Dear Readers,
Before I even start, I wanted to share this thought with you.
Love is someone who checks in on you when your shower is particularly long.
It is not like I take little cheesy splashes like so many birds, its just because a long shower is a luxury that I don't typically partake upon. In this shower, I decided to shave without drawing blood, without thinking about the chores and whatnots that would have to happen today, without planning my meals for the day...I even turned off my supersonic mommy hearing. It was very relaxing. I even deep conditioned my hair.
Unfortunately, because there is always an unfortunately...this long shower devoid of useful thinking allowed my brain to go to other places. Not even nice secret dark places of pleasure! Not even those. Trust me, I am really good about using my Me Time. I didn't even remotely consider any of the loveliness and happy spots around my body. Nope. No loving in that shower. Me Time did not warp into Oh Yeah Me Time! Later....
So what did I go....
I bet you want to know.
Dontcha Dontcha Dontcha
Obviously there is a reason that I am here instead of tending to the Artist Formally Known As. Ok, ok, she is asleep, but not for long. It has come to my attention (and this is not the last time or first time) that I say a whole lot online. OF COURSE I DO. I am a Pisces. Sheesh....we LOVE this shit. Anyway.....
In the shower I was indulging in Conversations With You!! I guess the they are best called Conversations With Myself, but no, not really, because in order for them to be Conversations With Myself, I would have to actually answer myself. Conversations With You are conversations that may never ever be answered (as You are not there). Conversations With You are very useful should I ever have the actual conversation with you in Real Time. Then you will be so fascinated with the snappy smart responses. Unbeknownst to you, Conversations With You are almost rehearsals. Sometimes I ad-lib your responses. Those responses range from these levels:
1. What I Wish You Would Say
2. What You Will Probably Say
3. What I Pray That You Don't Even Think Because My Inner Karate ChopSpert May Want To Kick You in The Mouth
Do you understand, Dear Readers, why this shower was so long? Imagine! First of all Conversations With You are seldom with just one person. In this case there was one burning conversation and a few smaller ones. I think I purposely added the few small ones because I didn't want the stress and obligation (STRESS) to Talk to Only One You in my entire shower.
Dear Readers, in the spirit of sharing everything down the to the wart that I burned off this week, I have decided to share today's Conversations With You. I don't think I will go to the trouble of playing with the response ranges. If I do that, we will be here all freaking day and the Artist Formally Known As & I have stuff to do today. Our time is very precious and feels oh so good and DAMN you Pandora for playing Al Green right now. This is not the music for this blog. Oh...deep thoughtful pause and the Lola in me challenges the Christine to a Soul Bop Dance Off.....times are good or bad, happy or sad....
Ok, I am back. I just want to interject, especially to one of my favorite Dear Readers, mother of the King...I really love Ana Steele's inner diva and subconscious and I really think that I have also harbored all these inner Me's and I am so happy that someone thought to write about them. Not so secretly I am seething that I didn't do it first or at the very least in between covers of a novel or three....
What I don't do in my blog is expose the people that I write about. If you are someone who knows me and honestly knows our relationship both here and in Real Time, then you ought to know who you are when I talk about/to you. Ok? Real talk, don't let the cute confuse you, I am uber serious and I do NOTHING ACCIDENTALLY. If you really want to see the me at my best and worst and best again, go visit Lola Tuesday. Most of my Dear Readers have read all of my blogs and follow my FB, Twitter and Google+. Knowledge is power, yo. I am no different. Keep thinking that I don't know. One Dear Ex felt the (sage) need to protect her reputation upon our break up and started telling people that I was the...wait, I need to translate something into Spanish.... dead mosquito...
Mosquito Muerto! This is a person who plays innocent but in real time is quite aware of who they really are. Does anyone really mourn a dead mosquito? Hell to the no. This mosquito is not going ANYWHERE. Anyway, yes, I am well aware of the strength of my words and actions, especially with a willing keyboard at my fingers.
That being say.....BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
First Conversation:
So I missed piano last week...I could have actually made it. What did I miss? I really don't think that I am really taking this class seriously. In fact, as long as you are listening, I can honestly tell you that I only took this class to be near you. I don't know why I am so drawn to you, but I am. Anyhow, I don't want to embarrass myself as I have a man, as well as you and this would go absolutely no where. It is ok for me to have an innocent crush on you. I won't waste your time, but could I trace your ink art with my finger? I think that is what I have always wanted to do. Just trace it. Am I blushing? Yes. I can find middle C. Let's talk piano.
