"What's wrong?" "There's something off about you lately"

What am I supposed to say to that? Do I reply in my native tongue, (sarcasm) "How observant of you!"

What is wrong with me? Why am I here when I'm not sure I want to be? More and more I think that this love I feel is for a person that never really existed. A love based on lies, on deception. Aside from that there is this desire to find myself. To be who I want to be. To do me, without worrying about him.

That's an easy enough thing to do right. I mean in order for me to do me, I don't even have to leave. I can do me and still be here. All the inevitable fights over my new priorities are in the future, not to be chewed over now in the hypothetical. Let the chips fall where they may, let me seek out that which makes me happy.

Old musty smelling books, big comfy chairs, cute girls with dark hair, dark eyeliner and the soul to match. Girls that I needn't worry about the hypothetical future and love triangles. Girls to flirt with, make out with, and touch just for fun.

Writing stories, escapades, sordid love affairs of broken people.

I don't even know how many times I've been here. Not here, my blog, but, here, this place in my head. The place that says it's time to move on. The place that says the love has dried up, the desire is gone, the only thing keeping me here are the tears they shed. The tears and the sadness I feel responsible for keeping at bay.

We fight, we say things, I think both of us knowing that the end isn't near. The end has come and gone. We deny the truth. We pretend we don't know the love we feel for each other is merely a ghost. We reach out to each other with fingers that know the way, but with a heart that's sleeping.

How long can we live in this hell? Feeling feelings that are long gone and wishing they weren't. Drying tears with promises that things will be ok. With fears of hurting not each other but the ones we love the most. Do we play this game we promised we would never play? Back when we promised to love each other just a little more than we loved them. Back when I was young and dumb and in love? She's just a ghost too. Just like the feelings, just like the desire, mere memories being played over and over, an old record being played on an old phonograph. Things long gone, just like this relationship.

being in a funk sucks. things have just seem a little off lately. not just somethings, everything. sex, smiles, interactions, everything. i look at him and will myself to feel more than this vague sense that somewhere deep down i love him. i know all, but feel little. i've been unplugged, disconnected, distracted. are there any other ways to say you can't FEEL? perhaps, but u get the picture. I feel like a robot. Maybe this is what you feel like when you come off of feeling like pinochio, (I've got no strings to tie me down, but i was a puppet none the less). i had a few smoke induced revelations last night. some new things to consider. ugh! there are always new things to consider. can't i be less self aware? can't i be a little less curious (curiosity killed the cat u know. I know, I know) maybe cats have suicidal tendencies, if so, i guess i'm more feline than i thought.

The Call of the Night

I need to write. I NEED it. I need it to keep me sane. I need it to put my thoughts together, to help me deal. The problem is that I'm distracted.

I'm distracted by the beautiful views, the crisp cool air, the clean blue skies during the day. They are beautiful to behold, but the elicit barely more than a smile, a brief daydream into the past.

The night sky is another story altogether. I'm distracted by the millions of twinkling stars at night (did you know there are other constellations besides the big dipper?) Distracted by a sky so black it seems a living thing intent on consuming me. I stand outside in the cold night air, a kink in my neck and stare. Stare at the stars I had almost forgotten about. Stare with that suspicion that there are still more to be seen on just the right night, at just the right time. Millions more, brilliant twinkling stars, begging me to stay and watch. To lay down on the cold dirty concrete, near the bags and boxes of debris we've collected, and watch.

The call of the night comming from within me. Encoded on my dna durring millions of years of evolution. By every ancestor leading back the evoulutionary lines. Every ancestor walked in daylight with different views, mountains, or valleys, or rivers or even wide open seas. But at night every one of us has looked upon this sky. This night sky almost unchanged since that first creature crawled out of the sea. To watch and wonder and dream.

In this place I am home again.

centralization is almost never a good idea. It doesn't work well in nature, doesn't work well in business. for some reason we are drawn to it. thinking it will lead to cheaper, better, faster.

What do we get in return? workers, businesses, and politics that don't care. Each individual worker is lost in the monster company. each individual consumer is just a number. tainted baby formula, toxic drywall, lead laced toys. what else do you get? greedy mega monsters that want their hands in everything. Realtor-Broker-Escrow-Servicing bastards who seek to get every cent they can. It's faster! we are all in house! But it's not faster, in fact, it's also more expensive. no one wants to take responsibility, nor tell off someone who made a vital mistake because this person sits in the next cubicle. loss of business isn't possible, so there is no need to do your best. Shit, no real need to try at all. In the end everyone is a number, and none of those numbers count for anything at all.

FWD:

I hate shopping for clothes. H-A-T-E it. I'm at that akward size where you're too fat for skinny clothes and too small for plus size clothes. Fight as hard I can I just can't make it budge enough. My waist is small but my ass is big. Pants that fit my butt leave a gap in the waist. Right waist, misshapen butt. Big boobs, big arms means that regular sized tops are too tight. plus size tops are either completely with out form, or at plus size specialty stores way too big in the wrong places. I really really hate shopping. It's a big blow to my self esteem and way too frustrating. There are pleanty of fashionable plus size women, who shop at specialty stores that cater to their body type. There are many many more for the skinny people. But nothing for those in between. Do I need to resort to seeing a tailor? take these in here, here, and here, let them out here, and leave everything
else as it is? Sounds expensive.

Rolling My Eyes

R we in the 50's? On The Talk, they unvailed the must have gifts for women. Among the ites were a labler, with pink tape, a special steam iron, and diamond earings. Really? These are the must have's? These are certainly not the things on my wish list. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm lacking a domestic gene. I don't know what I want for christmas but I know what I don't want. They also had TiVo on the list. You know how we women get when we miss our stories! I mean come on!
This brings up the question, what should have been on that list.
1. Boots, sexy, lucious boots (hold the fur, this isn't Alaska)
2. A book. Yes a book by my favorite author shows that u know a little about me.
3. A big, flashy, fake, jeweled ring. A ring that makes a statement. A ring that says "here's ur way of striking up a convo with me."
4. a spa day!
5. A maid (for just one day would be enough)

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