. You must be kind... Like ferociously kind.
Oxymoron? Yes. Rare? Totally. Number one on my list for a reason? You bet your bottom dollar, kid! I will never again date anyone who isn't exceptionally kind. It won't work. Note: Having kind eyes boosts your kindness rating but the insides must match that outpouring of kindness via orbital region.
2. You have to at least kind of think of the future.
Yea. I said it. I'm not getting any younger, people. Just kidding, I'm turning 17 next month! But really... I don't mean you have to throw out wedding dates upon our 3rd hang out, I just mean you have to be going somewhere. It's vague, I know, but it's supposed to be. You just can't be a bum. You have to have held down some kind of employment at some point in your life. You can't be sucking off the parental tit. You must have goals, more importantly dreams, and most importantly drive and discipline to help you arrive at both those destinations.
3. You must have the ability to pry my white knuckled fists off of being the boss lady.
Yea. I said it. Again. I'm type A. Heeeey! Type A in the house! Luckily, some well timed (or poorly timed) jokes will do the trick... So maybe #3 should be a plea for a generally humorous attitude toward most, if not all, circumstances. Whaterr. How not type A of me to care.
4. You must subscribe to some form of creative expression as a release for both life in general and the pain this world causes (mentally or otherwise).
Trust me.
5. You must like me and/or find me the least bit charming and/or humorous and/or special and/or enjoyable to be around.
I figure if you like this curly headed broad, you won't go a-traveling to find yourself another. As much as I enjoy regular episodes of Sister Wives, I wouldn't jump on the polygamy bandwagon. I've also seen Cheaters. It scares me. So I'd like to avoid any reason to be on that show. My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding however...
Listen people, this list is incomplete. I can't remember all of the great things I wrote inside my noggin before falling asleep last night. I'm sure they'll come back to me. Feel free to add to the list.
Well, I've finally made a list. A mental one at least. You know, like the list. The list of things, qualities will you, deemed necessary in potential suitors. It's much more simple than I thought it would have been. I guess that has to do with the fact that I'm compiling this list of traits at 22 years young, and not 15. Anyone who thinks the simpler times occurred in their youth is lying. Childhood is serious. Anyway, here's my list- or what I can remember of it at least. I guess if I ever have to join match.com all I'll have to do is copy and paste.
1. You must be kind... Like ferociously kind.
Oxymoron? Yes. Rare? Totally. Number one on my list for a reason? You bet your bottom dollar, kid! I will never again date anyone who isn't exceptionally kind. It won't work. Note: Having kind eyes boosts your kindness rating but the insides must match that outpouring of kindness via orbital region.
2. You have to at least kind of think of the future.
Yea. I said it. I'm not getting any younger, people. Just kidding, I'm turning 17 next month! But really... I don't mean you have to throw out wedding dates upon our 3rd hang out, I just mean you have to be going somewhere. It's vague, I know, but it's supposed to be. You just can't be a bum. You have to have held down some kind of employment at some point in your life. You can't be sucking off the parental tit. You must have goals, more importantly dreams, and most importantly drive and discipline to help you arrive at both those destinations.
3. You must have the ability to pry my white knuckled fists off of being the boss lady.
Yea. I said it. Again. I'm type A. Heeeey! Type A in the house! Luckily, some well timed (or poorly timed) jokes will do the trick... So maybe #3 should be a plea for a generally humorous attitude toward most, if not all, circumstances. Whaterr. How not type A of me to care.
4. You must subscribe to some form of creative expression as a release for both life in general and the pain this world causes (mentally or otherwise).
Trust me.
5. You must like me and/or find me the least bit charming and/or humorous and/or special and/or enjoyable to be around.
I figure if you like this curly headed broad, you won't go a-traveling to find yourself another. As much as I enjoy regular episodes of Sister Wives, I wouldn't jump on the polygamy bandwagon. I've also seen Cheaters. It scares me. So I'd like to avoid any reason to be on that show. My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding however...
Listen people, this list is incomplete. I can't remember all of the great things I wrote inside my noggin before falling asleep last night. I'm sure they'll come back to me. Feel free to add to the list.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Oh, hello.
Hello.
How are you?
I'm well.
How's your dog?
How's your mom?
Is your favorite color still the same?
Is your middle name still the same?
Oh, hold on I have another call. Hey, it's my mom. Can I call you back.
Kay. Bye.
How are you?
I'm well.
How's your dog?