Second Conversation:
No I don't give a rat's ass about you, but maybe I do because you sneak into my thoughts STILL. Jesus take the wheel but you know how to rile me up. Sometimes the effort put into ignoring someone takes so much out of me. Shit. Ugh. No I don't have burning questions. Why would you assume that I want answers that would never be sufficient enough? I don't believe anything that you say. You are a liar, and a poor one. Ugh....such a whiny, pouty, Mistress of Nothing. Embrace the time that we had together and be happy that I am adult enough to anonymously rake through our trash here and not to your face. I don't even want to share this trash pile with you. Ick. Please stalk away on your freakishly tiny feet, attached to those cankles and ample thighs and go...far....away....sheesh.
Third Conversation:
I know that you want to call me. Ha. I have nothing to say to you. You messed it up again, but it was wise for you to do so, because you are right, I will never give up with I have with her. I am in love. You will find someone for you too, I know you will. I wish I could give you advice on how to, but our time was so short.
Fourth Conversation:
DAMN STOP WHISPERING!! How do you expect me to understand you if you insist on whispering?? I really do want to understand that words that are coming out of your mouth but the guttural semi gay semi threatening way that you speak makes my eyes dilute and my arm hair stand on end. Please. Just speak.
Fifth Conversation:
Listen, I really don't dislike you. The truth of the matter is, I will never throw confetti over a relationship outside of mine. As a strong woman of color (insert snicker) talking to someone who surrounds herself by people of color (insert snort) you must know that this is ah different for me. The fact of the matter is, we should probably discuss this over tofu stir fry and absurdly small heads of broccoli. I am deeply dedicated to my relationship and not only do I not expect anyone to treat my man the way that I do, it is simply not anyone's place to worry about such things. The formula is simple: All the players know their place. I would talk about sports but I would pluck it up because I don't follow sports. Not like the other one. Yes, there will always be other ones. It's cool. As long as we all know our place in the magnificent life. The Universe already knows. Namaste.
Sixth Conversation:
Anytime we talk about something that you find to be serious, you ask me not to blog about it. I didn't even know that you read my blogs, so that makes me feel special. I wish we were closer. We don't have much in common, but contrary to popular thought, I do wish we had a stronger familial bond. I don't mind being who I am. I guess I can't really complain about you having events and not including me, because we all know that I seldom show up. I guess what I am trying to say is, I still want to know. I do sometimes feel lonely, but I know that my loneliness is self-afflicted. I rake my fingers through my wildly curly unruly hair and think that this is who I really am. I can't fit the box that you might need me to fit. I should try though. Nope. I won't. I love you all the same.
Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth Conversations:
Please stop pretending to be my friend to sleep with me. By sleep with me, I mean, take my body as if you have some real investment besides your own needy gratification. You missed the window of opportunity when I suffered for absentee self esteem. Now I am well aware that my curves make your eyes roll back and your groin pound. I. Don't. Want. Nor. Do. I. Need. You. To. Touch. Me. First of all, my sex life is very awesome and second of all, I am really quite crafty at pleasuring myself. I enjoy me, all the time, every day. You are not welcome. You ought to practice self gratification. You may however continue to day/noon/night dream about my endlessly long legs wrapping around your body. You may continue to wonder about the point of climax when my back arches, my breath quickens and my eyes shut tight and then snap open to rapt attention. I know what I have, what to do with it, and what it can do to another. So does my man. The position has been filled.
Whew. Dear Readers, I am back. Those last few conversations are making me feel some kind of way. Mmmmmm do I love me.....
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ
A simple start,
Christine
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
New Title...Told You. Still Valid.
Dear Readers:
Pardon the slow title. I will probably change it, making this introduction moot. Whatever.
How are you lovelies? I am so reflective this morning. I don't know if it is because of the raw clams, fries, beer and funnel cake from yesterday's jaunt to Coney Island or what...but OMGenius with the Lolabration going on. I have so much to say, so much to keep to myself but we all know that I am not a pro at keeping anything to myself.
Today, as I have been up for a few hours and I know the artist formally known as does not stir until noon...I have a lot of thoughts to get down.
