The color blue makes me think of “sapphire sky” from “The Lion King.” (For the record, I don’t like doing the title dance—figuring out if a title needs to be in quotations or not is not my forte. And since doing said dance sucks up more time than I care to measure, maybe in the future I will not give two cents or a rat’s arse about rules because this is my blog and I am free to do whatever I want here.) I just thought you should know, whoever you are.
My nose is cold right now, but I’m not a dog. (Obviously.)
There’s a spot at work I like to go sometimes on my breaks just to catch some sun rays because it’s inside and that means I don’t have to take a walk outside around the building. I feel warm and like I’m at a gas station for people, filling up on vitamin D. (Well, I guess technically my skin produces vitamin D after sunlight exposure, but yeah.)
Back when I was living in Columbia I had my Xanga and I did pizza taste test blog posts comparing different pizzas from different restaurants around town and chain places as well. All this talk of pizza lately makes me want to do a 2.0 version for Kansas City.
The words never come at the time you want them to.
The joy of Christmas didn’t hit me until yesterday morning, Christmas morning, when I put on some Christmas music and started dancing to it in my underwear. Shh! :X (*gasp* I know, you’re not supposed to know this, but I’m telling you anyway. I blame ConCru. Since meeting them and writing with them I’ve become a little more personal in my writing, although still shy about sharing my deepest, darkest secrets. I mean there’s more than one way to do this, obviously, but while taking writing classes at university I developed the belief that a really good writer is not afraid to get dirrty and show the detailed truth about living.) It occurred to me that dancing in my underwear is like dancing in a bikini. And it made me laugh like little gems of revelation usually do. And it made me look at my body in the mirror. And it made me realize that yeah, I don’t look exactly like those pictures in the magazines or a pageant contestant during the swimsuit competition, but I like what I see in the mirror. And that my lovelies, was a reason to be joyous all in itself.
2015 is wrapping up and I feel different somehow. It feels like that time in college when I went to a pub with a friend for the first time just to try it and I ordered a Sex on the Beach and tried that for the first time as well. It wasn’t bad. I kind of still remember what the cocktail tastes like and I would have it again if the opportunity presented itself, but I had to take it home in a to-go cup and it sat in my fridge for a week, with me working on it daily before I finished the whole thing.
I remember telling my friends about that experience and they were shocked, especially the guys. It still makes me laugh when I think of that moment. They told me it wouldn’t be hard to beat me in a drinking game and they are right, even if we never tried it. That won’t be necessary.
I’m doing the same thing now with a slice of cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. It’s their Peppermint Bark Cheesecake and I haven’t been able to finish it in one sitting so it’s sitting in the fridge until it’s all done, me working on it daily. It probably won’t take a whole week, but a couple of days nevertheless. It’s incredible how rich a single slice of cheesecake is. Incredible.
But yeah, this is what I feel like—like 2015 is the year I’ve experienced something richly new and I’m taking my time feeling it out, still with many uncertainties hanging over my head. I’m enjoying the ride though. Just riding this wave out coolly, like Crush from “Finding Nemo.”
When I don’t have my glasses on I’m always afraid someone is smiling at me and I didn’t smile back. Or I missed something in someone’s facial expressions that reveals something I need to know about them related to me and I’ll never get it back and can’t ask them about it because that’s just weird. But then again, I’m weird. I try to look at someone normally like I can see them clearly, but for those few moments, there’s no way to know exactly what I’m looking at.
Well, duh. It’s all blurry. Maybe it’s like you’re looking straight on to the future, yet at the same time all the lines haven’t connected all the dots so the drawing is left hanging, a group of dots scattered around some blank spaces like a constellation. But what does it mean exactly if you’re looking at a blurry face? That person is somehow a part of the future you can’t identify?
Nah. It doesn’t work like that. Plus you can’t mix reality with philosophy. Today I was thinking about the old philosophical question about the chair and proving it doesn’t exist. A high school friend told me about this one. It goes something like this:
“Prove to me this chair does not exist.”
I mean, it makes me smile secretly to myself whenever I think of it, but I wonder how you really prove something doesn’t exist, you know? How would I prove I didn’t exist?
There are times I want to leave where I am and go live somewhere far away from rules. I want to escape to some exotic island where it’s sunny most of the time, peaceful, and I can do whatever I want without worrying about paying the bills, driving from place to place, and not feel judged for doing whatever I want. No thoughts about planning for the future. That’s not allowed on this island.
This morning I almost didn’t make it. To work. My car hit some black ice and I slid all over the place like an Etch A Sketch until I lost total control and ended up on the grass on the side of the road, about to go on the ramp to the highway, after having just missed hitting a yield sign. I feel like I skipped a breath before putting my car into Park. Then, behind me, a tow truck showed up, police lights blazing, stopped next to me. The driver came out and walked up to my window. He asked if I’m alright. In a daze, I sputtered out, “I don’t know. I have no idea…” He told me to stay put and he’ll take a look at my car. He told me everything seems to be fine. I only slid around a little on ice as he did.
Then he pointed at the grassy area in front and told me how to get back on the highway.