as some of you may know, based on my brilliant tweets that i hashtag #nannyproblems or #nannyperks, i am a professional caregiver of minor children. actually, i watch kids because i've always been a mama bear (big sister big-time) and i love children, and nannying pays pretty well and was workable around my ever-changing college schedule. anyway, constantly working with kids has led to some of the craziest sentences ever uttered flying out of my mouth, including some things i never thought i would have to say.
"get that out of your mouth!" (this one happens about 4 times per hour.)
"don't play with your feet." > "don't play with your feet at the table." > "don't touch your feet and your food." > "go wash your hands now that you've been playing with your dirty feet." (you see where i'm going with this strain.)
"get off your sister/brother."
"is that where your hands belong?"
"put your underwear back on before you come out of the bathroom!"
"[brother], do not touch your sister there!"
"no, food doesn't come out of my shirt like mommy." (i've answered questions on this topic more than i would have ever thought necessary.)
you get the drift. kids are awful. just kidding. but the most common phrase i find myself saying to my kiddos is this:
"be careful!"
whether they're leaping over the furniture, trying out gymnastics moves, cannonballing into the pool, or play-wrestling a sibling, they're having a blast and i'm the nuisance in the background reminding them of the annoying rules for safety. and i realized the other day, i never have to tell them to be careful when they can hear me speaking at a normal level. my voice is always raised when i deliver this warning, because it must reach my little guys over their squeals of delight and hysterical laughter.
so i started wondering... are we always at risk of getting hurt when we're having fun?
when you're a little kid, you're building and crashing pillow piles and sliding off the couch. so fun! but you could get rug-burn, hit your head, crash into the floor at a bad angle, bump into your brother/sister, or a million other things that might possibly happen that could hurt like hell.
when you're in middle school, you're perhaps playing with fire, maybe stealing beers from your friend's parent's basement for the first time, riding your bike too fast, making out in closets. i don't need to tell you all the things that could go wrong with those scenarios, like burning your eyebrows off, getting drunk before you know what the hell that's all about, crashing and skinning your knees or worse, or ruining your expectations or reputation.
by adolescence, you're driving your car too fast, maybe drinking more, getting wild at concerts, trying out smoking or pot, doing more than making out in the closet, falling in love for the first time. there's nothing more fun at that age, and nothing more dangerous. especially the love part. you know the risks - getting into a car accident, drinking too much and getting sick or hurt, getting a fist to the face in a mosh-pit or losing your voice, developing a life-changing habit, making a mistake you're not ready for, getting your heart broken.
at each of these stages, your babysitter or teacher or parents call out to you to be careful, to make good choices, to watch your step, because they know all these things are what you call having fun. they also know how easy it is to get hurt having fun.
now that i'm 22, things haven't changed much. i still have to be careful, and there's more to lose now than ever before. but the fun is funner too; is that the natural progression of things? the more fun it is, the more careful you have to be, the more risk there is involved. now, though, instead of bumping my head or crashing my bike or being teased about something i may or may not have done, i could lose a job. i could lose respect from people whose respect i value. i could make a wrong choice on one of those crazy-super-i-can't-believe-how-much fun nights that will change everything forever: too much to drink, getting in the car with the wrong person, driving when i shouldn't, letting someone else whom i love do something they shouldn't, unsafe sex, and maybe the most likely risk of all, leaving my heart unprotected.
is being at risk of getting hurt a defining characteristic of having fun? is there a connection we make, maybe subconsciously, between how dangerous something is and how much fun it is? i can't honestly think of anything i have fun doing now that doesn't carry some kind of risk, that my mother wouldn't caution me to "be careful." even a beach trip with my close friends proved to be dangerous a few weeks ago when a case of sun poisoning gripped two of us and lingered for a week, making even walking impossible. last time i went to a concert i was nearly sick to my stomach from heat stroke. every time i get in the car for a drive, i have to be careful. each sip of beer, even when i'm not drinking to excess, can be risky. even going out to dinner with friends or on a date. there are dangers everywhere surrounding the fun we most value.
i dare say that if you're not taking a risk, if there's no danger lurking, if there's no way you could get hurt... well, it seems you're not having enough fun.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
you can run
tagged:
challenge,
dialogue,
fiction,
indie ink,
your favorites
i took a quick (and partially accidental) hiatus but i'm back in it! a little random fiction to feed you wild beasts comes out of this week's indieink challenge. amanda challenged me with "she wasn't a pretty girl," and my prompt went out to the fabulous octoberesque. be sure to check out these gals as well as the rest of this week's participants!
