The Importance of Being Honest

I have had writer's block for the past two weeks with this thing. I started this little project about a month ago and have figured out a few things such as when I can factor time in to write, places I like to write at, and my longer than necessary editing process.  

Lately, when I sit down during my designated "writing" time, I can't seem to put words to the page. Last week I literally stared at my blank screen into the wee hours of the morning.  And it's not that I have nothing to write about. I have had idea after idea, the words spinning in my head as I stare into space on the A train, walk down the city streets, or during a lull at work. They are there. But they won't come out.

I had a conversation with my mother last week, conversations I try to put off as long as possible, about how I should really watch what I say because I don't know who's reading and no one in their right mind would ever want to be with a girl like me if I keep strewing my scandalous thoughts and adventures all over the internet. 

I told her they can suck my dick. 

But it doesn't mean her words didn't stick. They have been the sticky glue that has bound my hands together and prevented me from writing what I really want to say because I am now worried about judgements. But that sort of fear is what got me here in the first place. Judgement is artistic kryptonite and The Rolling Stones didn't get where they got because they were worried about what their mothers would say.

I'm tired of being so afraid of everything. I am tired of people saying I am too intense like it's a bad thing. 

I have been the girl who has kept her mouth shut. Who didn't want to stir the pot or say or do anything out of line. That girl kept me in a bad relationship ten months too long. That girl got me into all those bad relationships after . That girl has hindered me in my career. She was afraid speak up. Afraid of being too much. Afraid of rejection.

I have kept my lips silenced, my actions agreeable, jumped up, turned left, run right and gone down on cue.

I don't want to be afraid anymore. There are things that I need to say, that someone needs to say, while everybody else sits in silence nodding their heads making idle conversations about the weather. 

I don't care about the weather. I don't care what you do for a living or where your apartment is located or how much money you have. I want to know who you are. I want to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, what turns you on. 

These are questions I am begging to ask strangers in the street. Strangers I see on the train. We all have a story to tell and we shouldn't be made to feel embarrassed or ashamed because we are brave enough to admit our faults and tell the whole story. 

Life is not a ladder to climb. It is a coaster to ride. There are ups and downs and sharp turns and all of a sudden it takes you for a loop. Sometimes you feel like you just might vomit and then you go soaring over a hill and you are suddenly filled with a joy that courses through your body with all the vigor of an orgasm. 

I am an extremist. I love and hate life in extremes. I love and hate others in extremes. I love and hate myself in extremes. I have the capacity to feel intense happiness and earth shattering sadness and I know I couldn't have one without the other and for that I feel blessed.

I know that I cannot sit hear and listen when people tell me I am too much or not enough because as hard as I try to meet peoples expectations I have been both. I have been too much. I have not been enough. I've been loved and left and none of it has been because I say "dick" too much.

I am worthy of love and love for who I am. Not for some copy of an idea of what a 'good' girl should be. I have done 'bad' things but I have mostly done 'good' things and I think if you asked those who knew me they would say I am a good person. A great friend. A loyal, trustworthy, hard worker and these are the things I would like factored in at the end of the day. There are people in my life who see this and I only want those people in my life who appreciate me for all my good, all my bad, and all my insanity. 

Because I refuse to be less. In fact, I'd like to be more.

I want to strive for more, work for more, help others, and try to make any sort of sense out of this crazy life we're all supposed to live and what living even means. With the occasional obscenity thrown in.  

Perfection is a fallacy. 

I am shattered. I am made of a billion, broken shards of glass, but like a mosaic I am all these pieces brought together by my crazy glue. And it's a beautiful thing. 

So, god damn it,  once again. Either you want to hear what I have to say or you get off my blog.

Round and round and round the words go, where they stop, hell if I know.

Broken Record