warning: stream of blog consciousness.
People, it's February. How long has it been February? Approximately 350,000 millennia. I don't remember January. I don't remember warm. I don't remember what this post was going to be about. Oh wait, yes.
My point is this: Winter is the longest, stupidest, soul-suckingest time of the year. It can really be detrimental to the functioning and well-being of my brains. Do they have serotonin pills? My baby child has this tiny sun toy that crinkles. Sometimes i play with it and whisper pitifully, "shine on me, sun... shine on me..." as I shrink and crumble to the floor and lie with my head on the giant pillow we're sharing, face-to-face with baby, noses touching, until he licks my face and brings me back to life. I think there is serotonin in baby licks.
What can we do about this? I need your help. I have a suspicion there may be others in the same boat. We need to help each other. But how? I feel like I need to form a connection to the outside world, namely, with other humans. At this point I'd probably settle with talking to a robot but I guess something alive would be better. I'd talk to my amaryllis but it died, finally.
So how to establish this? What do we talk about? Something that immediately comes to mind, regarding bonding, is girls camp. Or just a group of girls. It appears that generally, when females congregate and one begins "opening up," others do too. Either they are naturally like this, or some feel pressure to open up, to reciprocate so others feel ok about what they just revealed. I have found myself in that kind of situation often. I'm not one to really pour out my heart and soul to the next passing stranger, (I like to be mysterious) but sometimes in certain situations I've felt maybe a bit of pressure or like I ought to participate in kind, so I do. Occasionally the sentiment or experience i share is real, and the shared moment is nice and you're like, ok that's cool. But often I find myself just making something up--haha, or kind of, what's the word... sharing a story and then embellishing it a bit until i'm like, what the hey did i just say? That's not even true. It's not like a LIE and it's really insignificant, but it doesn't exactly 100% reflect my true feelings. I'm just talking just to talk, know what i mean?
Aaaanyway, if you got through that paragraph, A+. So here is what I suggest.
CONFESSIONS. Ha ha ha. I don't know why. I think the rickets setting in is making me crazy in the head. But is there something funny/embarrassing/painfully heavy on your conscience that you JUST HAVE TO GET OFF YOUR CHEST? Whoa, I all-capped way too many words there. It should have only just been the last 3, or maybe even just "chest," or "have." Or maybe just italicized? When in doubt, italicize, as i always say.
So let's have it. Please? I am CERTAIN the resulting bond will make us BBFFs (blog best friends forever) with each other forever. Wait that's redundant. forever forever. Well it just emphasizes my point. And this shared bond will help us feel close to other humans and we won't completely lose all social skills from being hermits & trolls due to stupid stupid stupid winter. Oh, and i invite people of all genders.
Ok let me think, and i promise i won't make anything up, just for bonding's sake.
CONFESSION: i once stole a saltwater taffy from the big bin at Smith's grocery. It was purple, and i ate it on my bike later that day, and it was delicious. I mean, i thought it was like "here have a free sample." That bin was so big and open and accessible. They should really be more careful.
CONFESSION: As I type, I am halfway to rapidly eating an entire container of almonds. Think about that. Almonds aren't very easy to eat. I'm out of control.
CONFESSION: I have phonaphobia and totally respond to people's calls by emailing them.
CONFESSION: One time i bumped a parked car and drove off. *shameful face* I looked to see if there was any damage and i couldn't see any. What was i supposed to do? i was late for the olympics. (<-- true. but, no expansion.)
CONFESSION: When I was small, like around 7 or so, my mother was baking bread. The details are sketchy but all i know is some of the dough scraps, perhaps rolled into a ball, got thrown into the trash. I think i was eating some of it beforehand and then it got thrown away accidentally? I'm not sure. Either way, I reached in the trash, pulled out the dough ball, and continued eating it. Then when my brother asked if i'd just gotten it out of the trash, I lied and said "no..." Lying is bad, i understand. But what's the greater crime here? Lying, eating food out of the trash, or eating dough??? You tell me. All three are reprehensible. Anyway, WHEW. I feel so much better.
Ok, i guess i've divulged enough for now. You HAVE to comment. I need this, don't you understand? You have my awesomely hilarious blog posts (or in this case, scary and disturbing--Sean said after reading this: "i feel dirty") to keep you entertained for days and days, but it's not the same for me (it almost is). I wrote it! It doesn't last as long. (almost as long)