What To Do With Your Feelings

I'm not sure if I should go get a bottle of really nice champagne with my unemployment money or to go get my nails done.

Here's the thing, people. I want to write it somewhere for everyone to see so that at some point it can be so scandalous that I knew and it could actually be documented that I knew and he never actually told me himself.

I know who my husband is. I know he owns three companies. He is, without a doubt, exceedingly above and beyond anything I could think or imagine.

Man, that's what gets me. Because I have such an overactive imagination. I am a dreamer of dreams. So when I was growing up and reading that it was like...yeah right. Do you realize who you are talking to here? I see shit. I mean I see see shit, preacher dude. I see.

Growing up was frustrating. Trying to communicate to people around me what I knew to be true about who I was and what I was meant for. It was like speaking to a wall most of the time. Hello, tuning in Earth or Tokyo or at least just the person in front of me. Little did I know. It really is all being recorded.

I had an ER visit recently whereby I asked my angelic medic if this was all being recorded because I knew how outlandish what was happening really was and he knew how outlandish it really was too. He assured me that yes it was being recorded. But I digress...

I maybe wouldn't encourage you to go the route I did if you are a kid reading this and growing up or an adult reading this and regressing. You don't need to kick and scream, yell and push. You don't need to beat doors in or threaten to hurt yourself all the time if people don't notice you. If you're a fire sign, it's understandable. You totally want to do that. We feel we need to to be noticed and heard. But I assure you, journaling will serve the same purpose. And the reading of your journal out loud will thereby cement it. You simply have to want to be known. No need to make demonstration thereof. Take the simpler route. My life truly was a cyclone.

Doing What You Like

I like to write. It calms me. You see: I have anxiety. I have the anxiety that no one talks about. It's the eat you alive because you are literally going to crawl outside your skin type of anxiety.

I'm a know-it-all. Yes, we actually exist. We do. Some of us will talk about it and others won't. It's all about the purpose and the plan. So maybe tomorrow I will be the type who no longer talks about it and just accepts it. No longer need for validation because that which IS has COME and there is no fear in love.

Maybe my writings are a bit too advanced presently. But, I can no longer write like I used to. I used to try so hard to help it make sense. And it doesn't make any sense and that's why I have purposefully resigned to write like this. From now on. Because if I have to spell it out and scream it out loud, it isn't worth it anyway. Life is best in code, in the detail, in the muck and the mire of it as you wait to find out if you are really you.

You can't betray yourself, you know that? You can't.

It all works for the good.

For those who love him

Who are called

According to His Purpose.

I'm not rewriting anything here or trying to make something new out of something old. I am just repeating, accentuating and if anything, using and borrowing. Because somethings can't be said any clearer than how they are already said.

I could tell you how I figured it all out or how it literally all cleared and one day just all made sense. The countless whys. The years and years of pain and suffering. No, I don't know your suffering. But I had my own. Today it is as real to me as it was then. Tomorrow, I pray it is a distant memory. But I had my suffering and the nature of suffering is to think that yours is worse than everyone else's. It likes to be compared for some odd reason. And I guarantee you when yours comes it will TO YOU be the worst suffering you could endure. No one's suffering is worse than anyone else's. You get what is needed and required.

Let us turn away then from the need to compare sufferings out of jealousy or spite. Instead, turn towards suffering with honor. To the mother left to do it on her own, we salute you. To the son left without a father and no way of knowing better, we salute you. To the child who wants to kill herself but finds a way to stay, we salute you. Your pains are your stripes. And by them you are healed.

Did I say enough? Did I say too much? I can't remember who said that you beautiful song raven, you. Alas, Alanis or whomever is stuck in my head right now beckoning me to remember that it INDEED IS ALL FOR GOOD.

This birdie is due for a nap. Hinoki and the Bird. haha. Cute.

I love you all! But especially, you.

Musings on Running

A day in the life. Well today has been nothing short of fantastic. I completed my second forty-minute run this morning, ending precisely at 8:00am. Mind you, I used to be a girl who was still lying in bed around 11am and would shortly have a nap again around 2pm. Where'd she go?

Heck if I care!

I now start my days around 5:30. Or 6:00. But it is my covenant that on my training days I will be out the door and running for at least thirty minutes by 7:37am. It was 7:07 but as the seasons change so will the time. I was running 30 minutes which is a severe increase in my performance capacity only about a month ago. Had you asked me to run, I would not have been able to run even a minute. I was obsessed with the time.

And I was obsessed with the pain I was in.

Something came over me recently and upon the consistent, intentional hintings of my friends who were training for marathons and the Olympics and who firmly believed I (however you can underline, underscore, italicize and make bold the 'i' in this sentence, please do so in your mind) that I could run. A runner I had never been. I had had double pneumonia as a child and suffered asthma or at least that's what they told me. It wasn't asthma. I can tell you another day why I refused to show anyone that I could run earlier in life. Those two trips around Sahai's doctor's office were excruciating. But then again, I wanted them to be.

Alas, I knew I wasn't a runner. But I am now. Because I decided to be. Just like that.

So anyway, my thank you today goes to the 11:58 moment on my request during my run this morning. Well, well, well...you were a minute early. And also a thank you for the great playlist.

Keep looking up.

It's Getting Hot in Here

I have the oven on downstairs and it has been on so long that it is actually heating up the upstairs, from where I type this to you now. Please hold. I need to go put my breaded fish squares in the oven. They are pollock, which is admittedly disgusting grade food and akin to feeding your dog generic and processed food. Alas, I couldn't find wild-caught breaded fish nuggets at Trader's, despite my attempt. Well, shoot. They are actually already in the oven and have about three minutes remaining before I need to go consume them. You know how it is. Trying to get one thing done until another thing pops up and you don't even remember that you were doing the first thing or the tenth thing because you get so busy and so distracted. And usually at the point of exhaustion of just trying to remember where exactly I was in the progression of things, I end up just taking a nap. That's how I recharge and get focused again. I go nap. Sorry to all you at desks and in cubicles out there in never, neverland. You don't have this luxury. I will tell you though that your car makes a great docking station and I would highly recommend parking in the darkest corner of your parking garage in order to receive maximum napping benefits. (This is recommended to you via YEARS of experience in napping in my car while I was forced and yet willing went to a desk job for many, many, too many years. You can trust this advice.) You need about 15 minutes somewhere in the middle of your day to refresh you. Okay, at least I do. And you don't have to take it from me that I am living a life that you want to be living. But, time will prove itself. DiiiiINnnnnG!