How's your mom?
Is your favorite color still the same?
Is your middle name still the same?
Oh, hold on I have another call. Hey, it's my mom. Can I call you back.
Kay. Bye.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Chasers, they gonna chase.
So turns out I am a feeling chaser of sorts. My brain is a little congested, thought-wise not sinus-wise, and I took to thinking bout why that is. I don't have a definite answer as of yet. I mean it's, like, kind of a hard thing to figure out. I have feelings as to why or how this could be... I'm probably chasing them too.
The concept that inspiration is fleeting makes me fret hardcore. Like, woah.
Even though it's a fleeting fox, maybe there's enough of it to seem consistent? Maybe there's enough inspiration- of all kinds- to feed my little feeling speedometer. No, I'm asking.
Alls I'm saying is, the whole congestion, feeling chasing, inspiration needing phenomena are probably interconnected. They are at least second cousins. Feeling chasing may have been married in.
So how do you de-congest? I would like some mental Drano. Please? I feel like I'm floating- not in the SO COOL way. Not in the almost flying way. I'm just unable to touch the ground completely. I'm skimming through, not fully landing on a thing, just clearing everything on my path, by a hair.
Maybe it's a little bit of fear. The not wanting to connect to the web of interconnectedness.
Maybe it's focus. A focus that has landed far too selfishly on the future and forgot about its little sister, the present.
Oh, boy. I don't really know.
The concept that inspiration is fleeting makes me fret hardcore. Like, woah.
Even though it's a fleeting fox, maybe there's enough of it to seem consistent? Maybe there's enough inspiration- of all kinds- to feed my little feeling speedometer. No, I'm asking.
Alls I'm saying is, the whole congestion, feeling chasing, inspiration needing phenomena are probably interconnected. They are at least second cousins. Feeling chasing may have been married in.
So how do you de-congest? I would like some mental Drano. Please? I feel like I'm floating- not in the SO COOL way. Not in the almost flying way. I'm just unable to touch the ground completely. I'm skimming through, not fully landing on a thing, just clearing everything on my path, by a hair.
Maybe it's a little bit of fear. The not wanting to connect to the web of interconnectedness.
Maybe it's focus. A focus that has landed far too selfishly on the future and forgot about its little sister, the present.
Oh, boy. I don't really know.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Oh also look
Far far, there's this little girl
She was praying for something to happen to her
Everyday she writes words and more words
Just to speak out the thoughts that keep floating inside
And she's strong when the dreams come cos' they
Take her, cover her, they are all over
The reality looks far now, but don't go
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
Oh oh oh oh
Far far, there's this little girl
She was praying for something good to happen to her
From time to time there're colors and shapes
Dazzling her eyes, tickling her hands
They invent her a new world with
Oil skies and aquarel rivers
But don't you run away already
Please don't go oh oh
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
How an you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
Take a deep breath and dive
There's a beautiful mess inside
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess
Beautiful mess inside
Oh beautiful, beautiful
Far far there's this little girl
She was praying for something big to happen to her
Every night she ears beautiful strange music
It's everywhere there's nowhere to hide
But if it fades she begs
"Oh lord don't take it from me, don't take it yourselves"
I guess I'll have to give it birth
To give it birth
I guess, i guess, i guess i have to give it birth
I guess i have to, have to give it birth
There's a beautiful mess inside and it's everywhere
So shake it yourself now deep inside
Deeper than you ever dared
Deeper than you ever dared
There's a beautiful mess inside
Beautiful mess inside
She was praying for something to happen to her
Everyday she writes words and more words
Just to speak out the thoughts that keep floating inside
And she's strong when the dreams come cos' they
Take her, cover her, they are all over
The reality looks far now, but don't go
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
Oh oh oh oh
Far far, there's this little girl
She was praying for something good to happen to her
From time to time there're colors and shapes
Dazzling her eyes, tickling her hands
They invent her a new world with
Oil skies and aquarel rivers
But don't you run away already
Please don't go oh oh
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
How an you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess inside
Take a deep breath and dive
There's a beautiful mess inside
How can you stay outside?
There's a beautiful mess
Beautiful mess inside
Oh beautiful, beautiful
Far far there's this little girl
She was praying for something big to happen to her
Every night she ears beautiful strange music
It's everywhere there's nowhere to hide
But if it fades she begs
"Oh lord don't take it from me, don't take it yourselves"
I guess I'll have to give it birth
To give it birth
I guess, i guess, i guess i have to give it birth
I guess i have to, have to give it birth
There's a beautiful mess inside and it's everywhere
So shake it yourself now deep inside
Deeper than you ever dared
Deeper than you ever dared
There's a beautiful mess inside
Beautiful mess inside
Just another night out on the town
Hey.
