Conversation with a co-worker who (surprisingly) reads my blog:
"What you wrote about your hoo-ha was gross? Why don't you write about anything nice?"
"Ha. Like what?"
"Like about vacations, and your new apartment, and happy things."
"That's no fun at all. Who wants to read about happy things?"
"I do. I don't know." [Shaking her head.]
Now you tell me, are you more or less satisfied after reading this entry?
(I feel clean but very unsatisfied.)
To my coworker: write your own blog. Make it clean or dirty. Write it for you. I will write this one for me. Thank you for your interest and I hope to keep you as a reader. I do welcome feedback, but please don't be too offend if I ignore or laugh at your feedback. If you can't hang, read someone else's blog. I won't be offend (or really care at all.)
[Can you see my permanent Bitch-Face?--you know the one, the one that is always on my face when I'm not smiling.]
The truth is mine. This truth is mine to write, here in this blog. Sometimes it's sweet. Always sassy. Sometimes it's nasty, hurtful, self-loathing, mean, shitty, bitchy, sad, lonely, lovely, loving, unsure, guilty, remorseful, boastful--I am very happy with and comfortable with being a human and feeling all the things that us humans feel. That's why I write. I need to say it. Whatever "it" is. This blog is my record. It's a way of recording myself, of accountability, of freedom. I don't owe anyone here any thing. This is about me. I get to be selfish here.
[Can you see my big smiling face?--the one with the crinkly, squinty eyes, and full-mouth smile?]
I am happy here even when I am spouting hate and anger and fear. Spouting is happy for me. Spouting is sanity.
Bunnies. Flowers. Sunshine. Chocolate. Wine. Puppies. Rainbows. Happy now?