Gibson Guaranteed

  Sleeping was unusually difficult last night. I went to bed at a decent time thinking I would pass out in clean consciousness. But, this time the looming sensation of “lists” had set my ship a sail to the sea of agendas. And I lay there for an unknown amount of time compiling all the shit I have to do and wondering if I can look smooth doing it. That is… with out freaking out and barking out belligerent phrases sporadically at the chimps in my closet, unleashing the broom I keep for witch nights during full moons and beatnik Sundays. Who knows? Its like cool and stuff.

 The ritual began and I decided that it was a good night for Tylenol PM. I realized my lack of dependency on this particular easy painless sleeping assistant has caused me to feel like a dumb head this morning. Because, I’m not use to popping two at a time, like I had month and months and months past. Just note, I only took one last night. As a matter of fact, this sleeping agent relieved the sciatic nerve pain that was shooting through my lower spine. But, yes I do hate the dreary flat face I feel on this lovely morning. Its all very cloudy outside.

 Ahhh, speaking non-sense. I entertain myself.

   I am basically alone in the office today, which means not-so-smooth sailing for internet companionship. Foo Foo. I thought I would yap about a few things that tangle my brain. One thing that tazzles my brain is people and attention. I never liked being the center of attention, especially when in my skin, my own skin, the skin you find laying on the couch watching Hell’s Kitchen. I lived in a wholesome plastic bubble most of life, so giving me a shit load of attention makes me cringe and want to hide.

  In social settings I have a tendency to play the clam-ature act out of nervousness. I simply, just keep to myself and wait for a comfortable one on one conversation… That is when I am in my own skin. But, you see I am a very good actress! Because when I am in another person’s skin I have no problem being infront of a crowd. I’ll belt out “Vision of Love” like Mariah Carey and bang keys like Tori’s Cornflake and be a social delight in heels for promotional cocktail parties … that is … when I’m in some one else’s skin. In my own skin, I am not so good. I am quiet. Reserved.

 And I suppose I’m telling you this (myself this) because I am afraid of this next big event, the wedding. There I will stand in my own skin, letting all of these people into my safe intimate world. Nothing shading me from my snorty horse teeth laughs and my strange moments of silence. All of the pages in my book, laid out for everyone to see and maybe even comment on. I fear this greatly. Scared. Chicken shit. And there I go again in my clam-ature act.

 All the phases of my life, come to head, meet and realize they all have nothing in common. But, they do in my eyes.

Guess who’s shoes came in? Yup! These are the bride’s shoes!!!   Eeeekkkk!!! UPS, I love you!!! Despite the accentuated skinny heel, they are not awful to walk in! The inside of the shoe is cushioned and quite comfortable on the balls of your feet. Ohhhh! I’d model them for you, but my toes are in need of a major paint job.  As you can see …   I have my toes covered today. These my friend, are my safe shoes. They go with everything and are like clouds on my feet. Thanks to Marshal’s, they were an excellent buy.

  OKKKKK! That was a nice morning rush! I’ll stop yapping and get my ass back to work.