but then I would probably just smell the winds of change,
and man does that stuff reek.
but really, deep breaths are good.
letting your kids nap from 6 until 7:30--
NOT SO GOOD.
they usually go to bed around 7:30.
fucking time change.
changing fuck time?
timing fuck change?
something like that.
Why do I feel like tomrrow should be FRIDAY?
not Fry Day,
or Frye Day...
but the last god damn day of the shit-assed week?
hm?
I think we should all sign a petition and make tomorrow an honorary Friday.
that's what I think.
oh, and for those of you reading this 58 minutes from now--
switch out all the "tomorrow"s in the last paragraph for "today"s.
why?
because I'm anal in some very fucking bizarre ways,
punk.
there are mountains to be climbed.
and so many other things...
things I want to list, but can't.
that, in itself, makes me long to sprout those wings I'm always talking about.
they would be butterfly wings, not bird's wings--
just for the record.
so delicate, so strong--
the result of a metamorphosis.
Hell yeah--
that would be some kinda metamorphosis, eh?
I wouldn't have to wear clothes then,
because I wouldn't really be human,
so that would be another bonus.
why DO we have to wear clothes??
yes...I stole that question from my kids.
It's a difficult one to explain.
for me, at least.
I love being naked, and I don't believe it's a solely sexual thing.
stupid fucking puritans who settled this country!
stupid fucking "civilized world".
psh.
it's all a matter of perspective, i guess.
so I did give my kids an answer--
you kind of have to, in this family.
they are relentless--
talk about enquiring minds wanting to know!!
(wooot--extra points for 80s ad flash-back!)
I don't remember exactly what I told them,
but I still can't think of a good reason.
especially something less sassy than my usual tone...
sometimes it's just not proper.
heh.
ok, most things you guys know about me are anything but "proper",
but still.
there's a lot about me that is.
maybe.
I find myself looking forward more, lately.
I used to look back...
too much.
sometimes I wonder if I have stories left to tell...
or if I've even scratched the surface.
sometimes I feel like I've wrung out every last drop of myself
into this page,
and that I've said it all--
a dozen times,
a dozen ways.
sometimes I wonder if I could write any words at all
if you weren't out there--
at your desks, on your couches,
smiling into your monitor, sending me love.
probably not.
cuz what would be the point?
the whole purpose of my life is to love and be loved.
that's it.
...I guess that explains my preoccupation with sex!
ha.
no, that could probably be attributed to the abundence and quality,
but that's another story.
I wonder if there are visible layers to my soul--
like holograms, thick but translucent...
I bet they would feel like bubble bath--
or colored sand...
swirling around inside me, each little piece of me fighting to be the biggest, the best, the most cherished...
I love touching my body when I've had a good workout.
I can feel the muscles growing stronger, and forming sharper edges...
under the fat, of course.
(and here's where I would wink, if I could)
I look at women at the gym who are pure muscle, and I wonder what they eat.
that only lasts a second, and then I'm wondering what they don't eat--
listing it all, item by item...
and salivating.
I'm jealous of their willpower...
and their abs.
but not enough to stress about it, don't fret.
I'm a happy girl.
no matter how dramatic I can be at times--
much of that is for pure entertainment.
yours, and mine.
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