i’m not irish.
but kiss me anyway.
we can play pretend.
all gas, no brakes!
i’ve been guilty of putting the pedal to the metal a little more often than i should.
for someone who despises running, i often find myself charging forward and barreling into situations – the irony isn’t lost on me.
my boots have lead bottoms. and slowing down isn’t nearly as exciting as diving in.
head first.
one of my besties recently told me i was unpredictable. and i was shocked, but the truth is: i sorta am.
change is exciting. and life is full of possibilities.
it may not be wise mind, but it’s 100% me. and i’m realizing that’s a lot more fun.
and fun makes me happy.
choose happy.
someone once told me: good things don’t come easy. and love leaves hard.
and while i may have once agreed with that statement. (emphatically!) i don’t now.
i have learned that good things pop up when you least expect or anticipate them. and that love doesn’t need to leave hard. sometimes it goes and even though you thought you’d be devastated, you find yourself smiling. bigger than you ever have. or thought was possible.
and through it all, you write.
you write because you need to.
because you love it.
because without it you feel incomplete.
because it’s your disease, your vice, and your obsession.
because it’s what makes you feel right in your skin.
because it’s one of the few times you allow yourself to be completely vulnerable.
because it’s how you connect.
because there is nothing in the world that liberates you in the same way.
and because it makes you happy.
i hope everyone has as happy a heart as i do.
happy hump day.
a pickle can never be a cucumber.
a couple weeks ago i found myself in the midst of a pickle. regarding a boy. one from my past. after being away for nearly 2 years, he was back in sd (the city). and wanted to be in sd (the person ~ i’m crass, get over it). and while i had real feelings for said boy at one point, i found myself fairly uninterested in a reunion.
it seemed pointless to me. and i wondered if somehow i was operating out of fear. the thought of conquering any fears and his constant insistence that we meet up led me to finally agree. he wanted to come to my place (shocking, right? scumbag alert #1). i refused. and we settled upon a smoothie place. i was ordering when he arrived. he walked up & placed his order too. i already had my wallet out. he didn’t reach for his. (scumbag alert #2). now, don’t get me wrong…when it comes to boys i could date a prince or a pauper, makes no difference to me as long as he’s genuine. but i still think he should’ve sprung for the smoothie. and i was irritated that he didn’t. i may be crass, i may be too honest, but i’m still old-fashioned. i don’t kiss on first dates and think boys should pay for things (at least in the beginning…because everyone knows once i’m yours, i’ll give you everything in the world. except anal pleasure). and i’m worth it.
i was tempted to leave, but took a deep breath and decided to make the most of my brief time with him. it was a chilly day. we were sitting outside and it got breezy. he suggested we go to my place. NOT HAPPENING. so, then he suggested we sit in a warm car. i knew what he was hoping would happen, but i had goosebumps (from the cold. not him) and so i went with it…
what he had in mind was very different from what i had in mind. and i struggled to keep the conversation platonic and neutral. he could sense my frostiness. in fact, he once referred to me as an ‘ice queen.’ hardly! my real friends know i wear my heart on my sleeve and i’m always hopeful about the potential that exists within a connection. he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that someone wouldn’t be interested in him. news flash: it takes more than a pretty face to enthrall me. then, i saw the lightbulb go off in his head ‘you met someone.’ umm, not so much. more like i got to know myself better. and what i need. and it wasn’t what was in front of me.
it struck me that this boy that i had once been so interested in wasn’t nearly as appealing as he had been. truth be told, i didn’t find him appealing at all. (the discovery of some ‘white lies’ he told didn’t help the matter. be honest, boys! ALWAYS. or you’ll lose a great thing. namely, me.)
the cucumber had soured. and would never be the same.
who’s your daddy?
my head is spinning. i have become enamored with an unlikely mentor. papa hemingway has spent the better part of my morning capturing my heart.
when i was at hemingway’s house i bought a few books. the one i am currently reading is ‘ernest hemingway on writing’…and i’m surprised to find that his thoughts & mine are often the same. i have great respect for old ernest & his crafty ability, but i never anticipated sharing so many similar thoughts with a perpetually drunk misogynist. perhaps i should’ve been born a male?
some gems from old e:
‘writing is something that you can never do as well as it can be done. it is a perpetual challenge and it is more difficult than anything else that i have ever done-so i do it. and it makes me happy when i do it well.’ (i think i said this exact thing last night…and reiterated it this morning)
‘do you suffer when you write? i don’t at all. suffer like a bastard when don’t write, or just before and feel empty and fucked out afterwards. but never feel as good as while writing.’ (it’s like he pulled the thoughts right out of my head)
‘there is no future in anything. i hope you agree. that is why i like it at a war. every day and every night there is a strong possibility that you will get killed and not have to write. i have to write to be happy whether i get paid for it or not. but it is a hell of a disease to be born with. i like to do it. which is even worse. that makes it even worse. that makes it from a disease into a vice. then i want to do it better than anybody has ever done it which makes it into an obsession. an obsession is terrible. hope you haven’t gotten any. that’s the only one I’ve got left.’ (this is the one that cemented my love for my dear ernest. i couldn’t have said it better myself…though i shall try.)
sdinsd 