confession: today is friday the 13th. i used to consider anything 13 lucky. these days my luck is less superstition-based and more gratitude-fueled. (side note: any time queen plays on the radio, i consider myself lucky.)
confession: the funniest thing i heard all week was wizard admitting, “if i had breakdancing superpowers i don’t think i’d use them for forces of good.”
confession: living with cats means that either you let them do what they want or you are perpetually engaged in a battle of wills that nobody wins. i fluctuate between these options.
confession: i’m pretending to be tough this week. i’m faking out everyone but me.
confession: if you were to take me on my ideal date it would begin days in advance with you leaving flowers on my doorstep and a written invitation. (this happened once when i was in seventh grade, the first date i went on, and it made an indelible impression. it happened again in high school. i dated romantics way back when.) whatever activity involved in the actual date wouldn’t matter if the invitation was delivered as flowers on my doorstep. i’m a sucker for flowers. i bought them for myself this morning. i wanted to buy all the flowers in the shop for everyone i know but i didn’t have time to arrange them myself which is part of the flower ritual in my world. please know that in my imagination i left flowers on your doorstep today while singing and strutting to the staple singers’ “i’ll take you there.”
confession: i keep doing that thing i keep promising myself i won’t do. that’s a hallmark of addiction, i’m aware.
confession: i’m tempted to go on an 11-day bloody mary diet except that vodka tastes like shame…and i don’t like drinking vodka or shame.
confession: i like to know when i do something for the last time. i prepare for things to be the last time and half the time an opportunity comes around to do the thing again. and once again i prepare for that time to be the last. except i never think to prepare for the last time for all those things i’ll never know or expect to be the last…which sucks. life is long. maybe the next opportunity hasn’t come around again yet. i’m an optimist (sometimes, sort of, i try).
confession: i know things are bad when the sad songs that usually cheer me up don’t.
confession: i woke up this morning thinking “i’m glad i went to bed instead of dancing last night.” that’s a version of giving up in my world. next time you see me out dancing my presence on the floor means i’m attempting to upright the upside down shit in my world. in the meantime, please dance wherever you are…just a little jig for me. or wiggle your butt in your chair. butt-wiggling is smile-producing, especially if your ass gets busted.