Lambert Was A-ssaulted by Edamame
So, chums --
Here I sit, in bewitching blue (read: my business-lady powder blue blouse); we went out for dinner last night, Gill and I: sushi. Today, we went for lunch at a café.
Gill's city is one of those small ones -- the sort with country star murals backgrounding drunks arguing in the streets. No one ever comes away from here with anything real good to say; everything is within walking distance, but nothing is guarenteed to be open when you get there -- we missed out on a number of restaurants because they had shut down without fanfare.
Gill plans to get a peircing; I keep thinking about the byouki tattoo I've been plotting for years. The actual idea for the thing has changed in size (from big and bold to small and dainty) -- the location has not.
I've been reminiscing again: I forget who it was, but someone said that they envied my brutal honesty. Sometimes it's a curse, sometimes it feels liberating. I like being able to get my point across without worrying about the other person/people's feelings about the subject. It gets more done.. but, it also gets me excluded from parties.
That's the thing about me: I want to bring the truth in, no matter the price to me. I have no social conscience half of the time, so I am nearly totally free to express myself. It's the sorts of things I choose to say that condemn me. If I chose to express optimistic bullshit, people would be down with it. Being a downer, or, realistic -- whatever you wish to call it -- doesn't win you any brownie points.
There are times when my alienation from this world haunts me. There are other times when it's completely beneficial. I just don't like the painful awareness of otherness I feel most times. Gill sees me as normal, as does Cherish -- the overwhelming opinion comes from people who know me on a surface level: family, and friends who don't have completely frequent contact with my actual essence. (Or, just tune it out.)
I wish I had a picture to share with ye-all -- drawing with a mouse, and dealing with my glitchy hands is too much to deal with at the same time.
Here I sit, in bewitching blue (read: my business-lady powder blue blouse); we went out for dinner last night, Gill and I: sushi. Today, we went for lunch at a café.
Gill's city is one of those small ones -- the sort with country star murals backgrounding drunks arguing in the streets. No one ever comes away from here with anything real good to say; everything is within walking distance, but nothing is guarenteed to be open when you get there -- we missed out on a number of restaurants because they had shut down without fanfare.
Gill plans to get a peircing; I keep thinking about the byouki tattoo I've been plotting for years. The actual idea for the thing has changed in size (from big and bold to small and dainty) -- the location has not.
I've been reminiscing again: I forget who it was, but someone said that they envied my brutal honesty. Sometimes it's a curse, sometimes it feels liberating. I like being able to get my point across without worrying about the other person/people's feelings about the subject. It gets more done.. but, it also gets me excluded from parties.
That's the thing about me: I want to bring the truth in, no matter the price to me. I have no social conscience half of the time, so I am nearly totally free to express myself. It's the sorts of things I choose to say that condemn me. If I chose to express optimistic bullshit, people would be down with it. Being a downer, or, realistic -- whatever you wish to call it -- doesn't win you any brownie points.
There are times when my alienation from this world haunts me. There are other times when it's completely beneficial. I just don't like the painful awareness of otherness I feel most times. Gill sees me as normal, as does Cherish -- the overwhelming opinion comes from people who know me on a surface level: family, and friends who don't have completely frequent contact with my actual essence. (Or, just tune it out.)
I wish I had a picture to share with ye-all -- drawing with a mouse, and dealing with my glitchy hands is too much to deal with at the same time.