Monday, August 11, 2014
I collect books and plants and rocks and journals and pictures of my son. I keep postcards and pens and I have had the same hammer for twelve years. I don't know why. I burn incense and light candles. I prefer pleasant experiences to gifts. Don't buy me diamonds because I will not wear them. I wear comfortable clothes because I only feel beautiful in gear I can do jumping jacks in. Not that I do that many jumping jacks. I am leery of exercises with strange names. I am physically and mentally ill when my room is a mess. Cleaning is my hobby. The sound of people chewing and slurping makes my skin crawl. So does the sight and sound of people brushing teeth. I have a mouth thing. I just do. I relax by writing in my journals and posting in my blogs and other social media sites. I am a Virgo if that means anything. I talk to dead people. Don't you? I had a job as a phone sex operator, which also makes me a psychologist. I grew up caring way too much about what people thought about me. I thought I was something to be fixed. I attracted broken lovers who thought they could fix me. They did not. What I have learned about myself in my almost forty-five years is that I am better at being me than anyone. I write random things about myself just because. Everyone has challenges. I choose my life. I don't like it all of the time. But if I had a choice to be me or anyone else. I choose me.