It all started when I lost my Pants

poetry, musing, short stories and generally the inner workings of the brain of a 30-something year old woman who is a little nutty, a little sane, a little loud and just a little shy.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006


Why do I insist on analyzing everything? What is it about my makeup that means I have to pull everything apart and figure out the inner workings? Why am I so full of questions that may never have an answer? Why is it that I can not seem to just accept things and be glad? Why do I insist on more? Why is it that I can be so helpful with others and so out of touch when it comes to my own agenda? How can it be that I am seen as such a solid person when really, inside, I am a wreck? How is it that I can see all the good points in me, but at the same time, fear that no-one else does? What is it about myself that negates positive outlook? Why is it that I haven't gone out to play in weeks? What is it about being in a relationship that turns off the fun button? Am I really thrilled about where I am? What if I am caught up in feeling and not thinking logically? What if I am thinking logically and not listening to feeling? Can a person attain true bliss? Is keeping busy a sign of avoidance or is it good social structure? Am I reliving the patterns of my past? Is my future determined by the sins of yesterday? Is it possible to rise above all that has gone on? If so, who is to say what is the true path of enlightenment? Does a degree mean that you have the answers to the meaning of life? Did Alder feel good about himself? Is contentment a learned behavior or is it a state of being? Does it really matter what other people think? Do I base decisions on the views of others? Do I base my decisions on a narcissistic sense of self? Do I want status? Do I need to be seen as superior? If so, where did that come from? Am I in need of being in control? Do I have any control? Is my weight just a defense mechanism against intimacy as thrown upon me in the past? Do I need to be isolated to a degree? Will there ever be an end to all the damned questions? Will wonders never cease?

Questions. Why are there always so many of them? Perhaps it is my studies, maybe I am just kinda nutty that way. In any case, there are always questions.

Friday, January 13, 2006


It is funny how sometimes the thing you need is right in front of you but is clouded by the things you think you want. Reality is far more interesting than fantasy most of the time. Why is it that it seems so much better than the real thing? No fear I imagine. There is no fear in maintaining a fantasy, a "what if", there is no failure when you control all aspects of the scenario, though there is no realism either, no experience. That is the best part though. The experience, the process. Though there are no hard fast rules that you can't still dream a little dream now and then.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

when is an apple an orange?

One week away from my birthday. I am getting old. 34. I can remember being a teenager and thinking: "Oh my god, so-and-so is 35, that is sooo old". Now that is almost me. Funny thing, I don't feel anywhere near old. I am still waiting for the day when I wake up and become an adult. I see glimmers, but I think deep down I am still 17 at heart. Part of me wants to celebrate like mad, the other part of me just wants to curl up and nurture myself.

On a lighter note: I got a part in the play I auditioned for. Not just a part, but the part I wanted! How cool is that? And the person I play opposite? Let's just say it is amazing how life imitates art sometimes. I have always maintained that my life is a soap opera. It can be true for this segment, and yet somehow, interesting and fun to look forward to.

News always travels late when you want to hear what it is. Feelings are never a good solitary reason for saying or doing things. Peoples hearts are delicate. The search is always for the joy. If so, why is there not more smiles than there are?

Pensive pre-birthday musings.

Things will be, and are, exactly as they are supposed to be.

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