I guess it’s another one of those nights…

Oct 11

Peanut butter sandwich? Anyone?
Tuesdays are strange. Babies are screaming. I’d kill for a bubble bath!

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Things I’m currently loving…

Jun 20

Chobani Greek Yogurt

My Moby Wrap

Frosted Mini Wheats (Cinnamon Streusel!)

Dunkin Donuts Coffee

Obsessively checking weather.com

Mandarin Lime Energy Hand Soap

My Earth Therapeutics Sleep Mask

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Just another freak in the freak kingdom

Apr 25

A bounding pulse races through wires only to be temporarily halted at various points throughout the day. It is subject to sudden stops and starts, perhaps making it vulnerable but also always prepared to move.

Surprising amounts of time have passed since I’ve had the urge to cut my blonde locks or embellish this skin with more colour. I thought I’d beaten that part of myself, beaten it out like a Mexican rug on a hot summer day. But that element of self reinvention always reemerges. Perhaps it is this nuance which keeps this bird’s heart beating. Like a hummingbird, I spend so much energy flying that I must nurture body and mind constantly. And also like a hummingbird, so comfortable flying and racing about, I now find there mere task of walking absolutely painful.

Does society hold a special place for dreamers? Not the kind that live stagnant with their heads in the atmosphere (though surely it must be hard to breathe up there too). Rather, the dreamers who live fast paced, productive lives. The dreamers who follow direction, like loyal cattle…quiet and prolific, yet always keeping one eye out for the next great escape. We are the seekers.

Extraordinary thoughts and words flutter from the brains of a select few. These select few, if only I could gather them up, place them in my pocket, and pull them out in time for tea. But alas, tea time is different in all parts of this great, great world.

Marilyn knows what I mean.

And all I really want is to see real french ballet…

And drink real champagne…

And perhaps intimidate the masses.

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Let me paint you a picture.

Apr 19

It’s a Monday night, and I’m spending it with the White Stripes. Speaking of stripes, blue striped pajama pants cover cold legs curled upwards against bony ribs. Baskets of fresh laundry litter my closet–if one could call it a closet. Funny, I actually don’t have a closet. I have a clothing room. Does that make any sense? Well it happened like this: I had an empty room attached to my office. I also had many clothes. And too many shoes to count. So I gave them all their very own room. The most perfect two rooms of the house really, a brilliant design if I may say so myself.

As I procrastinate putting away clean laundry, leaving it to sit and wrinkle in baskets, thoughts flash across my brain like meteors. Did I accomplish enough today? Will I accomplish enough tomorrow? Destiny is calling me so I open up my EAGER eyes, put on my seat belt and prepare for a bumpy ride.

And tomorrow when mumbles pass through groggy lips about the nuisance of having to iron at 6:00 a.m., I will remember, “well, at least your nails are painted, silly girl.”

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I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir, because I’m not myself you see.

Mar 18

Awake, press buttons, coffee on. Eyes meticulously lined, exaggerated so far as to distract from countless other flaws. Wardrobe strewn about as groggy eyes try to place pieces of cloth over a cold body. Forty-five minutes later, hair is placed, coffee is poured and cereal is eaten. The same amount, at the same time, with the same spoon, every day.

One day, I am going to be something great. Working hard makes my blood rush. Stress is something I loathe and seek all at once. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. Release. Sometimes, I wish I could show others all the colors I see and all the feelings I feel. A sort of intentional bloodletting of passionate garbage. Holding back is hard, a delicate balance. Cause for almost constant awkwardness.

And at the end of my whirlwind of a day, coffee is pepared for the next morning. No matter how tired, I will always sugar coat the state of my household with a false sense of order. Even if I know it’s fake. It looks sort of real…real enough to allow me to lather, rinse and repeat the next day. And I will keep dreaming of Paris, so long as I shall live.

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