One-A-Day

he loved me... and i could never make myself feel anything beyond platonic. once i cleared the cobwebs of an (adolescent?) (naive?) idealistic happy-ever-after i could see that he was not my prince charming it was i who charmed him into thinking that he could play that role and it was i who opposed his valiant quest and it was i who played the villain. now that i've ended things i feel like i'm inadequate (and fear that i'll feel the same forever) because i had this man and instead of doing the honorable thing and talking things out with him and maybe working to fix things i ran into the arms of another man but i know deep down that without this encounter, i'd never have worked up the resolve to go through with it. i learned passion, i learned...so much about myself already and i think i've been changing everyday even though i tried to hide it for years i think the butterfly i thought i was becoming a few years ago was flying on borro...

some days i feel insecure self-conscious flawed wrong somehow. other days i get out of bed and feel like i can do anything (nothing can break my stride!) ...unless i break that stride myself -- with self criticism self-doubt by denying that i am good enough strong enough enough . i am truly and always... an artist a writer a musician a dreamer... a hard-worker a person of integrity (though -- like anyone -- i've had my stumbles along the way) but i let others determine my path all too often. i let others' uninformed words affect my outlook on the world (and subsequent actions). but time and again, i reach a point where i decide to break off... despite my failure to plan ahead my lack of whistling ability my stage fright (when singing, mind you) my confusion... i am optimistic friendly generous honest loving understanding and give of myself deeply (oftentimes, too much ... too soon...) i am working on changing my tendency to beco...

i fear that while my acts are repressible (reprehensible?) my feelings cannot be forgotten (nor forgiven?) i've broken it. (can it be fixed?)

do i grouse about work because i hate it? because i hate my coworkers? because i hate my customers? because i hate stagnation. because i hate not living up to my potential by accepting mediocrity. i realize that most people are average and to be a part of this crowd is no shame, but i -- like the ginger mermaid -- want more for myself. curiosity will not kill me as it did the poor feline. on the contrary, it keeps me alive. keeps electricity surging through my nerves. sameness and stability, while good in ways, are not satisfying. i need to dare to risk failure in order to truly succeed. i must risk crashing to the ground if i wish to soar.

grouse / grous \ verb : To grumble; complain. grouse / grous \ noun : A complaint. Stuck in rush-hour traffic with nothing on the airwaves but frustratingly perky talk radio hosts, Frank only alternative to shifting into Grand-Theft-Auto- mode was to grouse about his predicament.

i fear my inactivity will result in a pyknic future self a self who would rather indulge in calories and sedentary life does this path begin with mental atrophy? after graduation, the grey matter is rarely challenged we get into "habits" of doing things and employment is never varied enough to prevent atrophy of the body and mind and once the limbs are devoid of muscle and the mind free of stimulation it all becomes automatic and we eat whatever is placed before us i fear my adulthood is that of a robot whose abilities are stripped of meaning because change has no place in a rigid box no longer a maze, this life of mine

pyknic / PIK-nik \  adjective : Having a rounded build or body structure.   pyknic / PIK-nik \  noun : A person of the pyknic type. Much as she tried, Sarah couldn't watch the pyknic man walk by without an oscillating tuba tune playing in her head.