I have since waking:
1. Responded to a text from my dear father requesting recent pictures of his grandkids. None of me, if you were wondering, as being his favorite has etched my image on his soul forever.
2. Brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
3. Made coffee (unsuccessfully) eggs and trimmed strawberries with a handful of grapes for breakfast.
4. Dealt with the glaring cat by doling out her breakfast.
5. Read a few chapters in Fifty Shades of something or another..book 2.
6. Facebooked...this was done throughout numbers 1-10...which is why my battery is on life support.
7. Thought (hard) this was done throughout numbers 1-10 as well, which is why I am here now.
8. Made more coffee for the artist formally known as and giggled at the thought of going for a walk and leaving this note: Took cat for a stroll, coffee is in the pot. xoxo
9. Flossed, brushed, blinked in my contacts and attempted a better bun in my hair which caused the band to pop, ergo, the mess settled at my shoulders.
10. Peeked in on the artist formally known as, wrapped myself in a quilt and posted my booty here in front of you, Dear Readers.
So it is probably time to get on with my thoughts, in no particular order as you must know, I do nothing in order.
On Happiness:
I wrote a blog some time ago about the fear of forgetting the feeling of happiness. I realize now that I was wrong. You can't really forget the feeling of happiness, but it can be clouded by other emotions. I have never forgotten happiness, I just have manipulated myself (similar to self flogging, it does not really work aside from exhausting yourself) to fit into certain unhappy situations. Realistically, why would anyone do something that they don't like? Why would anyone purposely put themselves in an unhappy situation? I am sure that I have blogged either here or at First Tuesday about the joy of shedding tears. Could it be that I have placed myself in so called unhappy situations simply for the relief of tears? I don't really know. I do know that I have cried this summer, but not nearly as much as last summer and no where close to the summer before. I think, no, actually I know that in order to truly appreciate and experience happiness you simply must appreciate and experience sadness. Sucks, but true Puck. I end this thought with, I am happy. My happiness may not suit others which leads successfully and seamlessly to my next frame of thought...
On How Others Interpret My Happiness:
I am, by trade, a whiner. I whine for various reasons. Friends have called me an Attention Whore and though I protested weakly, I never admitted that I didn't really like the term. There are so many other creative ways to modify Whore. Anyway, let me try to stay on target. So I do whine. I can't say that I don't mean to whine. I can't say I recognize when I whine. I do know this....I do know that people have a way of offering unwanted advice when I whine, but guess what....there is only one person to blame for that. You are reading her words right now. Did you guess correctly? You did. I am the reason. You know how some people wear their heart on their sleeve, and their eyes are the window to their soul? Honey Boo Boo Chile, I am a walking, talking, chanting, all eyes on ME personality. I am the Founder, President, Secretary and Board of my Fan Club. Do you think I could not just blog in a private place and save it for my eyes only? Please...what is the fun in that? I am pretty sure that I have digressed from the title of this portion of my blog, but if you get me, you will carry on and go with it. I think all of this is where Attention Whore comes from. Anyway. Since I have so much to say about my feelings, and since I have such great friends...I think that everyone means well. I think that when I am especially hurt and demonstrative (always) that my friends sit up and take notice. Immediately they want to protect me and I appreciate it. I sincerely do. Then I turn around and repeat the absolute behavior that put me in the especially hurt and demonstrative place and they look at me, horrified. Ok, maybe not horrified, but not pleased. I don't know what to say, except this: What makes me happy fluctuates. I do know what I need to do, with or without your advice, and it does not mean that I don't appreciate you...it simply means I will ultimately do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Please don't throw your hands in the air in frustration...rather throw them in the air and wave them like you just don't care. If you get me, you do. I love you for that. Yes, I will continue to moan and swoon and fall in love and fall in lust and fall over a crack and fail to dance, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. Everything. FYI..at this posting, I am happy. This is a sloppy sedgeway in to my next frame of thought...
