patata

In a caffeine-induced state of hyperspeed yesterday morning, I posted about a billion things on Facebook. Because, you know, that's productive. I posted a link to a blog. Specifically my blog. Specifically THIS blog. And then hours later I was, like, "Oh no." Not that I was keeping this little corner of the Internet a secret per se, but I liked having a quieter place to retreat to dump my thoughts, puke out my monkey mind, diarrhea my ideas for only a select few to see. Sounds messy. And it was messy. AND IT SHALL CONTINUE TO BE MESSY. I don't want to censor myself just because now I know that this or that person has viewed my messy blog. Besides, I'm overestimating the power of a simple Facebook post. I don't want to fall into the trap of having these grandiose thoughts of self-importance. Self-love and self-care? Sure. But dial back the ego, Meg.

Do I have monkey mind thoughts today? Of course. I'm beginning to realize that many of my thoughts that I share with you (you millions upon millions of new readers! psych!) are about as exciting as a baked potato. Guess what? Baked potatoes are pretty damn exciting. I should know because I had one last night. It was remarkable, a nearly religious experience. Breaking away from my bizarre, highly-ritualistic eating behavior for one night was ahhhhhhh and it was ohhhhhhh and it was apparently high in fiber. I may have even seen the Virgin Mary in the skin of the spud, but who knows? I believe I will make potato eating and other revolutionary acts a regular thing.

Yesterday I also received my second dose of iron THROUGH AN IV AND INTO MY VEINS!!! Doesn't that sound hardcore? Well, I guess it's fairly common, which makes me boasting about it less fun. The nurse this time was a woman and a delightful woman at that. She was more calming, more nurturing, and even wrapped a warm hospital blanket around my legs. It felt foreign to be taken care of like that by a stranger, but it is definitely something I could get used to. From now on I shall seek out the drifters, the outsiders, and the transients to provide me with physical and emotional comfort! I joke. I joke a lot on this blog, so get used to it. Yet at the same time, I can be so achingly honest. Get used to that, too. I also start a lot of sentences with "and" and those sentences usually run on and on and on and often I ask too many questions and answer none. And I tend to end paragraphs with the phrase "and that's okay." Now you know her fog! But do you know her pearls?

Well, folks, that's a quick updated on... On potatoes and strangers. If you ever meet a strange potato, however, do not expect me to know what to do. I would suggest you turn and run the other way, but then again maybe the potato just needs a friend. Maybe we all just need a friend. Maybe we all just need a familiar friend who will wrap warm blankets around our cold, iron-deficient limbs. Maybe I can be that friend to you. <3