Morning coffee and complaints.

I’m not a book to be read and devoured. Page turner. Chaptered. Preface. Prologue.

If I was I’d be paper back. You can see the use easily. Wear and tear.

Wouldn’t that be easier for you? That way what you interpret me to be I would then be. Making me amount to some desirous interlude. Something you escape from the reality into. I’m fictional.

If a book could somehow glare at the reader that would be happening momentarily.

Dear reader, fuck you and your insurmountable stereotypes. It is fun to imagine the world as simple as you make it. Hearts and flowers. Successes and triumphs.

Your gross naivety drives me to insanity. Sickness. Food poisoning.

What you produce in your thought bubbles is romantic and ridiculous. Temporary and incorrect. You misinterpret the information set in front of you.

It would be so nice to live in your world. A world where what you want things to mean, they mean. Truly, “the world is what you make of it.” Hearts and flowers.

Rose-colored glasses my ass; you live in a comatose state. I want to smoke what you’re smoking, oh reader. Please. For it doesn’t matter what the words say. Pages blank, you read what you want.

Because apparently, you’re imagination is greater.

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My own Fifty Shades

My sexuality is feeling boundless as well as my insecurity.

It is the way of the world those being tethered to one another. Keeping us all locked in a prison of irony and sanctity.

There are so many things I am aching for, from life, and I’m feeling trapped from them. Admittedly, by my own doing.

For the first time in so long I’m wanting to feel the freshness of a new relationship, the clarity of its walls being unknown. Keeping definitions to a minimum. I want and am excited to learn someone new.

 

I am curious and crazed. My book shelf as of late not helping (Fifty shades of Fucked Up).

Illegally Distractible

I’m addicted to something I cannot even feel.

Fifty Shades of Grey

It’s having its effects. Affects. I’m affectedly effected.

I’m transcending to a place where putting the book down is a punishment. Truly, at the base of the eroticism is a romantic wanderlust. I’m there. Seeing the surface and the unwavering under layers.

Soon it will be book 2.

To say I’m currently single would be a lie. To say my expectations have swelled is an understatement.

Midnight and Thought Provoked.

So, obviously on a sugar rush. Here I am. Insomniac. Thinking and deliberating.

I can miss what I used to see. Miss all those memories. But really I can’t tell you truly, if I do miss you and me.

Rhyming sucks.

***

Kind of spewing at the moment.

I’m feeling like I’m ready for time to move more swiftly. Can we say…quick montage to the future? That’d be great. First, of course, the epic background music (remix) has to be chosen. Not sure yet. Have a few ideas.

Eye of the Tiger

The final countdown

I’m a Barbie Girl – just to mix it up.

In no way does the music have to be motivational.

***

I’m not sure where I’m at. Kind of feeling like I’m floating through life. Grasping at straws.

The straws being forcible diet and exercise. Can’t tell if I’m really enjoying the participation or just the routine. Or just any of it.

For now I’m going to continue.

Work is losing it’s luster. Stress. Repetition. Disappointment. It’s so hard to really depend on any of my co-workers there. Smooth sailing ship is like a wet dream.

***

Good night. I think I’ll start a new book tomorrow. Something more…entrapping.

Pages

I have to start reading again. Opening the pages. Displacing myself. Removed. Transported.

I like the feeling of it.

Downside is not actually being in those places, those lives. I forget sometimes. Turn the page. Close the book. From there the dreams carry me through. It’s the following days that bring the wake up.

Reading is almost sad really. How am I not those people? How are those things not able to happen to me?

Who knows. That’s why we read.

I Read for Pleasure

Book reading Goal: 20 books read by 2013

So far I’ve read:

  1. The Hunger Games
  2. Catching Fire
  3. Mocking Jay

Currently reading:

  1. Wicked

Reading has been amazing. Quite literally is the best way to escape. At any moment I could be waging war, being born into a family of mystical creatures or being followed by zombies. Who couldn’t love that?

“Every man who knows how to read has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant and interesting.”Aldous Huxley

To add to the abilities a book has to thrust me into realms I could only imagine, it has incredible healing power. Going through a Divorce helped to dilute the person that I am. Reading seems to magnify things about myself that I wasn’t seeing; strength, creativity, compassion. Bluntly: my awesomeness.

Something else about the written word is it gives me desire to share; Blogging, Twitter, Pinterest, photography, everyday communication…the list goes on. Sharing is caring about myself. Really if you don’t have anything you wish to share with anyone else than who are you? And why should we care that you even exist?

Books: an addiction that I’m welcoming with open arms.

2012 Goal: No doubt I will surpass it.