soul.meets.body.

this is all i can think of—and all i want to think of—for a very long time. i mean, for at least two years.

 

i want to live where soul meets body

and let the sun wrap its arms around me

and bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

and feel, feel what its like to be new.

 

i'm not ready for the next set of lyrics. so we'll just stay right here.

 

i started this super fantastic and exciting new path (insert blog here). and craigslist was supposed to click 'submit' and send my hopes and dreams far far away. and now i'm realizing i've lost all of those dreams somewhere in-between. perhaps it's because my mouse is broken. or, you know, what were those dreams, anyway. but i'm still clinging to those other dreams—the ones that don't count but just stick in my head like when someone gives you a bad look. the one i remember most was last night when i got my tongue pierced. i was asking the sweaty, dirty piercer dude where he'd stick me with this perverse metal, and then he did it. he plucked me and it didn't hurt as bad as i thought it would—though i still made those oh-my-gosh-i've-just-been-pierced noises—but i did it. 

and then i woke up and thought it was so predictable and terrible and why did my mouth now represent a cliche. i checked my tongue later-on and it was still lovely, and naked. 

but i've lost those passions that i used to hold so near and dear. and i'm still cursing those who don't have what i don't have. so hyp-hyp-hyp-hypocritical.

 

damnit.

 

well. i'm sitting and waiting and ready for the lightning. not the bad kind, but the good kind this time. and i'm asking for it to please strike me on the left side—because that's where my heart resides—and jump start my spirit. 

i'll be here. with the same shitty look on my face. waiting.

dramatic pause.

my stomach is infested with grasshoppers these days. at any moment, they're either irritable or dancing. i haven't decided which one yet. yeah, you guessed it. it's work related. gross. i hope that doesn't mean i'm one of those people. so, yes. i've started this blog in attempts to take advantage of those amazing spare moments my brain decides to take a mental smoke break. you know, start something new. fresh. kind of like a nice head of lettuce.

oh, buses.

so. it was 4:35 and i was waiting for the bus down on sketchville 3rd and pike. to tell you the truth, i hate waiting at this stop. i find myself daily, dodging eye contact with those boozy men in tattered leather jackets and trying not to get my robot tote bag dirty when the messy-haired coke addicts obliviously storm past me. avoiding this repeated scene is my daily battle, so i jumped at the chance to catch bus 11 when it rolled up. to my surprise, the bus was stuffy-crowded and i was forced in the back. it's fall now, and in seattle that means 50s and damp. oh, seattle. at least i could breathe. so, i was on this bus, slightly irritated that this woman had her monstrous duffel bag resting on my side. then i started to think about the movie i watched the night before--match point--and tried to detect if i could feel any sharp objects in her bag (oh, you know, such as a rifle). after deciding my side was likely safe of any sudden shots to the appendix, the bus came to a halt and i was freed from my paranoia, quickly taking the nearest open seat. just as i began to relax and thank the rifle for not firing, i looked around and realized i was accompanied by a much different crowd on this bus. uhh, what is this bus 11, anyway? shit-shit-shit. we stopped at a red light and my stomach was doing somersaults. i began to worry we would take a dramatic turn and enter the freeway express lanes--you know, where people like me go to die. damnit. leaving work early just became counterproductive. one.two.three.four.five. i stopped holding my breath when i realized the mystery bus was still headed toward the hill, away from fast speeds and concrete evil.