Die

A black SUV honked at me earlier and waved as if I would recognize the hand waving from the driver’s window after it passed. Nope, sorry, it was too far away and moving. There are so many tabs open –this one is the 10th of 31. 17 Google tabs that are likely all “define word I’m not sure works with what I’m going for.” I need to trust myself more because in most, if not all cases, yes, the word worked with what I was going for. I’m listening to Elyse Myers’ book. It took me a little while to get it... I think because I was scared to listen as silly as that seems. I think I was scared because I see so much of myself in her stories and she fucking did the thing. She wrote the book. Do I have enough of my life written down and documented in detail to craft a book of my own? Yes. Have I crafted said book? No. Chubbs is farting and it stinks. He’s laying on the bed next to me. Butt facing me. Ready and aimed for the pffffffffffffffft. They’re so air-y –the farts. Like a full three second count. Okay, maybe not that long, but it seems to be such a long way for the air to travel and make sound. Enough of the farts, Leah.  

Before I started writing about farts, I was thinking about how I’ve released some of my writings into the wild on my website, but I haven’t released anything in a bit, so I opened one of the many tabs to one of my journals. A digital journal where I talked about writing a love letter to myself. And when I read that, I was like YES, that’s what I’ll do –write a love letter to myself, but I really don’t feel like doing that right now. Like, not even a little bit.  

I’ve been thinking about the videos I posted yesterday about my epiphany – the subconscious belief I had that I was inconvenient and my body a burden and someone left a comment on one of them. “It’s not talked about enough!…..how teachers deny students in elementary school the bathroom is absolutely beyond criminal.” AND IT FUCKING IS. I had actually forgotten about this part of it... it’s not just parental punishment, it’s at school too. It’s fucked. And I was thinking about how passionate I felt about it and how it’s not the only thing I feel passionate about, and I had the thought of what other subconscious beliefs I’ve uncovered and reparented myself through. It just went as far as that thought, I haven’t like intentionally taken time to write out a list or anything and nothing has come up... at least not long enough to stick.  

But I was thinking how a former version of me was self conscious about sharing my thoughts on reparenting or parenting or raising children because I don’t have children, but I was a child and have done the work to uncover a ton of shit and also I don’t give a fuck what people think of me anymore. Now, I just need the next topic.  

Okay, I’m going to finish the New Girl for like the third time watching it all the way through. It’s my comfort show. Guaranteed laughs. Who knows, maybe it’ll spark something and I’ll be back later. We’ll see. If not, I love you so fucking much, Leah. You are fucking incredible and you are enough.  

“Die” LOL 

Okay, I had to write that down while I watched Thunderbolts so I didn’t forget. I watched Thunderbolts after New Girl. Anyway, “Die”... while I was meditating today in the backyard I got a call and looked at my watch to see it was a spam risk number. Then, when I was finished meditating I looked at my watch notifications after I turned off my timer and saw I had gotten what I thought was a text from the number that said “Die.” My first thought was damn, okay, I will, when it’s my time... we all will. Then, I thought damn, bots are really weird these days. Then, I thought that’s really fucking scary to think about a bot/spam sending text messages that say “die” ...like what if they go to a kid’s number. Then, I thought, nahhhh it’s someone using a service for an unknown number to text me “die.” Who would text me that? S. LOL. I was going in. I thought she never has been good with words –I mean, I did write her vows. And she’s like the only person I could think of that probably wouldn’t mind if I died... is that terrible? I mean, because of what I know –that her life is so fucking curated and all a lie basically. Anyway, turns out it wasn’t a text –it was the transcription of the voicemail which was an automated voice getting cut off and all that was audible was I believe part of a word “die.” Fucking wild, right? 

Oh, I thought about something else whilst watching my shows and showering – the guy at the park. The black guy with the Rottweiler. He was sitting on the bench under the pavilion with his dog today. He always looks at me and smiles. And I’ve had the feeling a few times that he was going to say something, but nope, still nothing. And today, again, looked at me and smiled and this time the way he had his phone in his hand like bouncing it nervously on his knee... I really thought he was going to do it. I think he really thought he was going to do it too. I think even his dog thought he was really going to do it –sitting all regal-like at his feet. He got his hair braided a few days ago –the guy, not the dog. It looks nice, but I did really like it before. He has a nice body and he’s tall. I think his face is nice too, but honestly haven’t gotten a super good look because I’ve been afraid to look at him for too long. I think I’ll look at him longer the next time I see him. I’ve seen him smoking on the outer grass path of the park and he kind of acted like he had been caught – extra smiley that day. Anyway, yeah. I think that sums it up.  

I was thinking about the part of the book I’m at –Elyse’s book –and it’s the chapter on how observant she is of people and how people give her maps of themselves and she knows how to make a map, but not necessarily navigate the map. And I love this chapter because I’m like fucking yes, I love weird notes about people –shorthand people maps. I think a part of myself felt it unnecessary or too weird or something and stopped doing it as much, but reading err listening to this part has me back to believing it’s one of the parts of myself I love so fucking much. So, observant shorthand or longhand will be in full swing from this point forward. Hence, the first mention of Rottweiler park guy. 

Okay, time for sleeps. I love you, Leah. You are so fucking beautiful.