results of pondering...
I think the blankness of anything that can be written on is absolutely intimidating. I could run through a million and two things I'd like to say, yet when I sit down with the intent to write... nothing substantial comes to mind. I must admit I'm a nerd, after bathing with fizzy bath beads (inappropriately termed "marbles" by the manufacturer: who wants marbles in their relaxing bath?!) oh-so-pretty scented candles, in my lovely garden bathtub so fresh and so clean (I LOVE bleach... no seriously... I want to marry it)with some Jackson Browne and Jagged Edge (yes, both of which are in my playlist...I told you... NERD) and steaming cup of spiced cider, it dawned on me that I need to write. It is my crack, my sanity, my cup of coffee in the morning (although I prefer it at night for some reason my warped lil brain finds it more fitting and ideal). Speaking of ideal, one of the conclusions I reached while pruning in the tub, is that I am so very idealistic. (can I emphasize the SO, another wonderful thing about writing... it allows me to see just how flaky I am). I want, crave, desire (call it what you will)for my entire existence to be beautiful and bright and perfect at all times. Impossible, yes, but to me, it's simply a sickeningly hopeful image to pursue. I suppose it could be motivational, but not in a mind that can occasionally be compulsive and is most always self centered. I AM THE HIPPO. With that statement from you my dearest Wes, I was supposed to know the exact meaning. It took a little explaining, but in the end I suppose I understand. I am the hippo, I am what I am and trying and failing at changing ones self does not accomplish much aside from a brutal self image and a constant feeling of lacking. And so, with this glorious and rich information for my mind to toil over, I made a decision to just sit back and shut the fuck up once in a while. Bitching does not resolve and resolving when you're as hardheaded and stubborn as myself rarely occurs. This we'll say is not a resolution, just an understanding. I didn't mean to waste your minutes with nothingness, with empty breaths full of bitching, I wish you the greatest, neatest, and most thrilling life imaginable. I thank you for showing me that being me is, in the end, something I just have to accept. Understand though, that it ties into my idealism and craving for more and better and all always. Yet with this information I deduced that changing for the sake of changing is not always in my best interest. Changing to better myself or my existence is imperative. Gotcha, see I was listening, not just mutilating a lemon. (...and the other coffee joint has much better tea then Agora) Something in me desires to run, perhaps that fact that I am the HUGEST pussy in the jar that holds us people and planets that sits on a little boys nightstand, or perhaps it's a real justifiable fear of commitment or stagnation. (although I firmly stick by the phrase that the only thing to fear is fear itself)I am super spacecadet Sarah, lost in my dismal abyss of self centered thoughts and fanciful daydreams (yes, those include the almost always sexual ones-and no I decided I don't feel guilty for them, they are WONDERFUL :)) I decided I don't feel guilty for dancing naked for money- it was fun, for having an innumerable (okay exageration)amount of people privvy enough to see me naked- I enjoyed every minute of every encounter (man sweetlovin is better than anything imaginable) I don't feel guilty for being a fatty- I am that way because I love food and I accept that it's my decision, I don't feel guilty for sleeping until three in the afternoon when I have nothing pressing to do- sleep seems to rate nearly as up there as good booty in my book... So my list continues, but I'll spare you, breathe deeply- you only live once. I don't know if I've quite covered all of my bases, but I'll post so you can read a bit....