Saturday, October 28, 2006

She Cries Folks

One of my favorite authors is SARK. She is this wild woman who writes about all of this taboo shit like using a vibrator, going out alone, and painting the walls in your home whatever color you really want them to be. SARK validates some of the things I do as not being the actions of a crazy person but rather the delusions of a self confidant woman celebrating her individuality.

I love building forts. When I was a kid I used to build my forts out of old sheets and I would sit in my fort for hours eating Oreos and string cheese and writing in my journal.

So I am 26 now. Sh*t. And I still have a fort. Really, it is in the spare bedroom in my house, and I have all kinds of glorious treasures in there…my favorite shoes, magazines, books, feathers, nail polish, candles, oil pastels and of course, my journal. I even have a sign that says NO BOYS ALLOWED (UNLESS THEY ARE NAKED).

I cry in my fort. I don't cry a lot. When I do cry, and everyone should, I like to be alone and somewhere safe. What better place to cry than a fort of scrumptious blankets and sheets and candles?

It is October 28th 2006 and I have not cried for weeks…but I get in my little big fort and I start a conversation with my tiny ego that likes to act like it is the bomb. I want to be sad for everyone I have hurt and for everyone who is lost….and I cry.

I feel so much better now. How do you end a blog like this? GO CARDS!!!!

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

26 Years of :Battle Wounds"

So I'm 26 years old…Past my quarter-life. Some people are surprised I made it, and at some point I really didn't think I'd make it to 26 years old.

Age 8- If you sit on a hot exhaust pipe, you will be tattooed with a permanent ring. I was scared of VW Bugs for years because of this incident.

Age 10- If you are not an Olympic diver and you are 10, do not attempt a double backward flip off the diving board.

Age 12- I'm still looking for the gang of wasps that built a nest under my bicycle seat. This was a nasty, nasty crash.

Age 16- When trying to jump hurdles…make sure you know what the hell you are doing…because if they are turned backwards they don't fall over on impact, they just kind of slice your legs all to hell.

Age 18- The director encourages the performers to stay away from the edge of the stage for a reason…falling into the orchestra pit is embarrassing as well as painful.

Age 21- If you haven't studied for a final be sure to wreck your bicycle on the way to class and show up for the test with torn jeans and bleeding all over the place, if possible faint too.

Age 22- This marked the beginning of my lets-try not-to cut-your-fingers-on-bottles, beer caps, or broken glass era. Wounded bartenders really don't make the best cocktails. Sorry sir, let me get you another vodka tonic, minus the blood, and this one is on the house.

Age 23- Music festivals are great fun, try to stay out of the trees, at some point go to bed, and if someone offers you a ride on a golf cart…decline immediately. And when you go to the hospital with a fat lip and concussion, don't have your dad take you.

Age 24- People do not bring hard liquor on float trips for a reason.

Age 25- As I have said before, it is imperative not to throw water on a grease fire. I couldn't walk for a week or so because my feet were burned so badly.