---
ry peered over the rims of his glasses, trying to make out the figure that cast the shadow over the pages of his book without looking anxious or staring. was it someone looking at him? had the line grown that long that it reached him at the opposite end of the store? he had to be careful in a place like this, not to attract attention or cause a scene, for such an episode would disrupt the harmony he had so carefully searched for. when he first started wasting time in this coffee shop months ago, it was a perfectly safe hide-away for someone like him. obscure, completely buried in a tiny little suburb, the staff and exposed brick walls both full of character and the gossip of a past generation. no one would notice him here because this town, this street, this overstuffed chair in the back corner of joe's cafe never held anything worth noticing. that's why ry loved it here. that's why he chose this place to spend his free time, with horn-rimmed glasses, a baseball cap, and an uncharacteristic pleather jacket to mask his identity. he would dawdle for hours, his ipod cranking instrumental jazz, crouched over his beaten down copy of the catcher in the rye or some other acclaimed classic with a dry cappuccino that he'd nurse for as long as possible so as not to be kicked out for breaking the "customers only" rule.
he quickly determined that the shadow, now gone, had come from a young woman who was now at the counter. she was putting her cell phone back into her purse; ry assumed the lingering shadow was from her pausing to finish the call before ordering her extra large skinny caramel latte. heh ry laughed to himself. must be lost. no one with an outfit like that lives anywhere around here. her professionally pressed high-waisted skirt and tight blouse, perfectly manicured nails and toes, and perfectly brushed hair all screamed "i have no idea where the hell i am and don't want to stick around long enough to find out." she wasn't exactly a pretty girl, ry noticed, just well-kept. her flaws were obvious. her eyes were set just a bit too far apart. her nose was just a little too pointy to be cute. an almost-heart-shaped birthmark covered much of her right cheek. a cluster of freckles characterized her upper right arm, almost distracting from the pattern on her blouse. her heels were sky-high patent leather black pumps with the trademark red soles. while she didn't exactly have classic good looks - which ry preferred; he had an affinity toward anything considered "classic" - she struck ry. it was almost as if she knew how far she was from beautiful and just didn't care. she had a confidence about her that made her genetic misfortune unimportant.
ry tried to be surreptitious as he watched her. she had this way of gliding over the floor, something that baffled him because of those high heels. he watched her for no more than a few minutes but felt a sense of camaraderie with her during those few minutes. he searched her for a clue of who she was, what she was from, what lead her here. it didn't occur to him for even a moment that he might have been the answer to the latter.
she beamed a smile at the clerk and thanked him as he handed over her coffee. she inspected the writing on the side, placed the hot cup in a cardboard sleeve, and turned to the milk and sugar station. two sweet 'n' low. ry had raised his book and watched her sneakily while the fake glasses disguised the direction of his eyes. had he seen her before? was she famous or something? this was probably something ry would have known right away, but he didn't exactly recognize her. he just felt as if he recognized a quality of hers, like something in her mirrored something in him. while he watched, she set down her coffee and designer purse and did one of the strangest things ry had ever seen.
after a cursory glance around the tiny cafe, this girl decided no one was watching her and reached her hands into the bins full of honey and artificial sweeteners. she emptied every last packet into her giant suitcase of a pocketbook.
what. the. hell? ry thought. she could afford those designer clothes and accessories but had to steal splenda? weird. but, everyone had their quirks. maybe that was, in fact, how she was able to afford brand names. who knows why people do the crazy things they do? ry certainly didn't. and seeing this bizarre behavior by this strange girl did little to temper his curiosity. to the contrary, however, he found himself even more intrigued than before. who was this woman, why was she here stealing sugar, and why, oh god why, was he drawn to her like a magnet?
before he could make sense of why or even, really, what was happening, the girl was sauntering toward him. maybe she's going to clean out the toilet paper stock and tampon machines in the bathroom too ry thought to himself. the woman bypassed the restroom doors, though, and walked with purpose right to where ry was sitting. she acted as if she belonged there, she stood with such self-assurance, that ry's heart leapt. was this that movie moment he'd come to expect was impossible to achieve in real life? where two people end up in a random place at a random time and instantly just know, and begin building a life together right then and there? was she the one? not that he was searching for the one, or for anything at all for that matter. he had given up on the search and was now dedicated to the run. was this something he could stand still for, even for a second?
he set his book on the table but hesitated to speak. he was still trying to remain incognito, and maybe this wasn't anything other than some girl asking to borrow a pen. before he had to figure it out, she took the duty from him and spoke first.
