Writing My Wrongs

I was well for 6 days in a row. Then I got sick again. Once again, I am bed ridden and delirious. Well...delirious/delusional...whatever. A month of being sick; my social life has dwindled down to nada. Wack!

I like the fact that my bathroom has a window that faces the main street. I don’t know but in the morning I like hearing the noises of the morning’s hustle and bustle. It’s bright in the shower and it really makes it jump start my imagination as to how I can come up with another way to fuck up a beautiful day.
I am so evil sometimes.

It’s in my shower that I always have random thoughts. Nothing really ever being connected…just thoughts that come and go.

Random thoughts today:
1. if I were a man, would I treat a woman good
2. would I rather be in love or not in love
3. why do I look better in vibrant colors versus muted ones when I definitely have red undertones which should be contrasting with the vibrant colors
4. I recognize that I usually take the road that is probably not the safest
5. I wish the shower had better water pressure
6. do I want to be waking up to the same person for the rest of my life
7. the last time I had sex was the very...
8. why would I need to make a whole box of speghetti noodles for myself
9. why do I have a weird attraction to spaghetti noodles and thoughts of rolling around in a vat of them
10. do I really want California coming to New York

There is a band (DaveMatthewsBand) that has a song that has no words…so everytime they play it at a concert, it is always different lyrics. I like that, but I like DMB. It reminds me of my sophomore year in high school when I was hanging out with white girls like they were my kin. The music reminds me of that phase were I was listening to ska music and going to hear zydeco music while high on LSD. My sophomore year in high school was something kin to a walk on the wild side in a white mans world…just for a while. It was a time where I was rebelling against my father, I stole for no reason, I ditched classes, I dated NBA players that were ridiculously to old for me, I drank hard, I spent time in juevy, I was my very worse in the 10th grade. The very worse that I have ever been and at this point, ever was.

I look back on that year and I used to hate myself for putting my daddy through that but…I recognize that without those experiences…I wouldn’t be me. I am glad they only lasted a year and not my entire teenage years. Oddly, I slipped right back into being the square I was before that year…and I went back to being the quiet goody two-shoes.

So…I am missing a pairing knife from my knife set. For the very life of me I can’t think of where it is…could be. Again with the over active imagination, I start to think of black-outs and being some sort of avenger of evil…out stalking bad men with a pairing knife. Or, maybe I just paired someone who was good but still deserved a good knifing.

It’s better to be killed by someone you know on accident, then by someone you don’t know on purpose. – Peter Griffin

Seriously, where’s my knife?
*and I should stop watching tv if all I can remember to quote is TheFamilyGuy*

And as a parting word…
I will find my own way out.