Your up!

In an hour I will be putting my emotion box on stage in front of a man I exchanged conversation with for only 5 minutes. He will then decide if I am worthy enough to join his team. In his eyes a team that consists of some of the best. I consider myself one of the best, but then what credit do I have to even think that. Like Show and Tell from my elementary school days, I will have to whip out all the tricks I encase in order to woo him, the crowd, and the studio. Although my mouth will do all the talking, my eyes will be on the sidelines, alluring him into my web. Stumbling words will have to transition smoothly into convincing improv. Eye twitching and leg trembling will have to be at a minimum level so as not to distract. As a matter of fact there will be no nervous movement from my end at all. When he waves his hand for me to proceed, I will become someone else. And then silence. I’ll smile shyly, say thank you, turn around and walk off stage… No bowing, that would mark a sign of cockiness I had yet to earn.

Kava Tea

Some how fate worked its magical powers and introduced Kava Tea into my life. I’ve become a love fool, constantly pheening for a fix. I take more out of this relationship, abusing it for it’s euphoric affection. Time spent sipping it should be enough returned satisfaction. We’re equals, my compliments are ever flowing. As I cup my hand to form its smooth curved container (tea cup), warmth quickly surges through my fingers. Once tilted, droplets drip onto my tongue triggering a tingling sensation. The tea has begun its course, and the goosebumps come out from hibernation. Pretty soon my mind releases tension/anxiety and thoughts of contentment strike me down gently.

 

If people only knew what lived behind the eyes that are placed symmetrically above the nose that is centered perfectly on top of the gentle lips that linger on my face. A closet passionist (which is a word I made up?) A head case, and most of all a loner. But a great person indeed!

Another Bull-shit Post About Me

Sometimes writing is the only way to truly express how I feel. Mostly because it lacks a voice and face, which generally give off expressions of how I really feel when I yell. I’m not saying that you can’t obtain all that from great writing, but its less evident and more in the gray area. You can easily say, “Oh you thought that’s what I meant when I wrote …..?” When in fact you can lie and give a picture of a whole other way of interpreting written words. Saying that, I do write truth, and if you know me well you can probably assume exactly what I’m saying when I write..

Today was a little stuffy inside, and as rainy and cold as it was outside I just had to venture out. Comfy is never comfy but rather a safe place that gets you going know where. Safe has always been an eerie feeling for me. Go figure, I always last 5 minutes in a nice warm bath tub and then I’m out. When I feel that things are too safe and comfy I quickly figure out a way to make it harder, sometimes subconciously. I decided to be very dangerous and go to an acting studio’s informational session. Big numbers were thrown at me, along with amazing opportunities. There’s the line again, choosing what’s comfortable now or what’s harder in the long run.

Is it starting to get a little to toasty in this Starbucks.. I’m sweating…

I should just call this blog ME, because its constantly being filled with posts that are all about me, my quarrels, happy times, sad times, confused times, spacey times and dangerous times. I hate talking about myself, it reminds me of how odd I am.

I soo want to delete this meaningless post, but I’ll let it be.

Cigarettes Are Bad