"you don't recognize me, do you?"
"no, i'm sorry, i don't... have we met?"
"not exactly. my name is kathryn," she extended a hand, "and yours?"
"ryan," he took her delicate fingers in his. "ry. mcgarrick. do we know each other, are you famous or something?" he smirked, baffled but delighted.
"well, we knew each other once," she said, cautiously. "you really don't recognize me?" ry shook his head.
"that's too bad. i was hoping for a more climatic ending to our story. try real hard to piece it together. here, i'll stand still for a minute." kathryn stood stick straight and let ry look her over. when his face registered no signs of recognition, she twisted her own into the mask of terror and pain she wore the last time they had met, fourteen years ago. with her features rearranged in such a way, ry began to remember. the walk down the city street. the dark. the touching. the startle. the chase. the attack.
the blood drained from his face as he hurdled to the door, pulling the collar of his jacket up as he went, nearly knocking incoming patrons over as he scurried out. kathryn eased into the chair he'd been occupying and pulled out her phone. you can keep running, motherfucker, she thought to herself as she reviewed the pictures she'd taken of him and his car on her iphone, but i found you.
---
ry peered over the rims of his glasses, trying to make out the figure that cast the shadow over the pages of his book without looking anxious or staring. was it someone looking at him? had the line grown that long that it reached him at the opposite end of the store? he had to be careful in a place like this, not to attract attention or cause a scene, for such an episode would disrupt the harmony he had so carefully searched for. when he first started wasting time in this coffee shop months ago, it was a perfectly safe hide-away for someone like him. obscure, completely buried in a tiny little suburb, the staff and exposed brick walls both full of character and the gossip of a past generation. no one would notice him here because this town, this street, this overstuffed chair in the back corner of joe's cafe never held anything worth noticing. that's why ry loved it here. that's why he chose this place to spend his free time, with horn-rimmed glasses, a baseball cap, and an uncharacteristic pleather jacket to mask his identity. he would dawdle for hours, his ipod cranking instrumental jazz, crouched over his beaten down copy of the catcher in the rye or some other acclaimed classic with a dry cappuccino that he'd nurse for as long as possible so as not to be kicked out for breaking the "customers only" rule.
he quickly determined that the shadow, now gone, had come from a young woman who was now at the counter. she was putting her cell phone back into her purse; ry assumed the lingering shadow was from her pausing to finish the call before ordering her extra large skinny caramel latte. heh ry laughed to himself. must be lost. no one with an outfit like that lives anywhere around here. her professionally pressed high-waisted skirt and tight blouse, perfectly manicured nails and toes, and perfectly brushed hair all screamed "i have no idea where the hell i am and don't want to stick around long enough to find out." she wasn't exactly a pretty girl, ry noticed, just well-kept. her flaws were obvious. her eyes were set just a bit too far apart. her nose was just a little too pointy to be cute. an almost-heart-shaped birthmark covered much of her right cheek. a cluster of freckles characterized her upper right arm, almost distracting from the pattern on her blouse. her heels were sky-high patent leather black pumps with the trademark red soles. while she didn't exactly have classic good looks - which ry preferred; he had an affinity toward anything considered "classic" - she struck ry. it was almost as if she knew how far she was from beautiful and just didn't care. she had a confidence about her that made her genetic misfortune unimportant.
ry tried to be surreptitious as he watched her. she had this way of gliding over the floor, something that baffled him because of those high heels. he watched her for no more than a few minutes but felt a sense of camaraderie with her during those few minutes. he searched her for a clue of who she was, what she was from, what lead her here. it didn't occur to him for even a moment that he might have been the answer to the latter.
she beamed a smile at the clerk and thanked him as he handed over her coffee. she inspected the writing on the side, placed the hot cup in a cardboard sleeve, and turned to the milk and sugar station. two sweet 'n' low. ry had raised his book and watched her sneakily while the fake glasses disguised the direction of his eyes. had he seen her before? was she famous or something? this was probably something ry would have known right away, but he didn't exactly recognize her. he just felt as if he recognized a quality of hers, like something in her mirrored something in him. while he watched, she set down her coffee and designer purse and did one of the strangest things ry had ever seen.
