Monday, April 13, 2015


Good morning! Or afternoon. Or goodnight? I am not sure where you are reading this. You could be standing right behind me (creepy) or on the other side of the world in Madagascar (exotic). Anyway, I just want to greet you and tell you how wonderful I think you are. But don't get too cocky! Don't be self-deprecating or overconfident. Just forget about yourself for awhile and drink some tea, but make sure you see if anyone else would like some tea as well. Monkey -- uh, I forgot what I was going to type. I started to type "monkey" and then I left to go take care of a pot of boiling water. When I returned from the pot of boiling water, I found the word "monkey" on my screen. How curious. Curious as a monkey in heat. No, that's not the phrase. Or is it? What is "THE phrase"? What is the deal with humans dressing up monkeys in three-piece suits? And what's the deal with monkeys being "monkeys" and not "monkies." Moneys. Monies. Looneys. Loonies. Goonies. The Goonies is a really excellent film.

I feel happy. Let me have this. I won't cling to the happiness, but I will enjoy it. I will examine why I feel happy, what the circumstances are, who I am around, my environment, and so forth. So far I have a good idea why I am more relaxed and more of a disgusting hippie, but I am going to keep this to myself for now. Some things I need to keep private, you know? Still, I am a fairly open gal. ASK ME ANYTHING, just don't ask me out to dinner if you are a dude in a local band just lookin' for another notch on your keytar. NOT INTERESTED. (Although I am always interested in dinner. What are you eating tonight for dinner? Please let it be something YOU crave. Don't let the Buddha ruin your appetite when he inevitably reminds you that all cravings lead to suffering. Shut him up with some amazing tacos. Taco Monday!)

Okay, here's a small fear in the back/middle/front of my head. I feel better, right? Right. I feel like I am actually making progress in my recovery, yeah? Yeah, you bet. But now for the somewhat embarrassing confession: If I get better, will people stop caring? When I was a kid I used to pretend like I was on my death bed and that people would come up to me and tell me how much they love me and how much they want to take care of me. It's not that I want people to be concerned and worried about me... I mean, for the most part. And if I do care, it goes deeper than that -- it all goes back to human affection and connection. I desire to nurture another human just as much as I desire another human to nurture me.

And I have that. I really have that with members of my family and many selfless friends. I know that I don't have to worry that I will be abandoned. I know that, but sometimes the irrational fears creep in.

I owe it to myself, though, to continue to recover. I am not willing to sabotage my health and well being simply to get some sympathy. I am a warrior! And I am late for work! Dammit! Darnit! Talk to you later, kiddos, wherever you are and whenever later is. Now go eat something! Stay hydrated! Floss, but only if you feel like it/want to keep your teeth! Weird way to end this post. Bye!

1 comment:

Heidi said...

Hippie Monkkie playing keytar.