little black book

words on early spring and a little caffeine:

its anthology season, again. i declare it so. in spring-i've found a bit of refuge. someone to model my life after. someone to ask questions at. it won't be significant for another few years maybe. another few unsettling years. acceptance of this fact is half the battle. and asking why will only the hinder my hope. hope isn't a good word. i like something a little more structured- a word with a little more meat on its bones. if i were brave enough- i'd invite your company to recite a few lines of grace and attitude in my living room; breathe a little life into this box of crap. i get cheesier as the weather gets warmer. it gets me in trouble. "i spend a lot of time laughing at myself." black bean and sage soup, how romantic is that? almost too sweet. i think i knew way more about myself when i was two, maybe three. i knew everything about the way taking care of dolphins for a living would be a sure-fire cure to my dichotomy. i knew nothing about developing silly insecurities that are too painfully real these days. thats too painfully a truth about myself. my mom says it will go away? this blondie song is from the movie i was nostalgic about earlier. its one of the thing thats makes since in my life. "you got the goods like natalie wood." i don't think quest actually said natalie wood, but i hope some where there, was some undertone of appreciation for west side story. there's that "hope" word again.