Dearest, here it is. The time has come for you to know how serious I can be. I'm like the most exquisite flower in the garden, waiting to be plucked and picked. Overlooked though because it stresses the gardener to remove such a priceless one of a kind wonder. This is how I regard myself from this day forward. Due to the fact most, or some have made me feel, 30 should be my funeral. Not so. This is a wonderful day. This is the first day of fabulous if you really want me to shag you rotten to celebrate this beautiful thing. Let's get it on!!!
30 is going to be successful. 30 is going to be even more full of life. 30 will produce more maturity.
Right?
I am on this path of not comparing myself to others. Which is an attainable goal. I also am strangling the little voice that berates me for being merely human. I am also only thinking of myself. And no one else. Sounds selfish right? I think this is the most healthy and romantic choice for me. By character, I am a selfish lover. With that said, think about how impossible it is to please me. My standards have become quite a bit harsh.Can I point out, I still don't have to take meds to make my life any more manageable? I am not jabbing at anyone and certainly not going TOM CRUISE on that ass, since by law Angie has the right to "humanely" put me down. I only ask to be blindfolded when you shoot the gun. Let me watch you load it though.
Lettin' that freak flag fly, bitches.
Here is my mission statement, so pay attention. I ain't gotta prove shit to you. Or to you. Or to anyone else who wants to show their ass on me. Or to anyone else who has 2 fuckin' cents to bring to the table. If I think I'm moving forward, I must be.
On to fun stuff. Champ woke me up @ 7. Having to poop near the front door, and having his tummy make "sad sounds." Constantly burping, and smelling like garbage, he continues to vomit clear liquid. On me. That's cool. I wipe his mouth and make sure he wants to drink. He does. But he also wants to dominate my lap and lay on my chest. Someone asked if I took his temperature, I declined to do so. Isn't cleaning ears and doctoring his face enough? Then I discover Tiger has a mortal wound above his little eye. I mean, hand to hand combat? Why not? Let me elaborate, Tiger is the type of dog who has the personality of Freddie Mercury, sans moustache. This little man who patrols the yard, house, and mainly the bathroom is the alpha dog. In control, master and commander. He looked at me and said (with his eyes) IT DON'T HURT! I don't need the new age voodoo you have on Champ. Me reconstruct like new. Like fuckin' Robocop. Lesson learned.
I don't have expectations. It's not like you want to pick me up down the street as I sneak out of the house, eh? Although that would be nice. I would wear that tacky lingerie everybody keeps having dreams of me in. Where's that reality? I don't have expectations, it's just that no one can live up to them. I think that's pretty realistic. Back to being the most selfish person on the planet, I'm just kinda sassy. Do I sound unreasonable? I think I can fill said shoes. It's just about screamingly funny. I love to get all painted up and search for logical attention. What if the attention doesn't come honestly? My ability to attract said attention is frighteningly easy.
Attitude is everything. Especially when I pretend how I don't give a shit about you or your feelings. I retain memories, mostly unpleasant ones. I replay them in my head over and over. It's a little melodramatic and I really thought it was an attribute you like about me. Ridiculous, huh?
It may be my human condition. It may be something that makes me uniquely me.
I have real fears. Tonight, I layed on the love seat and told Angie I was really afraid I would one day be very sick, and have to battle it alone. Surrounded by dogs. Ain't nothin' wrong with a faithful dog though. These are the empty thoughts I have. This is what I do in the meantime. I worry for no reason. I pine for the unknown. I understand that procreation is beautiful, but not particularly the only reason for me to live a life. This is not something I have had to talk myself into. It's just something I know. Empty? No. Lonely? Hardly. Thirsty? Yep.
Is it horrible I want to hold out for butterflies? Is it awful, I may have to have that bottomed out feeling when you drive too fast on Piedmont Road going toward Jeff City? Is it a tragedy to demand more?
I begin every day by drinking my coffee sitting up in bed, holding a huge white dog. (even though there is a tiny, sweet dog who stays under the covers that would be a lighter load.) Sigh. I suppose that will be my lot in life...........The tiny things are there, but I need to take on the bigger things, due to the amount of strength I am made of.
I'm tired if you can't tell.
But when I say I want the moon, I expect the moon.
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