So I was watching OWN -(which is Oprah's new network for those of you living under or in large rocks or trees) I kid I kid- and there was this documentary style show on called Lisa Ling's Our America or something of that nature. It was really amazing. She has a very open and generous heart that is apparent in her work, especially with people who go against the "norm" or are generally despised in some way. Anywho, every episode explores some facet of Our America- whatever that means. This one was about faith healers. I highly recommend that you watch it. There's a lot I could talk about after seeing that show, but it was one of her last comments in her narration that made my tummy feel funny so let's talk about that. She said that there is no real false hope. That's like an onomatopoeia of an oxymoron. But really, what if that's true? All hope is valid because hope is hope. False hope doesn't exist because it still has the same effects of real hope. So what's real and what's false? Maybe in trying to deny certain kinds of hope you're just putting your hope into a smaller and smaller box. Don't limit hope. Maybe don't define false and real? Maybe define it.
It just kind of made me feel strange thinking that there is no placebo effect for hope (or it's all a placebo effect for you glorious cynics out there). It's so black and white, you know? If you believe it, it's there. If you don't, it's not. I can't think of anything more black and whiter. Besides faith (hope and charity- not charity but it's too hard to refrain from saying when you throw the other two out there). That was a really great to, too, two example sentence.
I'm really tired.
Oh also, I feel really cool when my Pandora stations give me music by artists whose lyrics aren't even online. I am SO indie.
So I was watching OWN -(which is Oprah's new network for those of you living under or in large rocks or trees) I kid I kid- and there was this documentary style show on called Lisa Ling's Our America or something of that nature. It was really amazing. She has a very open and generous heart that is apparent in her work, especially with people who go against the "norm" or are generally despised in some way. Anywho, every episode explores some facet of Our America- whatever that means. This one was about faith healers. I highly recommend that you watch it. There's a lot I could talk about after seeing that show, but it was one of her last comments in her narration that made my tummy feel funny so let's talk about that. She said that there is no real false hope. That's like an onomatopoeia of an oxymoron. But really, what if that's true? All hope is valid because hope is hope. False hope doesn't exist because it still has the same effects of real hope. So what's real and what's false? Maybe in trying to deny certain kinds of hope you're just putting your hope into a smaller and smaller box. Don't limit hope. Maybe don't define false and real? Maybe define it.
It just kind of made me feel strange thinking that there is no placebo effect for hope (or it's all a placebo effect for you glorious cynics out there). It's so black and white, you know? If you believe it, it's there. If you don't, it's not. I can't think of anything more black and whiter. Besides faith (hope and charity- not charity but it's too hard to refrain from saying when you throw the other two out there). That was a really great to, too, two example sentence.
I'm really tired.
Oh also, I feel really cool when my Pandora stations give me music by artists whose lyrics aren't even online. I am SO indie.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
And closely related...
"And that's the day I realized there was this entire life behind things, and... this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever."
Sparknote version of the previous post.
Sparknote version of the previous post.
Dis come bob you late.
I’d really like a big dose of clarity. Life clouds instincts and instincts are denied. There is peace is letting go- even though I can’t seem to get there. I am disappointed in my never being strong enough to change/help/or fully encourage another human being, but I realize now that no one has that power over anyone else. So I guess I'm not disappointed. Tis' life.
There is value in this. This is not quitting. This is acknowledging my limits. My inability to help you change and a not wanting to ruin something so beautiful in the process. Sometimes patience is a big bitch to have and to hold. There is no denial of the passionate bits, the connectedness beyond the daily grind, and the spiritual boundaries that blend at the seam which we very carefully crafted between our souls. It’s all very beautiful at its core. Too beautiful. We weren’t ready for it. We aren’t now. Trust it, don’t move it yourself.
If we are eternal beings, if these are eternal ties, why worry about timing now? We need to get back to our truths, our cores, and our instincts. I don’t really know what’s real anymore. That’s kind of sad. So I’m going to fix it. You can too. I’m going to stop denying every instinct that I don’t want to face, act on, or deal with. I don’t what that looks like, but I’ll try it.
