When I first speak to someone, they will generally automatically assume I am a bitch. And I mean, well… But it’s mostly just my voice. Sometimes I’ll get snappy patients that tell me I need to watch my tone of voice. I tell them that I was born with this tone of voice. It’s a low, soothing tone I like to call RBV, or Resting Bitch Voice. It’s the same voice for everything. This is my bitch voice, my empathetic voice, my bedroom voice… I just like to keep people guessing…

Each Night I think I melt, absorbed and assimilated into the fibers of my sheets. Then sail away, like captain and ship, into the land of dreams. Where I run, and sing, and mostly cry. And when the morning comes, must tear my self from that warm embrace, painfully form my body anew, and face the Day..

I have always been a klutz. Mutant toe is probably the culprit. But by god, if there is nothing on that floor, I am sure as hell gonna trip over it! Chronic dizziness is now just the excuse. And it is the devil. I can no longer throw my head back and yell, “Whyyyyyyy?!” to the heavens, or do my signature fist punch/leg kick move when I am angry, without a wave of dizziness threatening to topple me over.

It is a crisis.

Who am I if I can’t be dramatic? Is it the next step in drama evolution if I yell, “Whyyyyyyy?!” and then fall to the floor? Or is this life, telling me to hang up my drama queen crown?…

Lost in all the wonderous moments of the day, blown like dust along the dry desert road, and gone from here in ways only distant clouds could know…

I’m no vampire, you can still catch me in the sun if you’re lucky, but I am glorious glowing renewed. Nary a care, I have my purpose for each day I rise. I have found my fire, and you are all the moths..

Well, it finally happened. My ancient fitbit finally passed…
Farewell perfect figure, for why should I ever leave this chair. Farewell sunlight and birdsong, for why will I ever need go outside. Farewell wind in my hair, from power walking to keep up with others…
It’s been nice using you feet and legs, but without a fitbit, what purpose is there in walking anymore??
Rip Fitbit, may you finally find peace and motionlessness..

Omgawd… it really MUST be the scariest night of the year, it’s 8pm and I’m in bed hiding… from all the children… candy crazed children, running wild in the night… *shivers*

…jk. No child would be brazen enough to mount my darkened steps. The last time a child knocked on my door, I answered it with a knife in my hand.
…actually, I heard the monsters coming and whipped the door open right before they knocked. With a knife in my hand. They actually ran screaming. 😁

Hashtag: Anyone Need a Babysitter?

Gawd. When you finish the last page of a wonderous book, and it just lingers on your tongue like the last bite of ambrosia. And you sit, holding time tightly like you can stop it from moving foward. Hold this moment, this feeling, for even were you to read and reread and reread, no other time will ever be your first again. No other moment will ever be this very moment, this new and haunting taste left in your mouth. This is what reading is. This is what magic is…

…when the night begins to win over the day. when the air begins to grasp at your skin. when the trees start to turn, growing gold, then crimson, as if infected. then drop their leaves as if seeking to blanket the Earth, keep her warm, keep her safe. safe from the ghosts that slowly drift in the dew light, from the shadows that yawn and stretch in the twilight…

My wisdom hairs normally come out this sort of interesting blonde colour. But this morning I looked in the mirror and there was one so silver I nearly had to shield my eyes from the glare. And honestly, the whole idea still confounds me. I looked in the same mirror yesterday, and that hair wasn’t there. Did the colour just fall off in my sleep. Did grey hair gremlins attack me in the middle of the night? Are the wisdom hairs actually the super hairs of the head, with the power to grow overnight?
You know the first X-men movie? Where Rogue is strapped to the Anti-Mutant machine, and her body undergoes so much stress you see the grey just sweep down a section of her hair like a waterfall? Sometimes that’s how I imagine it. Only, minus the Anti-Mutant machine…
I generally allow my wisdom hairs to hang out. But this one I plucked. …for the safety of others, you know? Don’t want people getting into car accidents from the extreme shine in their eyes…

Hashtag: Damn You Gorgeous Shiney Hair…

On to better things.
I found a prereleased copy of one of my favorite authors upcoming books. Official release date, sometime in the next few months. I feel a little bit secret, a little bit special, the word “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across each page of text.
I am both excited, and dubious. This is the start of a new series based off one of my absolute favorite series. But she also butchered the ending of said series, and I quite promptly discarded the last book and forever pretend it never happened. More disappointedly, her next book, a stand alone, was… tragic. I enjoyed it only slightly more than I enjoyed the last book I just read.
So I feel this book is walking a thin line. But I have so much hope. The series it follows was written with so much magic and dreaminess. I legitimately fell head over heels for one of the characters. I wanted to live in that world. I wanted to smell the trees. I let out a sigh each time I had to pull myself out of the world and put the books down.
So this journey is a gamble.
But what fun would an adventure be, if you knew exactly what you were getting into?

Signs you’re getting Older:

When its decided that any outing after 6pm will be done in slippers, and while out you look down to realize you have a tissue hanging out of your pocket, and then after your delicious, orgasmic, spicy soup broth, you find yourself considering buying some Tums…
Hashtag: One Foot in the Grave!