Back in the saddle?
Eh, close enough.I may have some saddle sores, but I'm here.
****SKIP TO THE GOOD STUF******
Little one finished recovering yesterday,
and we had a great time together.
That was the upside of it all: lots of quality one-on-one time.
Mr. husband gets home today.
I can't even express how relieved and happy I am about this.
We are going to see "Chicago" tonight, which should be simply marvelous.
It'll just be great to be together, really.
I feel like I'm running a marathon that keeps extending its finish line.
I see the end, but then suddenly as I approach it, it recedes.
Like a mirage, I suppose.
I need to organize myself better.
I found this picture of my tattoo, from a few months after I got it.
I love how skinny I was.
I had straightened my hair the day of the picture.
And it's so blonde!
I'll have to scan in the picture so y'all can see.
The point is, I propped it up next to my computer and I keep seeing it.
I guess it's nice to compare yourself to yourself, rather than to some freak-of-nature super model that you could never be.
*****GOOD STUFF******
I have this great song in my head.
It's the hidden track from a matchbox 20 album.
I love it.
And it's making me think of stories to spin.
I can picture a boy, a boy who thinks he doesn't need anybody
and doesn't want anybody to need him.
A boy who claims he doesn't believe in love.
He is handsome, and so smart.
This boy, if he were real, would have a smile to light up a night sky--
a sky without city lights to drown the brilliance of the stars.
And deep, dark eyes.
It seems like this kind of boy wouldn't know what he wanted from life--
he would know better what he didn't want.
I do wonder, though, if a boy like this would ever be able to let go.
Would he be able to stop running long enough to see some of the universal truths of life--the happy kind?
Ok, so now I'm getting a crush on my imaginary friend!
I'm picturing a very sexy boy, with just the right amount of chest hair,
and a long lean body.
I'm picturing soft hands and rough movements.
I'm wondering how it would feel to nuzzle his neck, and have him nuzzle my breasts.
I'm imagining all the ways in which I would tease him toward a grand finale...
and the taste of that particular product.
Heh.
Ok, well, so much for keeping sex out of this blog.
I mean...I never officially planned on toning back, it just hasn't been on my mind much lately.
Maybe it's the autumn, maybe it's the moon--
but everything feels foreign lately.
The wind whispers with a thick accent,
the sky is upside down,
and my entire center of gravity is off.
I want way more than my share out of life,
and it's a heavy load to carry.
It settles over me like a lead blanket...
as I wait for an x-ray of my head to be taken;
but don't look at the results...you'll be haunted and feel hunted.
yes, I'm a hunter.
I feel like a great jungle cat, or a sharp-eyed wolf--
but I don't know what I'm hunting.
My prey is elusive and amorphous.
I want to fling my fingers from their tight grasp on this life
and
let the tornado sweep me away to my own Oz.
Instead of munchkins I would have pool boys.
Instead of the tin man, the man of steel.
Instead of the scarecrow, a stoner.
Instead of the lion, a rockstar.
The witch would be some skanky blonde.
heh.
I would vanquish her with a bucket of water--
girls like that can't live without their props: makeup, hair gunk, etc.
And the great and powerful Oz?
That would just be me, wearing those glasses with the fake nose and moustache.
And I would laugh at how hard the other me had tried to get there, to only find I had the power to
go
home
all along.
I am tired.
Lack of sleep, lack of...
I hope you all have fantastic weekends, and do at least one thing that makes you very happy, and one thing that makes someone else very happy. |
posted by Bored Housewife at
9:30 AM
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