anyone wanna play tiddly winks?

I am in full avoidance of making a very big decision. Like right now, oh man, I should totally be thinking about it and making those lame-o lists of pros and cons that all the tv shrinks tell you to make when you have to figure something out and I should maybe even be on the phone with some trusted advisor hashing it through and ending the conversation with “thanks, I always feel better after talking with you.”

But nope. I’m journaling instead.

Let’s hear it for having something else to do! Thanks internet! Maybe I’ll even get high later! That’s SUPER productive!

The highlight of my day today was being flirted with by J. It’s the perfect kind of flirting – all brainy and well written. He’s a master wordsmith and can take a sentiment as simple and sweet as “you’re a cool girl” and make it into a 50 foot high flashing neon sign propped up on a hill in the busy part of town. He’d be dangerous if he lived here.

The other day I was asked the sweetest question I think I’ve ever been asked and it was by a 4 year old boy with perfect little kid teeth and curly brown hair. I wrote it up all fancy like:

I babysit two days a week. I carry an army green Modest Mouse tote bag decorated with tree branches and hummingbirds. I sing along to any song I know the words to, usually off key. I can invent a naptime story on the fly. I like to make up songs about room cleaning, booger sandwiches, eating the last bite of lunch and not waking up little sisters. However, I am no Mary Poppins. But Sam today, after watching that movie over the weekend, asked me in earnest if I could fly. And why I had never shown him.

Awwww.


There is a dead squirrel in the yard. It’s been there for over a week easy. Initially it was fun to joke about running him frantically up to the vet yelling about how he hasn’t touched his peanuts in DAYS. Or how it was my one and hopefully only opportunity to get that upright squirrel in a 1950s apron holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies for my mantle via the fine art of taxidermy. Now he’s more like a 3D rug. All skinny with nothing left inside him. He’s been rained on, too. I have to think that helped move his decomposing along. I keep writing a haiku about it in my head, but don’t get anywhere with it. Something about how squirrels aren’t so cute once they’ve been dead for a week or so – and that’s a lot of syllables so it makes for a tricky haiku.

This is my most rambling journal entry EVER. Maybe I’ll win a prize!

Tomorrow the ad is in City Pages for my more public less personal journal. Yikes! It’s weird to think that other people, TOTAL STRANGERS, are going to read that. Yet, I want them to read it. Writing is an odd art. So intensely personal and often times clearly communicated. It’s unlike music or art where there is usually more sway in the interpretation. But I guess it’s like them all the same, too. Language is just as vague as colors and notes. It’s also like music or art in that it wants an audience. Writing away for years on end without another set of eyes gleaming meaning from your scribbles seems lonely. I want to be read just like a band wants to play live. The band gets to have more fun though.

SO if you want to pop in and see if I'm getting flogged or adored - the address is http://sugarsticky-girl.blogspot.com. It's pretty much this journal without all the angst. Enjoy!