Dying Roses

I'm sitting at home. Alone. Looking at the flowers I bought for myself weeks ago that have since wilted but not lost any of their beauty...listening to Johnny Hartman and John Coltrane while smoking a cigarette (I do once or twice a year) and eating a doughnut (laughing). And I just thought to myself, "I'm that person."  The one in the horrendously boring but beautiful sequence at the beginning of many indie films. And I'm completely content with that. Smiles.
I hope that you all are doing wonderfully, and have much better stories to share than I do at present.
Cheers
ND

PS...this was the time I've segmented to attempt running. I don't think that's ever going to happen....

Making Peace

I used to hate myself. Couldn't stand the way I looked and struggled with how 'sinful' my thoughts were. I used to think I was completely past love and redemption. Which is kind of funny that those thoughts for me went hand in hand.
Very gradually, I've learned to accept who I am politically and as a woman who swears like a sailor and likes to...well fill in the blank. But it wasn't until very recently that I've become okay with the way I look.
I know it's probably entirely trivial to everyone else, but I had an aha moment today. I finally like me.
I no longer hate how large my posterior is...or how my lips take up 90% of my face...or my flat nose...or anything else for that matter (aside from how dry my skin is at times...making it necessary for me to have pedis more than the average person...who wants to curl up near an aligator?).
The way I came to this was entirely illegal - and I'm not ashamed...nor do I feel I have need to be! I have learned so much in this short period of time and have become a little less jaded about life that I feel it's entirely right for me at present.
Smiles

The Painted Lady

We, each of us, wear a mask
Concealing in some way our souls.
Some are more brilliant than others
With the blues and purples and golds...
We cannot be harmed should this face be put forth.
Sadly, however, it shows not our worth.
And, in the end, we're in further than planned in this life that is not really our own.

Now That's a Chastity Belt: Republican Candidate says Uterus Fends off Rapists!

Now That's a Chastity Belt: Republican Candidate says Uterus Fends off Rapists!

All's Well That Ends Well

It's 9 days in my new apartment and on path for my new life. The first night was a bit shaky. I live across from the beach and there were two ambulances, three fire trucks, a scuba rescue team, and countless cop cars taking turns blocking the intersection at midnight for an hour and a half. I see this all whilst walking to and from Giordano's to get my stuffed cheese pizza (which I really shouldn't have done, but I had no groceries...need to go on a post moving diet).
Of course the only logical conclusion (in my mind) to draw from this is they're looking for a body. There's no way that a person survived an hour and a half being lost in Lake Michigan! So being the dramatic person I am, I spend that time staring at the flashing lights wondering what that person's last moments were like, and what it felt like to drown....what exactly was going through their mind in that moment right before their heart stopped beating? Slightly morbid, I know, but I've always been a bit death obsessed. From wondering what it was like, I move to thinking about how haunted Lake Michigan must be. And from that to wondering what their cries sounded like...thinking they were the voices of the Sirens.
It was somewhat beautiful, but entirely creepy thus giving me issues with sleep.
I texted a friend who has since not stopped making fun of me because apparently dead bodies turn up all the time in Chicago, and I should be used to it by now. I disagree. I don't want to become callused to others' lives (well and the absence of them).
I've not found out what happened, nor do I think I want to because I'm not sure I want to think about the reality of my imagination. Either way I can finally sleep in the new space...and as soon as I've finished the Great Decorate, I will post some photographs.
I hope you all are doing wonderfully.
Cheers Lovies!

Haters will...what's that again?

I'm really tired of judgmental cunts telling me what to feel or not feel....or what to say. If I talk about sex too much for you, talk to someone else. I don't understand why your morals should rule my existence. Why your desires are the only ones that matter is strange to me.
And maybe we haven't had a real conversation in nearly a year because you're always with your live in boyfriend...and when you're not with him, you're talking to him on the phone during the time you've designated for me. That drives me batty!
If being vanilla makes you happy, then do it, but don't expect me to be the same. Don't expect that my conversation will sound like that of a middle aged nun (one that is perfectly happy with their situation that is).
We've ceased to have commonalities...I'm sorry, but it seems that's the case. And that doesn't make me a reprobate - it simply means I've moved on and so have you (just in opposite directions).
1 Aug cannot come soon enough!

A Room of One's Own

In a little over a month, I moving out of my current apt and into a studio. I'm so excited to feel grown up - living on my own and all...very Virginia Woolf minus the depression and drowning.

FML

I start feeling somewhat vulnerable with someone, and I find out I'm not well....so I think I freaked him out...and umm....am back to beginning - now with a few more bruises than before and terrified of what's next.
FML!

The Lady Is A Tramp

Blue Diamond Cab 421

As per the unusual state of life and prophecy (I suppose), I got into cab 421 today. The driver's name I cannot remember or maybe I never asked. Moments after almost getting hit by a bus while running across the street to a cab that stopped but couldn't turn around, I close the door and the driver asks - rather tells me I'm a singer. Strange I thought, but giggled the way I do when nervous and said yes. I told him a bit about the opera, and he tells me a bit about his intuition.
He says he normally can tell what someone does or what their sign is based upon first appearance. I ask him my sign and he fumbles..."Libra" he finally calls out. I giggle a bit and tell him he's wrong and that I'm a Virgo born on the cusp (of Leo and Virgo).
He proceeds then to tell me my life - some of it vague, some not. I was sort of astounded at the accuracy of my  history, and how on point things with the future sounded as well. I've never gone to a psychic...my family is quite religious blah, blah, blah...and they think it's evil...though I don't practice, I've always been scared to see one for fear that I, like King Saul, may learn of my own death (from battle I plan on fighting in tomorrow)...This experience, however, was quite different from what I expected. And for the price of a cab ride from Lincoln Park to River North, I gained some insight into what I'm going through right now and what is soon to come. Who knows if the future is accurate, but it was worth the ride.