after a cursory glance around the tiny cafe, this girl decided no one was watching her and reached her hands into the bins full of honey and artificial sweeteners. she emptied every last packet into her giant suitcase of a pocketbook.
what. the. hell? ry thought. she could afford those designer clothes and accessories but had to steal splenda? weird. but, everyone had their quirks. maybe that was, in fact, how she was able to afford brand names. who knows why people do the crazy things they do? ry certainly didn't. and seeing this bizarre behavior by this strange girl did little to temper his curiosity. to the contrary, however, he found himself even more intrigued than before. who was this woman, why was she here stealing sugar, and why, oh god why, was he drawn to her like a magnet?
before he could make sense of why or even, really, what was happening, the girl was sauntering toward him. maybe she's going to clean out the toilet paper stock and tampon machines in the bathroom too ry thought to himself. the woman bypassed the restroom doors, though, and walked with purpose right to where ry was sitting. she acted as if she belonged there, she stood with such self-assurance, that ry's heart leapt. was this that movie moment he'd come to expect was impossible to achieve in real life? where two people end up in a random place at a random time and instantly just know, and begin building a life together right then and there? was she the one? not that he was searching for the one, or for anything at all for that matter. he had given up on the search and was now dedicated to the run. was this something he could stand still for, even for a second?
he set his book on the table but hesitated to speak. he was still trying to remain incognito, and maybe this wasn't anything other than some girl asking to borrow a pen. before he had to figure it out, she took the duty from him and spoke first.
"you don't recognize me, do you?"
"no, i'm sorry, i don't... have we met?"
"not exactly. my name is kathryn," she extended a hand, "and yours?"
"ryan," he took her delicate fingers in his. "ry. mcgarrick. do we know each other, are you famous or something?" he smirked, baffled but delighted.
"well, we knew each other once," she said, cautiously. "you really don't recognize me?" ry shook his head.
"that's too bad. i was hoping for a more climatic ending to our story. try real hard to piece it together. here, i'll stand still for a minute." kathryn stood stick straight and let ry look her over. when his face registered no signs of recognition, she twisted her own into the mask of terror and pain she wore the last time they had met, fourteen years ago. with her features rearranged in such a way, ry began to remember. the walk down the city street. the dark. the touching. the startle. the chase. the attack.
the blood drained from his face as he hurdled to the door, pulling the collar of his jacket up as he went, nearly knocking incoming patrons over as he scurried out. kathryn eased into the chair he'd been occupying and pulled out her phone. you can keep running, motherfucker, she thought to herself as she reviewed the pictures she'd taken of him and his car on her iphone, but i found you.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
who loves ya, baby?
tagged:
family
darlings! i have something wonderful to share. we have another great gal joining us in the blogosphere! don't let the fact that she's my cousin lead you to believe that all the superlatives i will pour upon her aren't warranted.
have you ever thought about going vegetarian? vegan? gluten free? organic? natural foods? if you've considered making such a switch, or already have, please check out michelle's new blog. its brandy new, but will be great! she is gluten free and vegan, and knows quite a bit about living the lifestyle and the reasons why it works for her. i, as you may already know, am not vegan, and i'll still read her - she's not a bully, if you know what i mean. this blog isn't of the skinny bitch variety, where you're a total and complete asshole if you dare to have different eating habits than she. but, if you're looking for some information and real-life stories of dealing with chronic illness(es) and natural remedies to treat them, including adapting your eating habits, long day's journey will definitely be worth a few minutes of your time. so, be the gracious dears that i know you can be and give it a look! even if you haven't considered changing your lifestyle in these ways, you never know what great ideas, recipes, or healthy tricks you might pick up.
enjoy! x
have you ever thought about going vegetarian? vegan? gluten free? organic? natural foods? if you've considered making such a switch, or already have, please check out michelle's new blog. its brandy new, but will be great! she is gluten free and vegan, and knows quite a bit about living the lifestyle and the reasons why it works for her. i, as you may already know, am not vegan, and i'll still read her - she's not a bully, if you know what i mean. this blog isn't of the skinny bitch variety, where you're a total and complete asshole if you dare to have different eating habits than she. but, if you're looking for some information and real-life stories of dealing with chronic illness(es) and natural remedies to treat them, including adapting your eating habits, long day's journey will definitely be worth a few minutes of your time. so, be the gracious dears that i know you can be and give it a look! even if you haven't considered changing your lifestyle in these ways, you never know what great ideas, recipes, or healthy tricks you might pick up.