The scary factor increases exponentially when you realize the grand magic between two people. The significant figures increase when you have to make a choice between holding on to moments that have passed for encouragement or trust that distance and learning and a knowing that we are OK as individuals will revive a lost romance in the future.
See, it’s still really beautiful.
Our faith in God rested solely in each other so of course we failed each other constantly. We need to adjust, realign, learn the next steps, and trust. Trust that this is God’s way of waking us up and making us count of Him, not each other anymore. We can’t worship a relationship because the core of it is essentially perfect. We have to look up sometimes. Trust that God won’t leave us hanging. If we truly work hard at living lovingly and honestly, we won’t be left to find a lesser version of this connectedness- whether in a muted version of what we should have been (like it was) or in other people. Does that make sense? We will always have this passionate connectedness (with or without each other) if we do our homework. If we really try hard.
There is value in this. This is not quitting. This is acknowledging my limits. My inability to help you change and a not wanting to ruin something so beautiful in the process. Sometimes patience is a big bitch to have and to hold. There is no denial of the passionate bits, the connectedness beyond the daily grind, and the spiritual boundaries that blend at the seam which we very carefully crafted between our souls. It’s all very beautiful at its core. Too beautiful. We weren’t ready for it. We aren’t now. Trust it, don’t move it yourself.
If we are eternal beings, if these are eternal ties, why worry about timing now? We need to get back to our truths, our cores, and our instincts. I don’t really know what’s real anymore. That’s kind of sad. So I’m going to fix it. You can too. I’m going to stop denying every instinct that I don’t want to face, act on, or deal with. I don’t what that looks like, but I’ll try it.
The scary factor increases exponentially when you realize the grand magic between two people. The significant figures increase when you have to make a choice between holding on to moments that have passed for encouragement or trust that distance and learning and a knowing that we are OK as individuals will revive a lost romance in the future.
See, it’s still really beautiful.
Our faith in God rested solely in each other so of course we failed each other constantly. We need to adjust, realign, learn the next steps, and trust. Trust that this is God’s way of waking us up and making us count of Him, not each other anymore. We can’t worship a relationship because the core of it is essentially perfect. We have to look up sometimes. Trust that God won’t leave us hanging. If we truly work hard at living lovingly and honestly, we won’t be left to find a lesser version of this connectedness- whether in a muted version of what we should have been (like it was) or in other people. Does that make sense? We will always have this passionate connectedness (with or without each other) if we do our homework. If we really try hard.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Space Jams
"...like a shooting star, he shines" is a line from Ordinary Day by Vanessa Carlton. That lady is of magic. I feel as lame for listening to the occasional Vanessa Carlton jam as I do for the occasional rocking out to the Wicked soundtrack. Then again, I feel lame for neither. Sometimes you have to belt popular with full Toddlers in Tiaras facial expression in order to start the day out on the right foot.
When I said that I suck at a lot of things in the last post, I simply meant that I realize I have much to learn in this little game called life. I don't actually think I suck at a lot of things. That was a generalization. So you agree... You think you're really pretty? That was a quote from Mean Girls.
Anyway, I have to get up pretty early but I just wanted to say hi. Sometimes I get really excited before I go to bed because Jenn Bunny is coming up to visit tomorrow and I can't wait to see her, and I get to have such precious times with the buddies, and life is really grand even when it's tumultuous. There's just a lot of hope in new beginnings and refreshed middles and happy endings. That sounds like the massage menu at a Vietnamese "Truckers welcome" spa. Cutesies!
When I said that I suck at a lot of things in the last post, I simply meant that I realize I have much to learn in this little game called life. I don't actually think I suck at a lot of things. That was a generalization. So you agree... You think you're really pretty? That was a quote from Mean Girls.
Anyway, I have to get up pretty early but I just wanted to say hi. Sometimes I get really excited before I go to bed because Jenn Bunny is coming up to visit tomorrow and I can't wait to see her, and I get to have such precious times with the buddies, and life is really grand even when it's tumultuous. There's just a lot of hope in new beginnings and refreshed middles and happy endings. That sounds like the massage menu at a Vietnamese "Truckers welcome" spa. Cutesies!
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Speaking Only Consonants
I suck at a lot of things. Being human is beautiful and awful and clunky and I hate it and I love it. I suck at returning calls or texts in a timely matter unless you tell me that it bugs you a lot. Then I get really good at it. I suck at crawling out of my own little bubble when I'm sad. It happens and I detach and hide. I don't like it so I'm changing it but when I disappear just know I'm sitting in my room stuck in my own head. It's not sad. It's just life. When I get nervous I can only think about what is making me nervous. I temporarily paralyze myself in that way.
