When you're strange...

faces either come out of the rain or the mirror,
I can't remember which.
ok, that's a lie.
I love the doors.
something about Jim Morrison sorta takes my breath away.

and I won't pretend to be "back", because if any of you have IQs over like, 12, fer chrissake, you've noticed that I'm a yo-yo lately, anyway.
she's up, she's down--and still going down, fyi.
oh!
I wore the tank top to the gym today...
("I suck...but at least i'm good at it")
the woman checking my kids into the playroom read it, out loud...
and laughed, appreciatively.
I just had to mention that I had made it myself, didn't I?
ugh.
and THEN.
I went to the little trainer's desky to check when my next appointment is
(ok, so maybe i had one yesterday that I totally thought was today...)
and one of the guys started reading it.
did I blush?
um.
YES.
several shades, at least.
(I wonder how many times I say "at least" in a week, on here? it's gotta be at least a hundred...hahahahaha...at least a hundred!!)
so I guess I won't be wearing that in public for a while.

I am pretty sure I'm going to cancel this Friday's birthday outing.
mostly because I haven't found a babysitter yet,
but also because two of the girls haven't RSVPeeed yet,
and the more I think of it, the more I think the other two girls need to just go do their thing.
maybe J and I can just hang out (but since neither of us has a "wang", it won't be out)...
dammit.
I think that means I'm getting old.

why am I so damned needy?
I just am, I guess.
I love people soooo much, though.
and I want everyone to love me, every minute of every day.
openly, wildly--and with oozing sores.
ew, ok, maybe those with sores could refrain a bit...
but I want to flow through you like a sliver of wind,
and see/feel/taste/know...
you from the inside.
I want to be all that I can be in the army of ME.
I am, after all, the Captain of my soul.
the master of my destiny.

I was composing a letter to Oprah today...
in my head.
I've forgotten the subject matter,
but it included this gem:
knowing really is half the battle, as GI Joe claims,
but let's not forget that knowing is only half the battle--there must also be a solution.
god, I'm a genius.
...someone nominate me for woman of the year, wouldja?

and I still haven't figured out what to give my Dad for Father's day...
yes, it was last week, back the fuck off.

how do you harness something as large as the sky,
and stronger than gravity?
how do live with that locked up in a desk drawer, instead of splashed across the horizon?
you probably don't.
which is why I shouldn't be surprised that I can't, either.
so...i guess i need to find a way to fit into this world I live in.
what did i call it once...?
um...something about white picket fence feeling more like bars of a prison.
f'k'n' drama queen.


sometimes, when I'm alone...
I worry, in split-second intervals, that someone is about to enter my home,
someone dark and sinister--
and that's not as cool as it sounds.
I'll hear a noise and my imagination is first on deck,
but I shush it reflexively.
it's my survival instict.
when I let my mind indulge those fantasies, I soon become paralyzed with fear.
this hasn't happened in years, but sometime, I would like to have the guts to explore that line of thought, and write horrid stories.

My name is Lisa and I have a crush on a Tee Ball dad.
whew, that feels good.
it's not my fault...I'm an addict.

if you like yourself, AT ALL--
give yourself a present, by going here.
read.
comment.
rinse.
repeat.

it's thursday.
don't forget to get extra sleep tonight, since tomorrow is el weekendo
party on Garth.