enjoy! x
Monday, July 11, 2011
back then
tagged:
alyssa,
bio in posts,
flimsy words,
like love,
lusting,
sex
he would kiss me with such purpose, such need, such love. he wasn't always by my side, thanks a lot college. but when i had him here, to myself, or when i was there, navigating his new life with him, it was truly perfect. it was love, the purest love, the innocent love of two kids with nothing to prove. we learned from and taught each other. we grew up with each other, grew into our lives with each other, discovered so much. we played like children, planned like adults, loved like animals, fought like professionals. our hands folded into each other like puzzle pieces, i fit into the space between his arms as if they were made for me. we explored every end of the earth and each other together, needing nothing other than what we had.
they were the funniest, the craziest, the best. my friends made me laugh and challenged me daily. we all had secrets from and with each other. we had lives revolved around and dependent upon one another. we were a family. we fought like one and loved like one. it was freedom from everything we didn't want to be, and permission to act however we wanted. it was the most fun you could imagine. we did everything we weren't supposed to and never got caught. we acted like idiots and grew into grown-ups on the same day. we ate, we drank, we danced, we laughed until we ached. we cried with each other, over each other, to each other. we completed each other.
i had no worries. no complaints. i knew everything would work out because it had to. i had family and friends to support me, i made enough money to cover the measly expenses i had, i got straight As without trying. there were no questions about the future, only hopes. there was no way anything coming to me would be anything less than the greatness i deserved, earned, wanted. no chaos, no decisions, no turmoil, no fear.
when i was 17... it was a very good year.
they were the funniest, the craziest, the best. my friends made me laugh and challenged me daily. we all had secrets from and with each other. we had lives revolved around and dependent upon one another. we were a family. we fought like one and loved like one. it was freedom from everything we didn't want to be, and permission to act however we wanted. it was the most fun you could imagine. we did everything we weren't supposed to and never got caught. we acted like idiots and grew into grown-ups on the same day. we ate, we drank, we danced, we laughed until we ached. we cried with each other, over each other, to each other. we completed each other.
i had no worries. no complaints. i knew everything would work out because it had to. i had family and friends to support me, i made enough money to cover the measly expenses i had, i got straight As without trying. there were no questions about the future, only hopes. there was no way anything coming to me would be anything less than the greatness i deserved, earned, wanted. no chaos, no decisions, no turmoil, no fear.
when i was 17... it was a very good year.
is this thing on?
tagged:
alyssa,
bio in posts,
flimsy words,
writing
hello? testing... check 1, 2, 3.... you guys still out there?
i hate writing these posts, but i have to again. ready for another apology for my absence and more pleading that you'll stick around, even when i can't?
i'm in the middle of a big move (actually i'm moving around the corner, but the subtext of this move is enough for about 30 angsty posts here) which is being dragged out over two weeks, culminating in my first night sleeping in the haunted house this friday. i'm purposely delaying this move and dragging it out as long as possible (the living room, kitchen, and every other bedroom in my house is empty - my room is only missing a few knick-knacks and a space bag full of winter clothes) because i don't want to go - i'll explain why at a later date. suffice it, for now, to say that though i'm only moving a few hundred feet away, this is just one example of and catalyst for all the crazy changes happening around here lately. i almost don't recognize my life anymore; this was definitely not the way things were supposed to go. i'm trying to be optimistic and remember that all the bad or less than positive things going on are only temporary. i heard once that if you want to make god laugh, just tell him you have a plan. i'm realizing what that means now more than ever. in a sense, i like it. i'm 22, what's the sense in having a "plan" right now? this is the only time in my life i can get away with not having a plan, right? i should embrace it and run with it and just roll with the punches, right? ignoring the fact that the punches are of the sucker variety, straight to the gut. ah, such is life. i'm not delusional enough to think that life should be fair and that the circumstances of a recent grad are the same in 2011 as they were 20 years ago. things change, we just gotta adapt or get left behind... that's what i'm told, by people who think they're comforting me. (they're doing it wrong.)
but anyway, with all of the insanity going on around here, between packing up the house, saying goodbye to a lengthy chapter of my life, and the emotional baggage all that brings, i have been completely unable to write. the few minutes of downtime i've been getting lately have been spent crying, drinking heavily (don't worry), and thinking about all the things i should be doing but have absolutely zero motivation to do. does inspiration come in an over-the-counter capsule? let's get to work on that, it's 2011 for chrissakes. i can't even muster the energy to write the things i am paid to write, let alone the just for fun stuff. i'll get back to it, i swear. as soon as i get into that house i'm probably going to be glued to this here mac, setting up shop on the patio with my cigarettes and ideas and isolating myself from the cast of characters i have to live with now - two, for the first time ever, and one for the first time in a decade.