There is a sense of wholeness and well-being in feeling. I hated being numb but I think that numb comes from a natural buildup of residual damage from life events. It sucks not having anesthesia in life. It's like constantly getting your wisdom teeth out without the laughing gas and Novocaine but it's a different kind of high- like a true high. I feel things. I get the opportunity to connect with people that I may have avoided in the past and whether or not I take the chance to connect is my choice but I see the value in it now. The beauty in others is astounding. So what? You think this is sappy? Get over it. Just kidding. I'm really grateful. My head wants to explode with gratitude, sparkles, and crazy. It's all going to be okay.
Oh, and I think this is important too. It's from American Beauty. I fell in love with that movie when I saw it as a kid, even though I had no idea how to relate to it (in terms of the conventional definition of relate). I've always been drawn toward things that make my tummy feel funny and this movie does just that- as did my mom's going fast over the big hilly roads up north until she got a speeding ticket because I kept asking her to go faster.
"I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined our street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."
In totally unrelated news: It's a blip, not even a bump, and certainly not a roadblock.
There is a sense of wholeness and well-being in feeling. I hated being numb but I think that numb comes from a natural buildup of residual damage from life events. It sucks not having anesthesia in life. It's like constantly getting your wisdom teeth out without the laughing gas and Novocaine but it's a different kind of high- like a true high. I feel things. I get the opportunity to connect with people that I may have avoided in the past and whether or not I take the chance to connect is my choice but I see the value in it now. The beauty in others is astounding. So what? You think this is sappy? Get over it. Just kidding. I'm really grateful. My head wants to explode with gratitude, sparkles, and crazy. It's all going to be okay.
Oh, and I think this is important too. It's from American Beauty. I fell in love with that movie when I saw it as a kid, even though I had no idea how to relate to it (in terms of the conventional definition of relate). I've always been drawn toward things that make my tummy feel funny and this movie does just that- as did my mom's going fast over the big hilly roads up north until she got a speeding ticket because I kept asking her to go faster.
"I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined our street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."
In totally unrelated news: It's a blip, not even a bump, and certainly not a roadblock.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Captain Vating
Some people are really captivating. The following blog contains subliminal messages for two reasons (or more):
1. Subliminal messages are noncommittal.
2. I'm kind of using the word "subliminal" wrong.
3. This is going to be more like those articles and books that change the real names and locations and dates due to privacy or some impending doom that will immediately rear its ugly head upon revealing the real names and locations and dates.
4. Said doom is probably more similar to embarrassment as a result of telling the truth. Truth meaning life as I see it now.
5. I'm kind of using the word "embarrassment" wrong.
6. Does anyone read my blog? I wonder sometimes. Not in a bad way or in a way I think people should or should not read it... I just mean I really wonder if anyone ever notices it.
7. Let me know if you read my blog. Even if you're a random. I read a lot of blogs. I probably wouldn't tell the people who wrote them though. I wouldn't want them to think I'm a weird one. So if you don't want to, you don't have to tell me.
8. If you do tell me, I promise I won't think you're weird.
Now that we've cleared that up, let the fun begin...
It's a lot of pressure to start a blog with some sort of implication that it will be fun. Just being honest. Standards.
Idea! I'm going to write my subliminal-embarrassment-date-name-location-messages as letters! Letters are like messages. Letters are messages.
Dear Person A,
Stop making me put more epic than not feelings into text messages. It's getting annoying. No one wants to change you. Your perception of people perceiving you in a correctly perceptive manner is not real. Nothing is real. No one will get you. No one claims to. Stop putting walls up or you will miss out on something special. You will learn from other people (even the dumb ones). Don't be the dumb one.
That said, you have a beautiful, wonderful, sunshiney soul. In truth, you're more turquoise/teal even though I want to be those colors and I'm more yellow/orange/red even though you want to be more those colors. If we swapped life lessons, we'd probably fill in all the gaps. Isn't that a pretty thought? I know you are thinking that right now. You're thinking "that's a pretty thought!". Double punctuation seems incorrect but I don't care sucka!
