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
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