Silver Linings
kismetcuriosity – the observation-based formulation of a unified theory of lifehyperpersonally not-speaking
This was a journal entry of mine from February of this year. I’m gearing up for writing more again, but I’m also catching up to where my life is via where my life has been because there’s a trajectory there – not one that’s a conclusion, more like a mid-launch hypothetical or guesstimate as to where the hell I’m going – and it’s not something I’ve deciphered yet. Also, the hyperpersonal nature of this posting (love, fear, and lost tampons) pushes the limits of even my anonymous courage – things I can’t say outloud… but I’m getting closer. Read the rest of this entry »
friday angst
i’m tired of the idioms
tired of the prose
tired of the poetry
no one really knows
if i can speak freely
as a matter of fact
my thoughts on the matter
what’s more than that
in my personal opinion
what i mean to say
why don’t you fucking speak already
and stop wasting my day
…from a while ago, but appropriate for my angst-ridden Friday, as were a few other nuggets I found in my archives – putting some present in perspective of the past, will it lead to a future?
that’s something i hope to tackle tomorrow.
-later.
one of many happy returns
Dear god, it’s me – kismetorious. I don’t capitalize, not that I lack deference to you, but as yet I lack some definition. You’re not yet a ‘proper’ noun, I suppose. Neither am I – well, ‘I’ am, but ‘kismetorious’… not so well defined.
But that don’t mean I’m anywhar near givin’ up, so donchewfretyerprtylil’hedo’erit! Read the rest of this entry »
My BIG D(ay)
I can’t go home – not yet. I have to write, before I get home and the cacophony blots it all out again. …but I don’t know what to say.
I’m numb, I’m dumb, I’m silent & stupid – I’m alone, and I’ve reached out, flailingly, to everyone – and now my embarrassment has driven me further into my shell. Pretty typical.
So it’s a big day. (on a side note, I realize as I write this that I don’t think I’m American through & through. BIG does not equal good. Even Big Good doesn’t really equal good – usually Big Good, Big Bad, they both just leave me feeling overwhelmed & daunted.)
Exorcising My Futility
Right – I didn’t get my Friday the 13th entry – I didn’t even complete one whole sentence.
Now it’s Sunday the 15th. The stream…
I heard the knock, and I didn’t answer. I sat here like a coward. I hadn’t been making any noise, but if I had, I would have stupidly fallen silent and waited for him to walk away.
Fuck you, it’s immature. So fucking what? You’re not here to deal with it. You’re not here being confronted. You’re not here protecting me.
Why aren’t you here?
How could I have had such a perfect weekend with you and have you not be here now. I need you here. I need to come down from Cloud 9, and I need you to soften my landing. I want to be there to soften yours.
I miss you as we’re saying goodbye. I know it will be inadequate – I want to leave you with the sort of longing that I have for you so prominent you can think of nothing but me. I want my longing to be contagious, and I want someone to take away this fear that it’s not. Because an hour ago, I knew it, I believed in it – and already, watching you turn and walk back to your car, my beliefs are destabilized.
Come back.
I started this blog. It makes me nervous.
That’s so fucking trite.
Okay. Here’s the deal. I think I’ve numbed myself dumb. Not good. I think facing that, seeing it reflected in my own inability to articulate or even to comprehend so much that happens in my every day life, may help me overcome it.
And it may not. It may be an exercise in futility with some victims (e.g. those unfortunate enough to partake in my entries) ala carte.
Let’s hope not.
Comfortable in my own skin
I’m comfortable in my own skin. I don’t know any better.
7 out of 10 online dating males would like to find this supposedly elusive woman, one who is “comfortable in her own skin,” not realizing that almost all of us are. When no one’s looking.