You told me to write a blog. The funny thing is I started this 20 seconds before you sent that in a message. I almost sent a little something back but I decided I'd mention it here instead. Sometimes I think we are more like one unit. We serve different functions but separated we're just a little useless. Together we fight for independence. Like we must define the line which separates us. We must prove it's there just to talk about how it's not there. Don't fight it anymore. It exists. We're just as much dependent as independent. We're a little bit country and a little bit rock n' roll. I don't really know what that means for you or for me. I'm just writing you a subliminal message to do with what you will. You're lovely and you know that. Somewhere deep down in that ever-changing turquoise/teal heart of yours, you know how this works, you know how everything fits, you know how very beautiful your soul is and will be forever and ever. Stop fighting everything!!!!!! STOPPPPPPPP!!!!! See, you're captivating.
Sincerely,
Person C
***Standby for another message from our sponsor! Only you can prevent forest fires. No pressure.***
Dear Person B,
You too are of the teal nature. Though that would not seem to be your obvious color choice. You have a magnetic energy and sometimes I think "Hmmm why am I drawn to certain people"... I'm still thinking. OK, I give up. Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking. I just go person by person thinking what I'm thinking they're thinking and it's easy... until I get to you. I want to know you're story. Oh! That would be a good pick up line! Gentlemen take note, I just made up a new pickup line for you. Although, it may be gently used as I do not already know if it exists. I would like to know everyone's story, but especially yours. See, I had this goal/dream/whatever label you'd like to throw at it of meeting every single person in the world. Like legitimately meeting every single person in the world face-to-face and saying hi. In some language. When I grew older and slightly more realistic at the tender age of 12ish, I realized how extensive this mass introduction would be so I narrowed it down a little and changed it to meeting every single person in the US of A. More doable. I think the little self version of you had a similar goal- maybe the same one. I don't know why I'm rambling. Thinking about talking to you makes me ramble. In my head. Or in my blog. I just think about all the stuff I want to ask you because for some reason I've already decided that you have this incredible store of knowledge and wonderful stories that I would like to dip into. You have a very calm heart. So that's it. You're magnetic and beautiful and colorful, thus captivating.
Sincerely,
Person C
Okay, thanks for listening. Reading, rather. Let me know if you read this. You can reply anonymously I believe. Oh how different life would be if we were able to act anonymously more often. Don't worry about who these letters are to- suck any truth or non-truth out of them and throw the rest out into the universe.
Bye!
1. Subliminal messages are noncommittal.
2. I'm kind of using the word "subliminal" wrong.
3. This is going to be more like those articles and books that change the real names and locations and dates due to privacy or some impending doom that will immediately rear its ugly head upon revealing the real names and locations and dates.
4. Said doom is probably more similar to embarrassment as a result of telling the truth. Truth meaning life as I see it now.
5. I'm kind of using the word "embarrassment" wrong.
6. Does anyone read my blog? I wonder sometimes. Not in a bad way or in a way I think people should or should not read it... I just mean I really wonder if anyone ever notices it.
7. Let me know if you read my blog. Even if you're a random. I read a lot of blogs. I probably wouldn't tell the people who wrote them though. I wouldn't want them to think I'm a weird one. So if you don't want to, you don't have to tell me.
8. If you do tell me, I promise I won't think you're weird.
Now that we've cleared that up, let the fun begin...
It's a lot of pressure to start a blog with some sort of implication that it will be fun. Just being honest. Standards.
Idea! I'm going to write my subliminal-embarrassment-date-name-location-messages as letters! Letters are like messages. Letters are messages.
Dear Person A,
Stop making me put more epic than not feelings into text messages. It's getting annoying. No one wants to change you. Your perception of people perceiving you in a correctly perceptive manner is not real. Nothing is real. No one will get you. No one claims to. Stop putting walls up or you will miss out on something special. You will learn from other people (even the dumb ones). Don't be the dumb one.
That said, you have a beautiful, wonderful, sunshiney soul. In truth, you're more turquoise/teal even though I want to be those colors and I'm more yellow/orange/red even though you want to be more those colors. If we swapped life lessons, we'd probably fill in all the gaps. Isn't that a pretty thought? I know you are thinking that right now. You're thinking "that's a pretty thought!". Double punctuation seems incorrect but I don't care sucka!
