walking the walk, unlocking locks

being lazy and loving food don't go well together, as my increase in dress size has shown me recently. so, i've been taking long walks around my neighborhood whether i want to or not, and believe me i'm leaning more towards not.

it's an ordeal though.
i have to load my mp3 player with songs that i won't get bored of, and then i actually have to leave my computer and haul my fat ass outside. this step alone could take almost an hour. song selection is important you guys!

then, i have to make it down my driveway. doesn't seem like a big deal right? well, considering the fact that i live in the country where leash laws don't apply and everyone and their mom has a farm dog or seven, it's actually the most nerve wracking element of the walks. i KNOW the dogs aren't going to bite me. logic tells me most of them are old and would only advance on me if i were wielding a machete threatening to kill their owners...but i still break out in a cold sweat everytime one of them follows me down the path. i just know they're going to go all Cujo on my ass and rip me to bits.
of course, they don't.

so once i'm down the drive i have two options: keep going or bone out. as scary as those dogs are the thought of exercising really puts me in a mood. i want to be healthy and a little bit smaller but DAMN it's hot out, too many bugs, i'm wearing the wrong shoes, what if i get kidnapped while i'm out there etc etc.
oh yes, i have the best excuses for not going on my walks.

but for some reason i'm able to muster up enough whatever it is and actually do some walking. as i plod along the dirt and gravel paths that make up this neighborhood, swatting kamikaze flies and mosquitos away from my mouth so i don't end up eating them, i pray.
not for peace on earth, good will towards man, sadly.
no, i pray for autopilot.

that mental space i get into after a certain point where i can't hear anything but my music and footsteps, can't tell that i'm sweating, don't notice that my feet are killing me, can't see anything but the path in front of me and the goal i set in my head.

sometimes i wonder if i should turn off the autopilot, if i should suffer through the pain and discomfort like the good little masochist that i am. but then...i realize how good i feel when i'm done. how...new i feel. like i can achieve something, like i DID achieve something. i may have cheated a bit but placing myself in a nearly mechanical state of mind, but i got it done. i figured out the trick.

figuring out just what it takes to get me there, get me anywhere, is amazing. i feel alot like i discovered myself, like i found they key and unlocked the secret of my own mind.
or maybe it's just the adrenaline talking.

the problem with my legacy

see, the problem i have is that you have to die in order to leave behind a legacy.
the legacy, i'm fine with. people saying or writing nice things about my great accomplishments
is right up my alley. it's the dying that i'm not quite cool with just yet.

sure, everyone has to do it i guess.
i mean, die. everyone has to. i know a few people who have.
some knew it in advance. only one was pissed. i'm gonna be like that guy.


his problem was, i think, that he hadn't done anything yet. nothing particularly notable.
he was married, had two grown sons and had retired not long before learning of his impending
doom.
many people will argue that he had done exactly what he was put on earth to do...marry,
have children, raise said children into adulthood and then, apparently, croak over and die.
and right after his retirement! what a gyp right?
i didn't know him very well so i didn't know his entire life plan but when he died i couldn't
help but wonder if he had done ANY of the things he set out to do. what were the things he didn't
do? did he have a list?


it reminds of me that question that they always have in those stupid myspace surveys, or those
little games you play at cocktail parties that are meant to be fun but in fact are actually
quite morbid. you know those ones. the if you had to lose a limb which would you pick?
if you were on a sinking ship and could only save one of your children which would you let
drown? if you were going to die in a week what would you do/where would you go/who would you bang?
games.
holy mother i hate those.
i never know what to say. i always want to say "i know what i wouldn't do...i wouldn't waste my last
week of life going to stupid cocktail parties that's for damn sure" but i never do because i'm not
that brave.

*sidebar
did you know, that one time i was at a party and we played this game, and one of the women said that
she would spend her last week of life volunteering at an animal shelter. she shouted the question out
to her friend who was in the kitchen making a drink, and the friend shouted back "screw that shit, i'd
spend all week vag deep in a box of vibrators!"
true story.


and then i think of the ones who didn't really have the luxury of knowing in advance that they were
about to shuffle off their mortal coil. luxury...can you even call it that?
the ones that didn't expect it, well...i can't speculate. despite what i may have lead you to
believe in the past i'm not psychic. but i can tell you, had they known exactly where when
and how they would have had some beef with it. i can't imagine anyone being totally comfortable
with the fact that they were going to die. there is no reference point. all the people you know
who have died are still dead. i mean, it's not like a tattoo or something. it's not like you can ask
them if it hurt or not.


i guess what i'm trying to say is...
i have no idea what i'm trying to say.
all i know is that i think about death too often and it freaks me out everytime.

when it comes down to it, i just want to take off my bra

i'm having those weird body issue problems again. it seems the closer i am to leaving the more i get pushed over the edge emotionally. i'm so stressed out about every little thing, i don't want this trip to be a mistake. i want to go there and STAY there, not have to run home with my tail between my legs.

but when it comes down to it, all i really want to do right now is just take off my bra.

i was watching ANTM and i'm pretty sure none of the models were wearing bras, but being that they were all little and had tiny boobs, none of them really required a bra and that pisses me off.
i think of how much i'd love to just strut around in a tank top, no bra, no nothing. but my boobs are too big, too saggy too...awful. i would never want to inflict them on the world.

but it's all i can think about.
i just want to take off my bra, take off my shirt, pants, underwear and just run free and naked thorugh the world and not give a shit. but i always give a shit. too much of one, and that's why i'm wearing a push up bra. on a sunday. sitting at home. by myself.

maybe i just need someone to take my bra off for me?

insomniatic smatterings part one

you said you wanted to know what went on in my head...
i didn't mean to laugh so loud, it's just that i know you're too sane to actually want that information.
it's not one of those "if i told you i'd have to kill you" sort of things, more like "if i told you, you'd want to kill yourself".
please, not on my sofa...i just had it steamed.
oh goodness no...not against my wall. that's a faux finish! took me at least five minutes to finish which is longer than my attention span.

what were we talking about?
oh right...my mind.
well honestly i think my seeds are rotten.
yes, seeds. the seeds of my mind.
plant the seeds and watch them grow.

seeds? or was it wings.
plant the seeds.
grow the wings.
seeds.
wings.
wing seeds.
plant the seeds of thought and watch your dreams grow wings and fly.

but that's not what this is about kid.
this is about how i can't sleep.

this is about how the news isn't news and probably isn't even true. walter kronkite my ass...isn't he dead?
paris hilton is newsworthy i suppose, just for the simple fact that i've never seen a bigger skank in my life. that's guiness book material my friend!

did you know she has big feet?
she should use that talent.
bigfootparisstompseggs.com
no that's not already a registered domain, you pervert!

look, i'm not usually belligerent but you have to understand. this is my last chance at stardom kid. this blog...well...it's all i got.
i gave up the stage because i didn't belong on it.
hung up my paintbrush because i saw an elephant on pbs that could paint a better portrait than i could.
i wasn't made for the talkies...my voice is too husky. like a man, but with boobies and other various girl parts.

oh woe is me, it's not easy being insane.
you'll learn.
i'll teach you.

now go eat some wing seeds and get out of my face.

my fingers wrote this and my mind just went along for the ride...

Hemingway

i feel like every little bit of me
is falling out of linty pockets
pennies from hell, brimstone rockets
screaming out loud
reddish coppery brown
in your hot little hands

all i wanted was a clean well lighted place
but just like Papa i shot off my face
to spite my mouth
to spite myself
and maybe you too...you sonofabitch.