On Why it is Silly For You to Love Me:
I am not talking about you Dear Readers. I am not talking about any ex lovers. I am not talking about the artist formally known as. I am kind of talking to future lovers and one almost nearly maybe no lover. I am in love. That love is fortified by lust. I don't think it is the other way around. Actually that is not the real reason it is silly for you to love me. It is silly of you to love me because under all this sweet, considerate, smart, sensual woman of a certain age (36 to be precise) is a train wreck at the station. You thought my plate was full? It is not Thanksgiving full, rather it is Hunger Games bounty in the middle of the field full...full of secrets, booby traps, corpses, backpacks chock full of issues and wannabe lovers disguised as wannabe warriors. It is silly of you to love me because I will always be hung up on other things and I don't just mean the artist formally known as. I mean...I just mean...that I cannot be trusted with any more hearts. My heart (enter whine) has been through so much, but not nearly as much or as little as anyone else. I just don't feel like it. Simple. If you can love me, all my ickyness, all my everything, including my love for the artist formally known as, then maybe, just maybe you are safe to move onward Christian solider. I have always wanted to incorporate onward Christian solider into a blog, but I like the tone of onward Christine solider. Anyway, everyone, including my Dear Readers know not to read so hard into everything that I write, but you should because I do mean every word. I just need everyone to understand that I can be a bit much...more so in text then in person. Ready? Probably not. This does not lead into my next thought as I am not even sure of my next thought and I am truly typing this sentence to get there...nope...nothing. Hmmmmm, on wait...here is one....
On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know:
It has never been easy to be me (this is not a whine, this is real talk). It has never been easy being me but I have figured it out for the most part. While I am not a person with multiple personalities, I am a person with multiple thoughts going on at one time. I am absolutely never just being. My mind is never at rest. There are always thoughts (call them plots, if you may) going on. You really just think that I do things without pondering? You are so wrong. I am not a conniving person, but be damned if you think that I am not cool and calculating. See how I left out calm? I have been accused of being so calm that it looks like I don't care. An assumption has never made such a concentrated ass of itself as that. I am almost never calm, not even at rest. I am always on the verge of JUMP. This is why I blog. I need some way of directing traffic. I need some way of justifying the thoughts that continue to roam through me, haphazardly. If I don't, things will get way out of control. Or maybe not. I don't know...but what I do know is that I am stronger than you will ever know. It is not a single-handed feat, rather an all hands on deck effort. I can't really explain, or maybe I don't really want to, but rest assured, I am always one thought ahead, one action ahead, and etc and so on. This leads to my next thought (just following the near heart attack as my blog disappeared, thank you, dear undo arrow)...
On Why I am Not Easily Defeated:
I am not easily defeated not because I am an untouchable but because I simply don't care about things like other people do. Saying that I don't care may be a little abrasive and unnecessarily so, a better statement would be, I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't really worry about things like other people do. I don't really care that my white skirt has been stained by my favorite bag simply because it is my white skirt and my favorite bag and at sometime or another the two shall meet, maybe resulting in disaster. By the way, the artist formally known as took care of that stain and I do care that she cared enough. I think my view on what is most important does not align with what others see. That is precisely why I am not easily defeated. I know that some things that you do (please don't try to guess the identity of "you" as "you" refers to many) are purposely to hurt me. I also know that some things that you do are not meant to hurt me, rather meant to obtain your immediate gratification. I also know that some things that you do do not fall into either category, rather the gray area known as "Reasons You Are A Simple Bastid". The reason you can't really defeat me is my recovery time is mutantesque fast. Refer to On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know...with all the thoughts going through my head, do you honestly think I have time to dwell on anything for an extraordinary amount of time? Do you think breaking my heart is any different then my white skirt + favorite bag = stain (a removable one at that)? It is not. The reason I can look at one time serene and straight crazy eyed is because I am in constant recovery. Some recovery efforts include tears, of the hot stingy fashion, other recovery efforts include a dismissive eye roll. The point is, I will always be ok. The one thing that I have learned through the constant thought sort is that life is ridiculously short and I sweat nothing, not a skirt and certainly not the multitudes of you (again, do not try to identify the you).
Whew...there is more, but who could read beyond this point....and the artist formally know as is not awake. I must attend to wife business. Heeeh...that statement is going to get me off the counter and onto the burner, but again...white skirt + favorite bag = stain (and most stains can be removed). I must attend to Wife Business and let you (yes you, Dear Readers and you Others) on with your thoughts. Happy weekend, mine most certainly is.
A simple start,
Christine
Pardon the slow title. I will probably change it, making this introduction moot. Whatever.
How are you lovelies? I am so reflective this morning. I don't know if it is because of the raw clams, fries, beer and funnel cake from yesterday's jaunt to Coney Island or what...but OMGenius with the Lolabration going on. I have so much to say, so much to keep to myself but we all know that I am not a pro at keeping anything to myself.
