county carnival

Him: I don’t get this song.

Me: He is singing about how sexy she is and how he loves licking and kissing her.

Him: Never say licking again. I get what it means mom, I just don’t get why it had to be a song and not just a bunch of things you whisper to someone at night in bed.

Me: Because women want to feel beautiful. Well everyone wants to feel sexy at least. So write it down and make money on a song.

Him: Even you? Even you want to feel beautiful?

Me: Even me. But I would not believe anyone that said my body is a wonderland. I would just laugh.

Him: Too sappy?

Me: Too unrealistic. My body is more like a country carnival than any kind of wonderland body.

Him: Carnival?

Me: Yeah my body seems like a great idea at night when you’re drunk, but you would never go near any of these rides in the cold light of dawn.

Him: Okay. Ew.

Me: Just saying.

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Just a Thought

It was time, I knew, to drive to my sister’s bustling, cheerful house, all tidied and stiff for the day. I would talk to people whose existence I had forgotten years before and they would ask me about my marriage (failed a decade ago, a relationship that had slowly frayed until eventually, as they always seem to, it broke) and whether I was seeing anyone (I wasn’t; I was not even sure that I could, not yet) and they would ask about my children (all grown up, they have their own lives, they wish they could be here today), work (doing fine, thank you, I would say, never knowing how to talk about what I do. If I could talk about it, I would not have to do it. I make art, sometimes I make true art, and sometimes it fills the empty places in my life. Some of them. Not all) We would talk about the departed; we would remember the dead.
—Neil Gaiman/The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

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saving lives everywhere I go

Me: I got to the gym like fifteen minutes later than usual which is apparently like missing the golden window in traffic.

Her: Too many people?

Me: Too many stupid people.

Her: How stupid could someone be at the gym?

Me: One dude asked me how to use the pool.

Her: If they want to know something like that you are obligated to drown them.

Me: I think that would’ve made me even later.

Her: Another life saved because you have a schedule.

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Just a Thought

…if you drink much from a bottle marked ‘poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.
—Lewis Carroll/Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

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Every Day

Untitled

I feel like I should make some resolutions or do something really monumental.

But it is a new day, a new week, and a new year and I still feel like the same old me. I am not ashamed of the old me, but I have struggled for the last several months with my weight and my personal worth, and the old me is the new me is the still the old me.

I can’t take the beginning of the year as anything more than just one more day where I have to make good decisions. Or at least less-harmful decisions.

This whole self care and self love process is literally every day. If 2018 is great, I’m excited. If 2018 is a dumpster fire, I’m less excited, but I am aware that I’m going to have to make my decisions every single day to continue self care and self love.

But it is nice to have this new year with all the new year smells that I can enjoy as I make my choices.

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Just a Thought

I’m a boxing glove with a horseshoe inside of it, conversationally. I speak at you. I speak through you. You’ve got the queasy feeling you might not even need to be here right now, and I’d still spit Facts About Billy Wilder into the afternoon air.
—Patton Oswalt/Silver Screen Fiend

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rolling dumpster fire of doom

I’m sitting here in my newly cleaned office. I can smell the gooshy cat food I gave my fuzzballs earlier this evening and I can hear my mother blowing her nose downstairs.

I may or may not be avoiding getting started on my nano work for today.

I’ve done the damned activity before. I’ve finished before, and I’ve been nervous about it before. But this year I feel kind of weird.

The last several months, almost a full year since I was promoted to my new job, I’ve not done a lot of writing, creative activity, or honestly anything that used to make me happy. That isn’t to say that I’m unhappy or anything – although some days I’m grumpier than others. I just have been doing a lot of work. A lot of mentally draining work. I do not have a physically taxing work, but I have a job that requires a lot of precision and thinking of all kinds of weird specifics that no one else has thought of in an attempt to make sure that people learn as well as they possibly can and are able to do their job.

I like my job.

Well, most days I like my job.

There are a lot of things changing and some things that are cementing, and just lately I’ve begun to wonder if my job is secure. Of course as the country continues to act like a rolling dumpster fire of doom I’m not sure any job is really secure, but in this specific situation, I’m just not sure about my job.

I’ve invested a lot of time and a lot of energy into my work, and just the last few months I’ve begun to wonder if continuing to amuse myself by attempting creativity and dancing around with words is really a worthwhile pursuit. All that wondering has led to me shutting up, and just the other day I realized that all the shutting up is kind of making me tense.

So, November, NaNo, might as well give it a try. Even if I just get back into the habit of talking to myself, I feel like it is worthwhile to spend some time talking to myself and investing in something that I love and that makes me happy.

The NaNo page has a tagline that says “The world needs your novel.” Pretty sure the world couldn’t give two rips about my novel nor does the world need my novel. But I think that I do, I think I need my novel and the words and the time alone with my thoughts.

Here I go.

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Just a Thought

“I wonder what they are like?” I said.
“Barbarians.” Said Doris.
“You can’t know that.” I said. “They might be perfectly civilized.”
“Civilized people.” Said Doris. “Would manage their weather better.”
—Kara Coryell/Rose and Silver, Straw and Gold: Fairy Tales Retold/The Princess and The Pea

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Wednesday

#junoweek

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Just a Thought

The sun hitched up her trousers and soldiered on up into the sky. September squinted at it and wondered if the sun here was different than the sun in Nebraska. It seemed gentler, more golden, deeper. The shadows it cast seemed more profound. But September could not be sure. When one is traveling, everything looks brighter and lovelier. That does not mean it is brighter and lovelier; it just means that sweet, kindly home suffers in comparison to tarted-up foreign places with all their jewels on.
—Catherynne M. Valente/The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making

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