It is pretty interesting to sit and just start writing about my day. Clearly and in full disclosure, I am selective of what I write about. I have to say, it is not my favorite way of being. I would much rather sit and type the full truth, the entire spectrum, my whole day, every thought I had, the interaction I shared, and my honest opinions about some serious nonsense. “Serious nonsense” is my favorite because life is pretty much that, well at least in the human experience aspect. At the end of the day, when I lie down, it is so easy for me to laugh off what once seemed pressing or consuming. I factor this into my ability to get in my sleep zone which I do not let anyone into. It is a mental zone. My mental zone. I fly backward away from the earth and I look down and see all the people I spent my day with, everyone who I text, everyone I will interact with tomorrow and I just stay up there with one leg hiked up like Wonder Woman of course with a cape, headband, and boots…and I think, none of this matters the way it seems it does. It matters to be in sync with others, it matters that you shared some goodness and that you honored your souls connecting in the exact moment they did. We had a cat growing up, Sarah. I hate that name by the way. Shout out to my Sarah readers, remember none of this matters so let it go and just know I was named after one of the Chipette’s even though she spells it wrong. This is my journal and apparently, I can tell it how I really feel but only about certain things. Your name was up. Anyway, this cat with the name I can’t stand used to just close her eyes and she would be asleep. At least that is what I thought. And it would make me so angry and confused because, one hello, I’m talking to you, SARAHHHH, and two, because I had trouble sleeping when I was little. So this cat set this goal for me, to be able to sleep like that. Believe me, I have spent my life mastering it to the point that people think I am lazy. Obviously, I am not. I mastered being able to close my eyes and fall asleep nearly instantaneously. I just don’t appreciate the operating hours someone decided we had to standardly live by, it was probably someone named Sarah. I mean, I do not shine during these hours. I do my best work outside of them and maybe just out of spite but I think it has something to do with the energy shift at night. So y’all keep crawling into bed early so there is more quiet for me to thrive in. And then I can have my nap tomorrow. And if you don’t appreciate a good nap, you’re probably lying about other things too. Just like Sarah who lied to me about being asleep. So back then before I was a sleep guru, my sister who was responsible for naming me, would tell me stories and use this ASMR voice and sounds well before it became this horribly annoying and somewhat awkwardly explicit social media trend…aren’t they all? My sister was good at knowing who my crush was, yes I had crushes very early on and yes, of course, she knew because, of course, I told her and everyone else like Sarah who fake slept while I did and inevitably fucked me up for life as a result only so they could get me to go away. The things my sister would say were things like “You’re on a tropicalll island with so and so and the air is coolllll, crissssssp, and calmmmmmmm…the story would come to an end and I was fucking ready to party again because what five-year-old needs to be on a tropical island with their kindergarten crush?! I was that five-year-old. We would giggle (it probably was just me) and then I would watch the shadows on the white sliding closet doors from the swaying bush out the window and pray tonight was no different than all the others in that the aliens and bush man were going to stay outside and not wake me up because I was not like Sarah, and my sister was out cold and not about to tell me how the story ended because it would have never been enough for me anyway.  