Today, as I have been up for a few hours and I know the artist formally known as does not stir until noon...I have a lot of thoughts to get down.
I have since waking:
1. Responded to a text from my dear father requesting recent pictures of his grandkids. None of me, if you were wondering, as being his favorite has etched my image on his soul forever.
2. Brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
3. Made coffee (unsuccessfully) eggs and trimmed strawberries with a handful of grapes for breakfast.
4. Dealt with the glaring cat by doling out her breakfast.
5. Read a few chapters in Fifty Shades of something or another..book 2.
6. Facebooked...this was done throughout numbers 1-10...which is why my battery is on life support.
7. Thought (hard) this was done throughout numbers 1-10 as well, which is why I am here now.
8. Made more coffee for the artist formally known as and giggled at the thought of going for a walk and leaving this note: Took cat for a stroll, coffee is in the pot. xoxo
9. Flossed, brushed, blinked in my contacts and attempted a better bun in my hair which caused the band to pop, ergo, the mess settled at my shoulders.
10. Peeked in on the artist formally known as, wrapped myself in a quilt and posted my booty here in front of you, Dear Readers.
So it is probably time to get on with my thoughts, in no particular order as you must know, I do nothing in order.
On Happiness:
I wrote a blog some time ago about the fear of forgetting the feeling of happiness. I realize now that I was wrong. You can't really forget the feeling of happiness, but it can be clouded by other emotions. I have never forgotten happiness, I just have manipulated myself (similar to self flogging, it does not really work aside from exhausting yourself) to fit into certain unhappy situations. Realistically, why would anyone do something that they don't like? Why would anyone purposely put themselves in an unhappy situation? I am sure that I have blogged either here or at First Tuesday about the joy of shedding tears. Could it be that I have placed myself in so called unhappy situations simply for the relief of tears? I don't really know. I do know that I have cried this summer, but not nearly as much as last summer and no where close to the summer before. I think, no, actually I know that in order to truly appreciate and experience happiness you simply must appreciate and experience sadness. Sucks, but true Puck. I end this thought with, I am happy. My happiness may not suit others which leads successfully and seamlessly to my next frame of thought...
On How Others Interpret My Happiness:
I am, by trade, a whiner. I whine for various reasons. Friends have called me an Attention Whore and though I protested weakly, I never admitted that I didn't really like the term. There are so many other creative ways to modify Whore. Anyway, let me try to stay on target. So I do whine. I can't say that I don't mean to whine. I can't say I recognize when I whine. I do know this....I do know that people have a way of offering unwanted advice when I whine, but guess what....there is only one person to blame for that. You are reading her words right now. Did you guess correctly? You did. I am the reason. You know how some people wear their heart on their sleeve, and their eyes are the window to their soul? Honey Boo Boo Chile, I am a walking, talking, chanting, all eyes on ME personality. I am the Founder, President, Secretary and Board of my Fan Club. Do you think I could not just blog in a private place and save it for my eyes only? Please...what is the fun in that? I am pretty sure that I have digressed from the title of this portion of my blog, but if you get me, you will carry on and go with it. I think all of this is where Attention Whore comes from. Anyway. Since I have so much to say about my feelings, and since I have such great friends...I think that everyone means well. I think that when I am especially hurt and demonstrative (always) that my friends sit up and take notice. Immediately they want to protect me and I appreciate it. I sincerely do. Then I turn around and repeat the absolute behavior that put me in the especially hurt and demonstrative place and they look at me, horrified. Ok, maybe not horrified, but not pleased. I don't know what to say, except this: What makes me happy fluctuates. I do know what I need to do, with or without your advice, and it does not mean that I don't appreciate you...it simply means I will ultimately do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Please don't throw your hands in the air in frustration...rather throw them in the air and wave them like you just don't care. If you get me, you do. I love you for that. Yes, I will continue to moan and swoon and fall in love and fall in lust and fall over a crack and fail to dance, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. Everything. FYI..at this posting, I am happy. This is a sloppy sedgeway in to my next frame of thought...
