i owe this to the sarcasm of my current book

so i started out by telling myself that i should read more often. i struggle to find time in books i so badly want to submerge myself and all of my time in (oh, that ayden kasacov). but instead, the first place i resort to upon entering my room is my computer. funny how i let interweb forums consume the time i could or should spend on reading.

but, not all was a failed mission. i let my eyes do some wandering across some old blogs between the occasional glances up at the wall in front of me, covered with post-its and pictures of my nephew. (the glances up are where the thoughts to my next words come from. just in case you were wondering, the post-its have long lost their meanings and remain on my wall because, well because i think it makes me look like i have lots of significant things going on that need reminding. just think about it, when someone walks in to your room and sees all these neon colored squares tacked to your wall with any amount of numbers in the form of dates or amounts and the words “balance,” “remaining,” or “meeting” the thought, “wow, she’s got a lot going on” immediately comes to mind. and while may be true, these post-its aren’t and need to be updated).

as i was reading, i started with the most recent entry and soon realized its never good to start a book from the end, so why a blog? so, i read my first entry in here. it was well-thought and honest for what it was. “how cute,” i thought. “look at me trying to think and sound like i know what i’m really talking about.” then i realized that i did that a lot. i was trying to write as if i had a public that was more than willing to read what i had to say. a couple entries further i had this genius idea (no sarcasm intended) to write a stream of consciousness (w/ punctuation for the sake of my sanity). and to be quite honest it was the best idea i had ever had. i realized from reading something from over two years ago that my writing was so much more honest and me, even if it was scattered and random. so i’m modeling this and hopefully more entries after that one. besides, scattered and random thoughts only make things more interesting and fun, right? turquoise daffodil.

reading some of my old entries makes me feel like i’m literally looking at myself from years ago with this “glad i grew out of that” look, mixed with “you poor child, you have no idea what’s ahead.” i’m hoping that this happens again down the road. sooner than later would be great because though i may not like the direction i feel like my life is headed, i like to think one direction i’m definitely growing is up.

anyhow, to be perfectly honest, i didn’t make it past the fourth entry, other than the couple ones i read at the end. i’m sure its needless to say some things i had written were more significant than others, but i’ll say it anyway. some things i had written were more significant than others. but what caught my attention most were the words that i put to the thoughts where i was mad or angered, or rather upset with someone. because however many years later, most of those thoughts had fizzled in my memory so much, i couldn’t even remember who they were about. on top of that, i was so cautious and cryptic. good lord, so cryptic. who exactly was i protecting? what was the point? unless i know the person honestly wouldn’t appreciate being mentioned, but who in their right mind would appreciate a “virtual bashing” of emotion. if i’m bold enough to write about how someone upset me, i should at least cut out the cowardly attempt to save face. “how ridiculous,” i thought. it was then that i decided that i want to be done writing about others in that way. because even if i do remember exactly who or what it was about and when, that isn’t how i want to remember that person or the fragments of my past that do stay with me, venting aside. it only inflicts curiosity in the reader as to who you are talking about, which later inflicts drama, because then they think of the possibility that you may or may not have been talking about them and how it was oh-so-convenient that “you don’t remember.” even if it is a moment in my life that is so horrible and wretched, i would rather the day pass and gladly let it fizzle, than to have it be semi-permanently branded in to my virtual reality.

ah, but then there were the entries where i would try to get political or righteous. “oh” and “geez” are the only words that come to mind. sometimes, ok rarely, what i had to say was mediocre at best. yea, yea i know i am my own worst critic, but simply put, i’m just not as educated as i would like to be or sound rather, because that’s the real reason why we learn things, right? to hopefully impress someone else with the copious amounts of knowledge (however random) we have whizzing through our heads in hopes that they

a) pass it along to someone else in their lifetime, therefore playing an insignificant (or possibly significant) role in their life and that the transferred knowledge continues to branch out, bringing you to play a role in the lives or countless others

b) find you the slightest bit attractive because of your brains

c) all of the above

well, i think i’ve just come full circle to my first thought of having to read more. must mean its time for bed.

A work in progress

my 1% is realizing the pure and simple truth of this:


the human spirit.

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.”
-e. e. cummings



i need to be happy again. it may be slow getting there, but i think it's done getting worse.

i'll let you know when i've arrived.