…I am a Talking Heads/David Byrne freak.
…if an 80s song comes on the radio I will sing all the lyrics because back then I memorized every word to every song.
…I do understand that love does not heal all wounds, more so now than ever.
…being wounded is part of living.
…when I am hungry I hulk out.
…the reason I had surgery when I was 19 has more to do with me being crazy than there having been anything physically wrong with me. (I’ve never told anyone the real reason, not even the doctors.)
…the kindest thing my ex ever did for me was be there during the surgery ten years later when we thought I had a bad ovary, but it just turned out to be irritating scar tissue from the first surgery.
…it’s very clear to me from my last email exchange with my ex that I make very bad choices sometimes, despite having good intentions.
…I am more insecure than I realized, but more able to cope with my insecurities than I once was.
…it amuses me to find patches of my girls’ fur on the floor.
…I fiercely enjoy my freedom but I also love to be taken care of.
…I sometimes look out the window at the neighbor’s television when it’s dark out.
…the holidays are not enjoyable for me anymore. They hurt. A lot.
…I don’t regret the decisions I’ve made in the past year and a half, but I remain conflicted about how my decisions have impacted others.
…there is nowhere else I’d rather be than tightly gripped in my man’s arms while he sleeps.
…despite its frequent stops for “no reason” I secretly still love the E train.
…I feel more secure safety-wise now that I live in New York City than I ever did in Vermont.
…when I am angry, mad, or upset I often won’t say anything with my mouth but my face reveals all.
…I wear my glasses in the shower.
…because of negative past experiences I try to stay away from hard topics at home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about them.
…it’s much more comforting to me to be surrounded by a messy home than a clean one.
…my new pair of boots, without any inserts, make my back feel fantastic.
…the nightmare that plagued me for years as a kid came true for someone else I love dearly. I have no idea what to make of that.
…there are things on my mind I will never write down and never initiate discussion of because I know one day they’ll all come up naturally.
…I am the motherfucking princess.
Shamelessly stolen from several people.
Also, yesterday while Dawg was sleeping I started preparing the kitchen so that I could make crockpot meatloaf. While putting some previously meat-filled bags into the trash I squished the garbage down with my right hand and caught my knuckle on one of the Fancy Feast wet cat food lids. The gash to my knuckle was significant and I instantly started bleeding profusely. I stuck my hand under running water while I grabbed a paper towel to put pressure on the knuckle. When I finally wrapped the knuckle and turned off the water I stood in place a minute, shifting the paper towel after my blood soaked through each spot. I started to panic that I was going to need stitches, and that the sight of my own blood or my low iron count would cause me to faint. I sprinted into the bedroom and shook Dawg until he roused. “Baby, I just sliced my finger open and I want to know what to do about it.” His eyes fluttered open. “Hmm?” I explained again and showed him the finger then asked, “should I just put a band-aid on it?” to which he responded, “yes, band-aid to keep the germies out. *SNOOOOOOOOOORE*” so I went to the bathroom and quickly rewashed the finger, put Neosporin on then put a Band-Aid on. The blood kept gushing through for a little bit so I kept my finger under running water. Finally it stopped bleeding and I went on to make my meatloaf. Later on when Dawg was awake I showed him the bloody paper towel. He had no recollection of our conversation from before. I told him “I figured if my finger looked bad enough you would have woken up, and if it didn’t you would’ve gone back to sleep. You went back to sleep so I knew it would be ok.”
Poppy Logic, folks. :smiles: