fueled.

In case I forgot to tell you,
I'm well today. I feel rather strong actually.
my mind is racing.
it's the caffeine
it's the dehydration.
my muscles are growing,
in the mirror i tell myself that i'm sexy
sometimes i smile too.
today

i decided that i'm going to quit working
one day.
and work for myself
so that i can never work again.

foot steps

I realize that I am getting older every time I forget my age. There now exists this lapse in time when asked, where I stutter before spitting out, "twenty-six." Don't worry, I don't think I'm old. The period of post collegiate ecstasy is coming to a close and I am no longer a freshman in Life. So what the fuck am I doing?

Well, right now, I'm eating pineapples and drinking strawberry kombucha. I'm eating a lot. I'm exercising. Bikram, Anti-gravity, vinyasa yoga and Pilates. It exhausts me. Tired, not from being out until 5 A.M. I'm being somewhat responsible with my body, and my feelings for that matter. I'm being a good person. At least I'm trying to.

***

My mother called it my mask, this part of my face that is darker than the rest of it. There's not a shade of foundation that could make it look even or concealed so I don't bother. I've never bothered. The last time I wore sandals, comfortably, in public was roughly 16 years ago. Maybe this will be my year. It may be time to get all, "this is my body. If you think it's ugly, don't look at it." Or maybe I'll just keep on with those huarache sandals, but at least I'm thinking about other possibilities. For the first time in a long time, my life feels like it's happening right now. Full of options and decisions I don't have to make, yet, because I'm 26 and I don't completely give a shit about anything and I'm not apologizing for it.

But that's all of us right? This here generation of student loan-lackies and DIY-entrprenuers. Do I finally just fit in?

My sister asked me a few weeks ago just how long I planned on working at the restaurant in which I'm employed, which I knew was her round-about way of leading into, "So what do you want to do with your life?" It's unfortunate the way people are expected to know and plan everything in their journey. I don't know, you guys. I have a vague vision of children, a home, an office and phone calls. Letters to people I miss. Vacations to places I've never been. Being in love and consolation during multiple phases of mourning. Death.

What am I going to do with my life? I don't know, but maybe I'll buy some sandals, and wear them in public and make you all look at my ugly toes and giggle at the past that lingers there.

Butter.

I hope

the walk home was relaxing
With air like ether
And that the descent into your slumber
Was so sluggish that it ends tomorrow.

I figured it out.
I want to have
Inconsequential
Fun.

This was not
A haiku.

pep talk.

if i keep spending time thinking about what i'm going to do with my life, i will continuously miss out on the part where i'm living it.

right?

right.

ginmargarita

I want to be in that moment, waiting for the bus to go to Cha Cha Lounge with Jamie Patterson. I want to be going over that mini-bridge from that movie she loves that we watched a million times on the t.v. that we actually had to bang the top of, to get working.

When she asked what I want to do, I told her I was too tired for a question like that? I'm beginning to wonder how much it matters. I have very basic goals in life: I want to be happy. Everything I do is in ordinance with pursuing that one goal. When I stray from it, when I do something that makes me miserable, it's because I'm doing something to make someone else happy. Which in turn is making me happy.

This will also destroy me. I should say can; this CAN also destroy me. If I know no sacrifice, how can I truly be happy. If everything I do is secretly for me, what's the point? Bah.

Bar philosopher.