Maybe that's just inside my head...
I am sore in all the best ways today--
muscles building themselves back up after lifting weights,
ya damn pervs.
God DAMN, but I love a good workout.
I just had a false alarm--
nearly scared the write right out of me.
I thought I heard one of my kids crying, so I bolted upstairs to check on him.
As I passed my husband's office (Your room, Orange!),
I noticed some suspiciously cry-like sounds issuing forth from his
World of Goddamn Warcraft.
Thanks for the near heart attack, Cameron.
That was awesome.
Guess why my husband likes my blog?
Nevermind, it's depressing.
What if I never feel like writing again?
What if it's lost?
I just don't feel like I have words anymore...
not the good kind, at least.
Like...I just have the storebrand ones.
Or worse, the fucking vegan-pepperoni ones.
Christ, that would take away all meaning in my life.
Don't ever make me stop eating real food, ok?
Uh...where was I?
Oh yeah, lost words.
Yup, I'm pretty much sick of complaining about it,
but I have most definitely lost my groove.
I want a mentor, a guru.
A professional hand holder, fire-lighter (of the sub-derriere variety).
I'm just being a wuss.
A whiner, a slacker,
a shirker, a smirker.
I'm pretty sure I've written all my good blog words, though.
I may need to veer off onto some other path.
I just need to stop thinking so hard.
And let my dreams spill out again.
I have not felt like blogging with the same carefree gurgling of thoughts over smooth stones as I once did.
I think it's because...my audience has changed.
It was so much easier to not be self conscious in my writing when my audience was smaller and always supportive.
sometimes I just want to say things, but I don't.
And sometimes I just want to hide instead of socialize--
it's like I'm constantly sucking in my gut and smiling that smile of the woman making small talk and hoping no one notices the tear stains leading down to her chin, and hoping no one notices that she doesn't want to be there, and reapplying lipstick and checking teeth for stuck food or lipstick residue...
I feel like that girl.
I think I used to feel like the other one...
I think I used to write on here as if I was Lisa.
I used to write like my laugh sounds, or form sentences that outline a very direct route to the gauzy core of my soul...
I have wandered off and allowed the jittery, boring girl to take over.
I know that I have learned during the last year or so that wanting too much is
and uncomfortable, and unnecessary, and
a few other things.
But it's really fucking freezing in my office right now.
And I see other people, and they allow themselves to want...
and I am jealous.
I wish that I could look beyond the bone surrounding my occular cavities--
and feel the fingers of something else sinking into me, pulling me.
But I don't.
And I won't.
Dark and deep this post has become.
Which was not the intent.
I am fucking freezing.
The furnace is on; I hear it.
I hate being so vague and mysterious.
Miss teary us.
How in the hell am I supposed to find balance between having pretty much everything I want, and still using my unmet desires to fuel my creativity???
Answer me that one!
Cuz chances are, I DON'T CARE.
Anyway, the good news is:
Or it will be by the time most of you read this.
I think I just might be due for a large beer consumption event.
Perhaps some karaoke?
Sorry, I guess I could use the phone...might work better.
Ok, it's settled.
I'm going out, with girlfriends, for vast quantities of liquor consumption.
Suddenly, I feel much better.
The world is a beautiful place, when viewed through beer-flavored goggles...
Have a happy weekend darlings, and do something nice for someone.