if pens were knives and clouds were stones,
buried alive i'd bleed alone.
watch the sun rise, she overthrows;
now you can hide or you can roam.

curse this page, naked to the bone
how do I turn ink into gold?
time to make the story unfold:
same old voice, a new shadow.

if all the words were tea leaves
they'd be my skin - just have to steep:
so give my body to the sea,
float in an ocean made of tea.

Today I took out $40 during my transaction at the self-checkout lane at King Soopers; this cash was to represent the last spendable funds I am allowed before my next paycheck. Apparently I blatantly ignored the robo-bitch when she said "Don't forget to take your cash from the cash dispenser,"  then went over to sit at a table in the lounge area and read a book. When I left, I went to my car, checked the cash-ID-card section of my fanny pack and realized I was missing those two sparkling twenty dollar bills.

Somewhat panicked, I power-walked back inside, went to my checkout station; nothing there, of course. The woman at the station across from me seemed to have caught my vibe and asked if I needed anything, then I found a friendly man in a blue shirt and German accent. He immediately said "That was you then, eh? The $40?"  I was so immediately relieved; he let me know how luck I was and I told him how thankful I was, took my money, and went back to work.

Thanks, Universe, for not punishing me for a blatant act of stupidity today.

Consider creativity less like a trait, and more like an attitude.

If I had ten thousand extra hours, I would learn how to paint just so you could see how beautiful you are.

dead meowfive.

the fucking cat brought me a FUCKING dead mouse. on my bed. now I have to burn all of my blankets.

i lack the foresight for under-ripe avocados. here's to remembering them and having awesome tacos in two days.

so here i am. eternally stuck.
dancing on peanut butter.