If every day were just like the day before...than I assume that life would be disturbingly boring. Though the thought of the most incredible days of your life continuing on and on sounds more than minorly appealing to me right now. I realize that having great things happen over and over and over would be devastating to the realization of what "great things" actually feel like, because without failure-we do not know success, and without fear-we do not know to be courageous, and without the depths of pain...we do not know the heights of joy. In the funky stank feeling that often comes up in my life right now, the latter explanation of opposites seems like my second or even third choice. Don't worry, this isn't a "poor me" post :). It's a ...why the hell is life so confusing and I can't figure out things that most people younger than me can, and who really knows the truth about what they say, and what's the point without THE point??...post.
The practicality of simplicity is something that I've been wanting for years. It's even tattooed on my right forearm (outer elbow area, not full on frontal..I thought it was more unique).
The Simple Life Ten-Step
Step 1. Wake up
Step 2. Blink a lot
Step 3. Bathe (let's be honest, if you know me well- than insert something else)
Step 4. Work
Step 5. Whatever you do after work
Step 6. Wind down
Step 7. Change into the jams
Step 8. Blink a lot
Step 9. Fall asleep
Step 10. Fart once your body fully relaxes
Why can't I figure this out ..?
Some days, Step 1. feels like quite a lot
There are so many things in my life to love and be thankful for, and I'm so appreciative of the love that is given back to me.
I just neeeeeeed to slam dunk the funk in my trunk.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
I used to Xanga
So this blogging thing is back in full swing.
It's something that used to be daily, my fling.
Of thoughts, prayers, and dreams of all sizes
No masks, no smoke and mirror disguises
Alarming, my sense of self has grown dim
Days that breeze past, almost quicker than wind
The case that surrounds my dear heart has cracked open
Parts of my ego and self have grown swollen
Fear tugs a "no- that's too much honesty"
But honestly what am I cracked up to be?
A saint of a lady with no closet to close?
Or a sinner who's come from the closet, you suppose.
A painting with smudges, and wrinkles, and blurs
An ache through my skin like those small, pokey burrs
A breathe that is squeezed from lungs of a lover
With all too much loss, from the wounds of a mother
A hope in a Man who has not failed me yet
Though my list of answers He has not filled yet
So sit here, may I - with questions unfolding
Throw out the cynical buzz you've been holding
A glimpse at a life that just happens to be
Yours for the taking, however you see
Fit with no faking, just sim.pli.ci.ty.
It's something that used to be daily, my fling.
Of thoughts, prayers, and dreams of all sizes
No masks, no smoke and mirror disguises
Alarming, my sense of self has grown dim
Days that breeze past, almost quicker than wind
The case that surrounds my dear heart has cracked open
Parts of my ego and self have grown swollen
Fear tugs a "no- that's too much honesty"
But honestly what am I cracked up to be?
A saint of a lady with no closet to close?
Or a sinner who's come from the closet, you suppose.
A painting with smudges, and wrinkles, and blurs
An ache through my skin like those small, pokey burrs
A breathe that is squeezed from lungs of a lover
With all too much loss, from the wounds of a mother
A hope in a Man who has not failed me yet
Though my list of answers He has not filled yet
So sit here, may I - with questions unfolding
Throw out the cynical buzz you've been holding
A glimpse at a life that just happens to be
Yours for the taking, however you see
Fit with no faking, just sim.pli.ci.ty.
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