If I could share anything in this journal, I would. But it has come to my attention that not everyone is like me. Cannot believe this is just being told to me. The nerve. But truth be told, I knew that from the start and I respected it within myself. I guess that Subaru peace is rubbing off on me after all. I have girlfriends for this, not a journal. If you happen to sit next to us or be within a 5-mile radius you’re going to understand too. Not enjoy, understand. And you can do what you would like with that understanding. I have a few ideas, especially if you have a liar cat name. The joy I experience when I am with my girlfriends (girrrrlllllllll you are included too, that’s a shoutout to my best male friend) is unlike anything. No shame, no holding back, total understanding of each other, and sometimes better than we understand ourselves. In these instances the volume of laughter is not inaccurate by choice memory, it is likely louder. I like crying off my makeup and slapping a sweaty thigh. I like not being able to get the next word out because it hurts too much to talk and I like the idea of interlocking my nose ring to be as close as possible so no one makes the mistake of thinking we want to chat with them. I like that as we sit together, we are all talking about 10 different stories and blending them all without ever questioning how the hell we got where we got and how we are going to get back to where we need to be. We just do. We are right where we are supposed to be. And when I am honest and share my thoughts, I feel the same way. That is, if I can share anything I want, I hate being held back in that way. And so I mentioned in my intro to this Open Journal, I was going to have to learn how I was going to navigate this and this is one of those aspects. Learning to navigate feeling like I can share this and not that, etc. because the idea is foreign to me. One time I got a creative hair when we had a company ugly Christmas sweater competition. I bought a t-shirt, a cardboard circle, and printed photos of my exes and glued them to it along with “Merry X-Mas!” I won. Duh. And not because any of them were ugly. I received some texts in the following weeks and one who admitted nearly two years after he did not trust me anymore. OK, so it is a big secret we were married? Whoops blew that one’s cover. He did say while we were married that on my headstone he would have them put “At least I was honest…” I think it was meant as an insult but I recently had it put into my will as my last parting words to this earth. As the text came in I was like how the hell are you guys keeping tabs on me still? And why do you care? Also, it was eye-opening to recognize they still did not understand my sense of humor and one wrote “We were never officially a couple…” Ok, Brad (not his real name, ew too), would you like me to remove you from the sweater and resubmit to the company? I was hoping he didn’t say yes because I am pretty sure he was the trophy maker… also, thank you for clearing up we weren’t officially a couple, Brad. I will update my sister so she stops putting us on an island together. Lord. Hope he sleeps better now that he got that all cleared up. I certainly do every time I remember that sweater. 

Men have told other men I have slept with them when I hadn’t. Women have told other women I kissed them when I had. People just do and say what makes sense to them in the moment and that doesn’t mean it is so. It also doesn’t mean they will always feel that way or think it was ok to say what they did. We are all growing, or at least should be. I have never wanted to be around the people who believe the bullshit they heard about me anyway. It is such a solid elimination tool. And it is not what is said about me that bothers me, it is the amount of time in between finding out who the idiots are who believed it. Rumors get spread, people’s opinions get shared, stories get told without your input and version of the truth and then magically there are people, or maybe just one person still standing there with you. Those are my people. And every one of my girlfriends is one of those people. I am lucky in that way. Good people have always found their way into my life. I love that. I oftentimes want to believe everyone is a good person, that full-grown ass adults are over making up stories, and that people naturally are just straight-shooters who can handle addressing things and having difficult, maybe uncomfortable conversations to get this serious nonsense handled. I don’t know what that all boils down to. Sometimes I think it is a lack of connection I have, or selfishness perhaps, I see the world and life the way I want to just like everyone else and I think well, why don’t you just try this way out? However, different strokes for different folks. Or as my dad once replied to me, “Some people like coffee” when I said well maybe I am not everyone’s cup of tea. Lots of people like coffee. That is what makes the world go round. And I am thankful that as this world keeps spinning, it continues to spin some pretty amazing people into mine and also spun some out. In my mind, they really went flying! Theme music is playing, not sure what song it is though, but it is a good one. And they were spread eagle flying, flying into other people’s lives who understand the world the same way they do, whose truths align and whose nose rings want to interlock. Or whatever their equivalent is because I am sure the fact that I pierced my nose twenty years ago is trashy too. And that is how I understand this life and experience. We are not meant to hold on, we are meant to let go and accept what is coming our way. I imagine a jawbreaker. The classic big-ass white one with the paint splatter. I watched the How It Is Made episode on these puppies and it reminds me so much of this vision I have of life. My understanding. We are these big ass boring white balls until we get tossed around and get covered in unique patterns of color. Then some nasty little snotty-nosed face comes along grabs a hold of you with dirty fingernails and clammy palms and licks away at your spots. Thats life. And we all have someone licking away at us at a different rate. But seeing as we are just big ass jawbreakers, we are unaware of how long we have individually, and rather than acknowledge that, most would rather stare at the tongue and listen to its lies fearing the words instead of the time they have left and what they are doing with it. So at night when I mentally put on my Wonder Woman outfit (you know damn well I wear rags to bed), fluff my pillows up, douse myself in frankincense, and put on a lip mask that smells like a tropical island without kindergarten crushes, or Brad…I close my eyes and sleep peacefully. Because I remember, this is all just serious nonsense and it begins again tomorrow…if I am lucky enough to be licked at a slow rate.