On Why it is Silly For You to Love Me:
I am not talking about you Dear Readers. I am not talking about any ex lovers. I am not talking about the artist formally known as. I am kind of talking to future lovers and one almost nearly maybe no lover. I am in love. That love is fortified by lust. I don't think it is the other way around. Actually that is not the real reason it is silly for you to love me. It is silly of you to love me because under all this sweet, considerate, smart, sensual woman of a certain age (36 to be precise) is a train wreck at the station. You thought my plate was full? It is not Thanksgiving full, rather it is Hunger Games bounty in the middle of the field full...full of secrets, booby traps, corpses, backpacks chock full of issues and wannabe lovers disguised as wannabe warriors. It is silly of you to love me because I will always be hung up on other things and I don't just mean the artist formally known as. I mean...I just mean...that I cannot be trusted with any more hearts. My heart (enter whine) has been through so much, but not nearly as much or as little as anyone else. I just don't feel like it. Simple. If you can love me, all my ickyness, all my everything, including my love for the artist formally known as, then maybe, just maybe you are safe to move onward Christian solider. I have always wanted to incorporate onward Christian solider into a blog, but I like the tone of onward Christine solider. Anyway, everyone, including my Dear Readers know not to read so hard into everything that I write, but you should because I do mean every word. I just need everyone to understand that I can be a bit much...more so in text then in person. Ready? Probably not. This does not lead into my next thought as I am not even sure of my next thought and I am truly typing this sentence to get there...nope...nothing. Hmmmmm, on wait...here is one....
On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know:
It has never been easy to be me (this is not a whine, this is real talk). It has never been easy being me but I have figured it out for the most part. While I am not a person with multiple personalities, I am a person with multiple thoughts going on at one time. I am absolutely never just being. My mind is never at rest. There are always thoughts (call them plots, if you may) going on. You really just think that I do things without pondering? You are so wrong. I am not a conniving person, but be damned if you think that I am not cool and calculating. See how I left out calm? I have been accused of being so calm that it looks like I don't care. An assumption has never made such a concentrated ass of itself as that. I am almost never calm, not even at rest. I am always on the verge of JUMP. This is why I blog. I need some way of directing traffic. I need some way of justifying the thoughts that continue to roam through me, haphazardly. If I don't, things will get way out of control. Or maybe not. I don't know...but what I do know is that I am stronger than you will ever know. It is not a single-handed feat, rather an all hands on deck effort. I can't really explain, or maybe I don't really want to, but rest assured, I am always one thought ahead, one action ahead, and etc and so on. This leads to my next thought (just following the near heart attack as my blog disappeared, thank you, dear undo arrow)...
On Why I am Not Easily Defeated:
I am not easily defeated not because I am an untouchable but because I simply don't care about things like other people do. Saying that I don't care may be a little abrasive and unnecessarily so, a better statement would be, I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't really worry about things like other people do. I don't really care that my white skirt has been stained by my favorite bag simply because it is my white skirt and my favorite bag and at sometime or another the two shall meet, maybe resulting in disaster. By the way, the artist formally known as took care of that stain and I do care that she cared enough. I think my view on what is most important does not align with what others see. That is precisely why I am not easily defeated. I know that some things that you do (please don't try to guess the identity of "you" as "you" refers to many) are purposely to hurt me. I also know that some things that you do are not meant to hurt me, rather meant to obtain your immediate gratification. I also know that some things that you do do not fall into either category, rather the gray area known as "Reasons You Are A Simple Bastid". The reason you can't really defeat me is my recovery time is mutantesque fast. Refer to On Why I am Stronger Than You will Ever Know...with all the thoughts going through my head, do you honestly think I have time to dwell on anything for an extraordinary amount of time? Do you think breaking my heart is any different then my white skirt + favorite bag = stain (a removable one at that)? It is not. The reason I can look at one time serene and straight crazy eyed is because I am in constant recovery. Some recovery efforts include tears, of the hot stingy fashion, other recovery efforts include a dismissive eye roll. The point is, I will always be ok. The one thing that I have learned through the constant thought sort is that life is ridiculously short and I sweat nothing, not a skirt and certainly not the multitudes of you (again, do not try to identify the you).
Whew...there is more, but who could read beyond this point....and the artist formally know as is not awake. I must attend to wife business. Heeeh...that statement is going to get me off the counter and onto the burner, but again...white skirt + favorite bag = stain (and most stains can be removed). I must attend to Wife Business and let you (yes you, Dear Readers and you Others) on with your thoughts. Happy weekend, mine most certainly is.
A simple start,
Christine
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