Tuesdays aren't the same anymore...

I'm feeling fiesty today.
and considering a picture.
it's still too early to say for sure, but I'll let ya know.
because after all, as we know--
Tuesday gets left out, all too often.
Mondays suck
Wednesdays hump
Thursdays are almost Friday
Friday, for obvious reasons
poor little Tuesday...
and it's one of my favorite days, really.
in the top 7, at least.

yes, I'm a dork, but I believe we've covered that.

I need to plan a really big celebration for my birthday.
something wild and fabulous.
something to divert my attention from the neon flashing signs,
blaring sirens,
and fun house mirrors--
declaring, in a symphony of taunting,
THIRTY.
heh.
I'm totally kidding.
I do want to celebrate it, like I've never celebrated before.
mostly out of gratitude that it's NOT as old as I thought it would be.
just the sound of that word is fresh and cheery, to me.
Thirty.
It's round and soft and lovely.
it's fresh raspberries, still warm from the sun--
and I just realized.
I should be in Maine for this day.
I should be at the ocean, with my oldest friends, my oldest memories--
and higher alcohol percentage in my beer!!!
something to consider, at least.
I dunno.
I need to brainstorm.
It has to be AWESOME.
and I have 81 days.
ooh! I should find one of those count-down thingies for my sidebar!!!

ok, enough of that.

I watched Garden State last night.
it made my heart burst with joy and hope and sighs...
I've been in a love-filled mood lately, anyway--
spring sorta does that to me, I think.
I love movies that aren't the same old shit.
that one felt like it was about real people.
not fucking hollywood.
REAL people.
...even though one of the characters was an actor.
so that's doubly impressive, I guess.
anyway, I don't do reviews.
this was just something I had to say.

blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
I am stuck.
welcome to Rutville, may I interest you in a tour of our city?
oh, no it doesn't cost a thing--
and it lasts all day...

I feel like I am not stepping outside of myself often enough.
I am not pushing boundaries.
I am not being fearless.
maybe that's not possible for me right now.
balancing too many roles--
I reallllly suck at that.
wife, mother, friend...writer??
bah.
whatever.
I thought so, once.
lately I feel like I've turned into an endless sheet of blank canvas...
and I have no paints.
if I were a true artist I would prick my finger, and make red...
I would grab handfuls of grass and grind them into the cloth
but what I really feel like is wrapping myself in that canvas and taking a nap.
I need to write some fiction.
fridays used to be for fantasies,
but I've outgrown that, I think.
It started feeling like a chore,
so I stopped.
maybe I'll hop on the weekly serial bandwagon...

I know what it is!!
I'm censoring myself too much.
that's it, isn't it?
I have cut way back on the sexual content of this site, because of the atmosphere I felt it was creating--
and the discomfort it was causing.
well.
I guess this is something I'll have to work on.
the light came on, just now, as I thought the words, "those are two wagoneers I wouldn't mind hopping on, wink-wink" and then chose not to type them...
so fuck it.
I'm going to try reallllly hard to stop censoring myself.
I'm sure I'll have your support.
heh.
and no, that doesn't mean I'm going to start posting full nudes.
oh!!
but that reminds me!
we watched 1984 a few days ago--
great book, odd movie.
but.
DAAAAAAAAAMN.
hello european films.
what's up, full frontal nudity?
nice to see you.
America sucks.

faaaack.
is it really march 29th??
jesus.
that means it's april.
which means, it'll be shorts weather any minute now.
can someone PLEASE come take ten pounds from me really quick?
come on...you know you want it...
it's all yours.
I'll even throw in a 2 minute long french kiss.
and NO, I don't mean english money, smart asses.
I mean lumpy doughy FAT.
and if anyone dares to tell me i'm not fat, i swear to god, I'll burn this whole site to the ground and never come back.
so just don't, ok?
I also promise to attempt to stop whining about it.
but.
this IS my blog.
MINE.
so if you don't like to listen to women bitch about their spare tire on ocassion, you can just get the fuck out.
now, you'll have to excuse me.
it's time to go have some mid-morning cake.