speaking of my ideas, i'm thinking it's time to start acting like a grown-up as far as my writing is concerned. what does this mean? well, i'm not really sure. i'm twenty-fucking-two. but i know a writing career isn't going to fall into my lap, and i'm going to have to make it happen. how? well that all depends on what sort of writing career i want to have. and what would that be, you ask? fuck if i know. i think i'm really on a healthy and mature track right now. duh. maybe the answer will come to me in a dream. i'm going to rely on that for a little bit while i dance around la la land and pretend this isn't actually my life right now. but as soon as i'm done with that, really, i swear, i'll figure out what i want to be when i grow up.
while you're waiting for my dubious return, please don't forget about me. backtrack, read the older posts on here, follow my tweets and tumbles for little wordy appetizers. check out my friends' blogs for some more fantastic reading (links to your right) and please, for the love of god and my sanity, send some good vibes and chipper thoughts my way. i need them, and i miss you.
a xx
i hate writing these posts, but i have to again. ready for another apology for my absence and more pleading that you'll stick around, even when i can't?
i'm in the middle of a big move (actually i'm moving around the corner, but the subtext of this move is enough for about 30 angsty posts here) which is being dragged out over two weeks, culminating in my first night sleeping in the haunted house this friday. i'm purposely delaying this move and dragging it out as long as possible (the living room, kitchen, and every other bedroom in my house is empty - my room is only missing a few knick-knacks and a space bag full of winter clothes) because i don't want to go - i'll explain why at a later date. suffice it, for now, to say that though i'm only moving a few hundred feet away, this is just one example of and catalyst for all the crazy changes happening around here lately. i almost don't recognize my life anymore; this was definitely not the way things were supposed to go. i'm trying to be optimistic and remember that all the bad or less than positive things going on are only temporary. i heard once that if you want to make god laugh, just tell him you have a plan. i'm realizing what that means now more than ever. in a sense, i like it. i'm 22, what's the sense in having a "plan" right now? this is the only time in my life i can get away with not having a plan, right? i should embrace it and run with it and just roll with the punches, right? ignoring the fact that the punches are of the sucker variety, straight to the gut. ah, such is life. i'm not delusional enough to think that life should be fair and that the circumstances of a recent grad are the same in 2011 as they were 20 years ago. things change, we just gotta adapt or get left behind... that's what i'm told, by people who think they're comforting me. (they're doing it wrong.)
but anyway, with all of the insanity going on around here, between packing up the house, saying goodbye to a lengthy chapter of my life, and the emotional baggage all that brings, i have been completely unable to write. the few minutes of downtime i've been getting lately have been spent crying, drinking heavily (don't worry), and thinking about all the things i should be doing but have absolutely zero motivation to do. does inspiration come in an over-the-counter capsule? let's get to work on that, it's 2011 for chrissakes. i can't even muster the energy to write the things i am paid to write, let alone the just for fun stuff. i'll get back to it, i swear. as soon as i get into that house i'm probably going to be glued to this here mac, setting up shop on the patio with my cigarettes and ideas and isolating myself from the cast of characters i have to live with now - two, for the first time ever, and one for the first time in a decade.
speaking of my ideas, i'm thinking it's time to start acting like a grown-up as far as my writing is concerned. what does this mean? well, i'm not really sure. i'm twenty-fucking-two. but i know a writing career isn't going to fall into my lap, and i'm going to have to make it happen. how? well that all depends on what sort of writing career i want to have. and what would that be, you ask? fuck if i know. i think i'm really on a healthy and mature track right now. duh. maybe the answer will come to me in a dream. i'm going to rely on that for a little bit while i dance around la la land and pretend this isn't actually my life right now. but as soon as i'm done with that, really, i swear, i'll figure out what i want to be when i grow up.
while you're waiting for my dubious return, please don't forget about me. backtrack, read the older posts on here, follow my tweets and tumbles for little wordy appetizers. check out my friends' blogs for some more fantastic reading (links to your right) and please, for the love of god and my sanity, send some good vibes and chipper thoughts my way. i need them, and i miss you.
a xx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)