ch-ch-ch-ch-CHANGES
So I'm on a roller coaster lately. I'm on the part where you just got to the top and saw this beautiful view and thought Life was amazing, and then got dropped 10 zillion feet. You can't breathe, your jaw is going into the back of you head and your stomach is in your throat. You think, when am i going to go back up again!!!!! Get me off this stinkin thing.
I'm almost to the fun part. I have one more week at my current job. One more week of awkward convos and half-hearted apologies. One more week of vague pathetic e-mails between soon to be ex co-workers. I'm ready. I'm ready to go. This job has turned into such a needy, emotional Titanic. They seriously believe they are going down because I'm leaving. I'm like, "The professional Facebook checker was not keeping you afloat!" I'm pretty damn sure of that.
anyway, my new motto comes from an old classic, "Dumb and Dumber": Big gulps, huh? Whelp, see ya later! I'm out. I'm detaching. I'm ready for something new. I'm ready to move up.
On a completely different note:
I dreamed I went to Paris last night. I just left work and went straight to the airport. I did not have a suitcase or passport or anything. But I made it. I went straight to the eiffel tower and looked out over the magical city. Then I jumped in the Seine for a swim! Walking the city, drenched, with no place to stay, I found some bohemians to hang out with on a veranda. We saw a humpback whale dancing and leaping through the river water. it was so stunning and beautiful. They said he was showing how much he loved someone. Then I ended up sleeping with some guy who had a camera taped to his forehead the whole time. It was like 'his thing.' I ripped it off his face and smashed it.
In the dream I felt free. happy. sexy. completely alive! I wonder what it is about paris that calls me. Is it really as seductive and beautiful as I see it? Does it represent the 'me' that I wish I was? I wish I was intellectual, bohemian, sexy, beautiful, brooding, and fascinating. Maybe I feel more like my imaginary self when I am there. Who knows? Either way, I think there is nothing wrong with it. it is nice to have a fantasy island. A place you can go and live life as it should be lived. Everytime I come home from Europe, I have this desire to bring euro-living into my daily American life. I always end up loosing it somehow. I get wrapped up into the hectic movement of our culture. There must be a way to bottle Paris. I want to spritz it onto the back of my neck, on my breast and elbows. I want to smell it on me all day! Eau de Paris!
I am also aware that this need to escape my life, to run free, always comes when things are hard. Maybe there is a way to inject the romantic and the wild abandon into the mundane, and even into the hard times. A glass of red wine. A moment in the sunshine. Red lipstick. Jazz. a silky dress. the scent of roses. Pure pleasure. That is what Paris represents to me. I'm sure I can find some pleasure today. It doesn't have to come in a perfume bottle.
I'm almost to the fun part. I have one more week at my current job. One more week of awkward convos and half-hearted apologies. One more week of vague pathetic e-mails between soon to be ex co-workers. I'm ready. I'm ready to go. This job has turned into such a needy, emotional Titanic. They seriously believe they are going down because I'm leaving. I'm like, "The professional Facebook checker was not keeping you afloat!" I'm pretty damn sure of that.
anyway, my new motto comes from an old classic, "Dumb and Dumber": Big gulps, huh? Whelp, see ya later! I'm out. I'm detaching. I'm ready for something new. I'm ready to move up.
On a completely different note:
I dreamed I went to Paris last night. I just left work and went straight to the airport. I did not have a suitcase or passport or anything. But I made it. I went straight to the eiffel tower and looked out over the magical city. Then I jumped in the Seine for a swim! Walking the city, drenched, with no place to stay, I found some bohemians to hang out with on a veranda. We saw a humpback whale dancing and leaping through the river water. it was so stunning and beautiful. They said he was showing how much he loved someone. Then I ended up sleeping with some guy who had a camera taped to his forehead the whole time. It was like 'his thing.' I ripped it off his face and smashed it.
In the dream I felt free. happy. sexy. completely alive! I wonder what it is about paris that calls me. Is it really as seductive and beautiful as I see it? Does it represent the 'me' that I wish I was? I wish I was intellectual, bohemian, sexy, beautiful, brooding, and fascinating. Maybe I feel more like my imaginary self when I am there. Who knows? Either way, I think there is nothing wrong with it. it is nice to have a fantasy island. A place you can go and live life as it should be lived. Everytime I come home from Europe, I have this desire to bring euro-living into my daily American life. I always end up loosing it somehow. I get wrapped up into the hectic movement of our culture. There must be a way to bottle Paris. I want to spritz it onto the back of my neck, on my breast and elbows. I want to smell it on me all day! Eau de Paris!
I am also aware that this need to escape my life, to run free, always comes when things are hard. Maybe there is a way to inject the romantic and the wild abandon into the mundane, and even into the hard times. A glass of red wine. A moment in the sunshine. Red lipstick. Jazz. a silky dress. the scent of roses. Pure pleasure. That is what Paris represents to me. I'm sure I can find some pleasure today. It doesn't have to come in a perfume bottle.
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