You told me to write a blog. The funny thing is I started this 20 seconds before you sent that in a message. I almost sent a little something back but I decided I'd mention it here instead. Sometimes I think we are more like one unit. We serve different functions but separated we're just a little useless. Together we fight for independence. Like we must define the line which separates us. We must prove it's there just to talk about how it's not there. Don't fight it anymore. It exists. We're just as much dependent as independent. We're a little bit country and a little bit rock n' roll. I don't really know what that means for you or for me. I'm just writing you a subliminal message to do with what you will. You're lovely and you know that. Somewhere deep down in that ever-changing turquoise/teal heart of yours, you know how this works, you know how everything fits, you know how very beautiful your soul is and will be forever and ever. Stop fighting everything!!!!!! STOPPPPPPPP!!!!! See, you're captivating.
Sincerely,
Person C
***Standby for another message from our sponsor! Only you can prevent forest fires. No pressure.***
Dear Person B,
You too are of the teal nature. Though that would not seem to be your obvious color choice. You have a magnetic energy and sometimes I think "Hmmm why am I drawn to certain people"... I'm still thinking. OK, I give up. Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking. I just go person by person thinking what I'm thinking they're thinking and it's easy... until I get to you. I want to know you're story. Oh! That would be a good pick up line! Gentlemen take note, I just made up a new pickup line for you. Although, it may be gently used as I do not already know if it exists. I would like to know everyone's story, but especially yours. See, I had this goal/dream/whatever label you'd like to throw at it of meeting every single person in the world. Like legitimately meeting every single person in the world face-to-face and saying hi. In some language. When I grew older and slightly more realistic at the tender age of 12ish, I realized how extensive this mass introduction would be so I narrowed it down a little and changed it to meeting every single person in the US of A. More doable. I think the little self version of you had a similar goal- maybe the same one. I don't know why I'm rambling. Thinking about talking to you makes me ramble. In my head. Or in my blog. I just think about all the stuff I want to ask you because for some reason I've already decided that you have this incredible store of knowledge and wonderful stories that I would like to dip into. You have a very calm heart. So that's it. You're magnetic and beautiful and colorful, thus captivating.
Sincerely,
Person C
Okay, thanks for listening. Reading, rather. Let me know if you read this. You can reply anonymously I believe. Oh how different life would be if we were able to act anonymously more often. Don't worry about who these letters are to- suck any truth or non-truth out of them and throw the rest out into the universe.
Bye!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Fond Curly Headed Memories
With all of the recent meditative energy flowing out of my soul as of late, I have begun looking back on fond childhood memories and instances that forever changed me. One of these moments was the day my mother introduced me to conditioner. Maybe it has to do with my being up north that spurred the thought of this changing day- as this day occurred in our late up north cabin right next door to our more recently built up north house. Whatever it is, I feel the need to share it for several reasons. First, I'm still a little bitter that my mom held off on introducing me (a tangled headed darling) to such an innovative product- I was already nearing 5. Secondly, life-changing moments where the world suddenly made a little more sense are rare and should be reflected upon, as they probably helped to build you into the person you are today.
The day started like any other. It was summertime and I had just spent a long afternoon building retirement sandcastle communities for minnows and small frogs that crossed my path on the beach. As it grew nearer to the dinner hour, I retreated back to our cabin. Though weary from a day of construction, I immediately jumped in the shower due to a very real fear of developing some form of swimmer's itch (there's always a lot of goose poop in Walloon Lake- adds to the charm). Because of my young age - though I was remarkably mature- my mother assisted me. Noticing how wretched my hair had become she grabbed a bottle of something that I had never seen before. It was conditioner. In an instant after applying, there was not a tangle to be found. I was impressed. More than impressed. I wanted more. It was magic. A miracle! Unfortunately, my mother told me to use it sparingly. Yea right. I used globs of it as soon as my bathing was no longer supervised. I still do. It’s still a miracle.
The day started like any other. It was summertime and I had just spent a long afternoon building retirement sandcastle communities for minnows and small frogs that crossed my path on the beach. As it grew nearer to the dinner hour, I retreated back to our cabin. Though weary from a day of construction, I immediately jumped in the shower due to a very real fear of developing some form of swimmer's itch (there's always a lot of goose poop in Walloon Lake- adds to the charm). Because of my young age - though I was remarkably mature- my mother assisted me. Noticing how wretched my hair had become she grabbed a bottle of something that I had never seen before. It was conditioner. In an instant after applying, there was not a tangle to be found. I was impressed. More than impressed. I wanted more. It was magic. A miracle! Unfortunately, my mother told me to use it sparingly. Yea right. I used globs of it as soon as my bathing was no longer supervised. I still do. It’s still a miracle.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)