i laugh… loudly. it just is.

keep your eyes open all the time and I think you’ll find, there’s no place to hide and the world is alive

there’s something fascinating, and endlessly entertaining about getting to know yourself. and then accepting yourself for everything you are.

and i encourage every single person i’ve ever met to do it. understand who you are. why you are. what you are. get rid of what was given to by others. and fill it in with who you want to be.

this entire process will take approximately… your lifetime. but in reality, the fun starts a few years in.

it’s crazy what knowing yourself, and liking all those teeny things that make up who you are will do for your ability to connect with people.

lately, i feel connected. in a way that doesn’t overwhelm me, or scare me. or lead me on. it simply feels, well, simple. we’re all human. we’re all different. we all have intricate, messy, complicated glorious stories of what got us here. right here. and those stories are no one else’s but ours. how exciting is THAT?! yea, i know, you’re thinking the SF heatwave has gone to my head, but no. it hasn’t.

recently, i read two articles (whoa, i’m just realizing that they were both from paste magazine) that really affected me. one was about a well known celebrity (of whom i’ve had a crush on since i was 11) and another a musician. both men. both amazingly, unbashedfully, and wholeheartedly affected by the human condition. by words. by connection. by people. by their stories.

so if you know me, you’ll know that i have a propensity to crush, hard, on certain artist types. some of whom happen to be well known (celebrity). but the fact that i’m so affected by these strangers spirals me into weird and crazy ‘i don’t know you, this is unhealthy’ land. so i have to seriously avoid reading about, or listening to these boys.

and the only way i can explain my craziness to others, explain my crush, my longing for connection with these boys- they get it. they get what it’s like to connect.

maybe it’s the rediscovery of my feelings, and allowing my self to love them, or something, but i just get overwhelmingly excited and hopeful when i see evidence that someone else gets it. like i do. that we’re all in this together.

and where does this leave me right now? basically, that i don’t need to explain it any more.

that i am in love with connection. that i love nothing more than to get to know someone. to connect with someone. through conversation. through music. through sharing. through being. through asking.

other things about me that just are. and i’m ok with them, because they make up who i am:
when i hear a song i love, i play it on repeat. for as long as necessary.
apples and cheese is, in fact, a perfectly acceptable dinner
i am really much worse than i thought at doing dishes, i hate them
and laundry.
when i’m channeling patience, tact and appropriateness in conversation i take short quick breaths.
i maybe like cuddling more than i thought.
i’m obsessed with words.
i’m very deliberate with them.
i have faith in the process. even if i’m not sure what process it is.
i laugh loudly.
my hair will always be… everywhere.
my coffee table cluttered.
i need to talk through things to figure them out.
i love listening to friends, and friends that listen to me.
i will never, ever, be able to quit ice cream.
and i like boys. and it can be that simple.

so for a while, i’ll focus on connecting with people that get it. maybe one of them will be romantic. maybe not. maybe it won’t matter.

there’s a song at the heart of it all and we all try hard
just to write it down but you can’t write it down

ezra furman and the harpoons. the world is alive.

words. can’t get enough of people that know how to use them.

soooo. this nablopomo is beginning to wear on me ever so slightly. mostly because i don’t have enough intelligent stuff to say every night, cause i’m tired. i said it all in the day. at my job that pays me the big bucks to theorize, plan, create process, organize and manage. so at night, i’m just a little sleepy.

and i had my left over like date night butternut squash linguine from last night for dinner. carb and butter overload.

basically, all i need to say about what i am thinking is this: i need to date, love, marry a writer.

and if jason schwartzman wasn’t already my perfect mate, he is now. because anyone that questions my need to be with a writer has not seen bored to death on hbo.

and now, i must cancel my cable because the season is over. and i really can no longer justify paying all that money to watch friends, seinfield, the office, and everybody loves raymond reruns on tbs every night.

meanwhile, you can take writer to include song writer. cause, well, duh.

i’m here, mr. writer…right here, waiting. i laugh loudly, but you’ll get used to it, promise. come find me!