remarque

Note to self:

*sit down
*eat food
*massage your butt (and calves and scalp and thighs and shoulders and maybe even splurge occasionally and pay for someone to rub these body parts for you, preferably someone with the hands of a god(dess))
*sit down
*eat food
*maybe try to sleep longer than 5 hours each night
*maybe try not to stay up until 4am watching reruns of bad reality shows so that you can get more than 5 hours of sleep each night and/or not turn your already mushy brain into an even mushier mess
*make (and keep) all of those scary appointments you've been meaning to make for, well, years
*don't let money stop you from LIVING YOUR DREAMS!!! unless your dream is to go up into space with Richard Branson cuz that shit'll cost you at least 69 million dollars. 69 million sexy dollars. dollar? but I hardly know her.
*be consistent with your capitalization and punctuation
*oh yeah, meditate. forgot about that one, the one that is probably the most important one. well, I suppose the "eat food" is the most important one.
*slow down, in pretty much every way
*stop feeling guilty -- or at least start feeling guilty about the "right" things (and then get rid of that guilt by changing your behavior -- is it really that simple?! yep.)
*keep writing, even if it's 69% of the time shit
*clean up your frickin' language, potty mouth! just shittin' you.
*connect -- with others, with yourself, with the earth. peace, brother. peace, sister. peace, mother. peace, father. what the fudge am I saying.
*hey, your intuition has time and time again proven to be pretty spot on, so perhaps now is the time to start listening to and following it.
*listen
*speak
*sit the hell down
*eat some damn food

love you

pullman

Well. I was, shall we say, slightly frantic in the previous post. We shall. We shall say that. Or I shall. And I did. I did shall. Shall we move on? New day, new post, Newsies was my favorite movie as a child and it was tied with A League of Their Own and Bill Pullman was an actor in both of those movies and so you would think that seeing or hearing about Mr. Bill Pullman now would bring back a flood of memories and a tsunami of nostalgia, but nope. Sorry, Bill. Except why am I apologizing to Bill Pullman? He won't read this, he doesn't care, it's not as if his entire existence rested on me feeling nostalgic at the sight of him. So I take back my apology and instead I say in a slightly frantic voice, "Screw you, Pullman! Screw you and your children and your children's children!" If he dies tomorrow, I am going to delete this post.

Where was I? Nowhere. And what a perfect place to be! You see, I am one who feels compelled to constantly move and change what I am doing and what I am seeing and where I am being. In other words, I can't be. I can't just be still or be nowhere. OR CAN I?! I can. I can! And I know this because I have been still, I have been (perfectly) nowhere for the past several days. Not by choice. Definitely not by choice. My body decided one morning, "That's it. I'm exhausted. You have put me through the wringer and I QUIT. Or at least I am taking a prolonged vacation." Then my body packed its bags and nearly slammed the door. Okay, wait. That makes it sound like I am now a ghost. I am not now a ghost, although hahaha sometimes I totally feel like a zombie robot ghost hahahahahaha lololololol 4ever. But I am not a ghost. I am just a physically worn out slightly frantic entirely adorable girl who was never and will never be in love with Bill Pullman. That is just who I am. And I am being forced to acknowledge and, hopefully, accept this. I am also aware that that is not all of who I am -- and I am curious who else I might be? Who is this person I'm with 24/7 and who I treat like garbage? Maybe she ain't so bad, maybe she ain't a pile of fish bones and some old banana peels. Maybe she's worth getting to know.

So get I must. I must get to know myself before I decide to destroy myself. I have a hunch the desire to destroy will vanish once I stop to listen and see, really see. My body may have gone away on vacation, but I am returning and unpacking.

It's good to be home.

back

It's been a long time, doofuses. Doofusses. Doofis? Jesus, this is how I begin a new post? After months and months away? By calling my one or two readers a mean name? Doofus isn't mean, though. Doofus is playful! Playful isn't mean! Except for playful is usually mean, huh. Like, I'm pulling your pigtails and chasing you around the playground! PLAYFUL. (No, mean! I don't care if you have a crush on me, causing my scalp pain and making me feel like prey is NOT playful.)

Let me start over.

Hi! I'm back!

I can't tell you exactly why I took a several-month break from blogging -- and writing in general. Sure, I composed witty one-liners in 140 characters or less multiple times a day. And sure, I often sent my best friend some really clever texts. But writing writing (you know, something substantial, longer than a paragraph, not about how much I loathe the rotting pumpkin "president") ceased. Suddenly. Just one morning I woke up and went, "Nah." Nah to what? Nah to rambling on and on about nothing in particular? Yes, but those ramblings served some kind of purpose, if even just to myself. They were (and are) a release. They illuminated a path I did not know existed and sometimes even created one I didn't know I needed. My "ramblings" are a way to connect with myself and, I pray to buddha, a way to connect with others.

Okay, I feel cuckoo brains right now. I am struggling with finding words and forming sentences and figuring out what it is that's inside of me that wants to get out. I am simultaneously thinking too much and not enough. I am crippling myself with doubt. I am I am I am I am I am I am I am I

am going to stop stopping myself. Starting now. Okay! So here I am! Vulnerable and unsure and pretending to be A-OK with all of it! Fake it 'till you make it, doofuses. Lovely doofuses. Brilliant, intelligent, capable, inspiring doofuses. My favorite doofuses in the world, to be quite honest.
And I am nothing if not quite honest.

My plan today was to write. I was to spend hours upon hours diving deep into my psyche, extracting all kinds of hidden gems and, yes, pearls. So far I have rambled (which is fine! yes! fine!), shopped for socks online, parted my hair in the middle, applied red lipstick three times, chewed on four trays-worth of ice cubes, read about Buddhist nuns in Nepal, did a load of wash, made my bed, browsed through a couple of cookbooks, tidied up my email, walked around in circles in the living room, and changed my outfit twice despite being home alone with no one around to impress except for my never impressed inner critic. So. I guess plans change.

And they can keep changing, so maybe my original plan that became sidetracked by other plans can be sidetracked again and placed back on the intended track. You know, two sidetracks make a track. Wait, what? I've become sidetracked again. No, not sidetracked, just confused. Typical! And that's okay! Okay. OKAY. Time to delude myself into believing this post is worthy of publishing. I am not even going to include any fun pictures right now. I am just going to hit publish and pray that my doofuses will forgive me for... well, for a lot. For disappearing for months, for reappearing with a less-than-amazing post, for playfully referring to you as doofuses, for not saving any ice cubes for you. I am sorry. I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you a sno-cone and stop chasing you on the playground. But quit my ramblings? I can't and never will make that promise.