This is the thought I’m having tonight. This is going well. Only a few slightly awkward interactions crept into the evening thus far, so I’d say…winning. For instance, it begins with me contemplating whether to go in for the hug, a kiss on the cheek, or a peck on the lips. Being the fourth date, it is appropriately confusing. So what happens? Naturally, I do some combination of the three aforementioned options, and I end up, kind of, sort of kissing him on (in?) the ear. I KNOW that shit was loud. Right. In. His. Ear. Continue reading Awkward Girl: Day 2
You know, the thing about life, is that it is confusing. It is excruciatingly complex. Why does no one tell us this when we are young? I often wonder about that. We all figure it out eventually. We grow up and think: What in the ever living fuck is happening? And yet, here we are, remaining baffled and, well…awkward. Someone please. Help me understand. Continue reading Awkward Girl: Day 1
I am tired of being sad. I just want to be fucking awesome. How in the fuck do you do that? I think it just comes to a point, when you are like fuck it. I am doing this. It is happening. If others don’t like it, they can suck it. I am sick of being PC. I legit spent over 20 years being hella proper. Okay, I am still proper. I like to swear though. I think it’s funny. So any fucking way…
I am tired of being sad. I don’t want to apologize for ever feeling sad ever. I think it’s awesome to feel. I think it is outstanding to be so moved that you move yourself into a depression. Only because there is an opportunity for a silver lining. When you’ve dug out of the muck and mire, there is hope. It is a beautiful sunshine minus the troll at the end with gold. You brush off your knees and think, “I made it. “ You went through hell to get to Heaven.
I am a lady with high anxiety. Oddly enough I am letting my fear of virtually everything drive me. So many people think that could be a bad strategy. Well if you have anxiety you totally get it. You get so nervous that you utter, “Fuck it.” That situation was your breaking point. I don’t know what it feels like to not be nervous. I wouldn’t trade my over sensitivity to stimulus for anything. It has literally taken me to Paris, Berlin and Sweden for some strange reason.
My stress self-exploits have recently brought me back to art. Creativity my haven from childhood. I am throwing my 1st exhibition and…
I have collected all my insecurities and placed them in Petri dishes. I stare at them on occasion when I want to remember who I am. Maybe I look back at them to remember who I have become? At this point in the experiment, everything sort of just blends together.