You're thinking.. two blog posts in one day, isn't that against the rules? Ya, it probably would be if this blog had rules. But it doesn't. I just write when I wanna write about what I wanna write when I wanna write it. And right now, I wanna write.
I went to the pharmacy to get my pills and while I was waiting for them to get it ready I naturally headed towards the magazine section (mindless occupation for ten minutes). Amid the promises of flat stomachs and the best summer dress for your figure or whatever else, was a little something special. Hidden in the second row from the back I see something that looks like it says, wait, yep, it definitely says "Cupcakes". Zing. Score. Boom boom pow. That's what I'm talking about. So I skim through the magainze and it's picture perfect cuteness on every page. Well, it was something crazy like $13.95 so I didn't buy it but the day is not over yet. It will probably be mine before nightfall.
And as I got in my car and kept thinking about a certain peanut butter chocolate cupcake that I would like to try garnishing with dark chocolate covered bacon, the stereo comes on and Wiz Khalifa is telling me that if I ever need him, he'll roll up. Promising.
But it gets me thinking.. the same girl that stands in the store aisle fantasizing about garnishes on cupcakes is the same one who plays hip hop in her little spacepod of a car because hip hop just makes sense to me.
For all of my life I never thought I looked god in a hat (the way my hair flared out from underneath perhaps?) but who is the proud owner of a newly acquired membership to http://www.lids.com/ ? This kid. I've never owned a ball cap in my life (not true... but I don't really have any fond memories) and in general anything near my forehead will make it itchy but for some reason I'm the giddiest girl in the world just thinking about my shipment of head gear arriving. Mind you, they are pretty cool hats.
I'm a full blooded Mennonite (who, for those of you who don't know, are not naturally rhythmically inclined what-so-ever... probably because dance-like movements were considered sexual and thus forbidden, or something like that) and love to dance like I love to breathe. And I'm not trying to brag but I go hard when I dance. No two-stepping. I'm breaking my back and throwing my neck out. Movement just frees me. I wish I lived in a city where I could attend a just-for-fun hip hop dance class. One day.. For now I'll just spend 45 minutes dancing in the bathroom instead of hopping in the shower. I will be one of the first cousins on both sides to have a dance floor at my wedding. It's a little bit unheard of. I can't imagine a day like that without one. Dancing = ultimate celebration.
I wrote a book, I love writing this blog, I love writing on peoples' Facebook walls. I love writing... but it pains me to keep a journal. I actually hate it enough that I don't do it. Every other writing outlet is fun but journaling is intimidating so it has become torturous. I would encourage every person on the planet to keep a journal because I know how important it is but I just can't bring myself to do it. Weird.
And those are just a few examples. I'm a walking contradiction. Aren't we all? Aren't we all bigger than the box that people-that WE-like to put ourselves in? Yeah, we are. Undefineable. And that's exciting. You can never totally figure yourself out. You'll never completely know the person you're in love with, there's always something more for you to figure out. There's always something you don't know about the girl that sits next to you in 19th Century Literature class. And we're all different. No combination is the same. It's like an endless Coldstone Creamery (dynamite ice cream shop). You think I'm a coffee ice cream with Snickers and pecans, and you'd be right.. but only partially. I'm a million flavours and then some, and so are you. And sometimes you might think that I'm an odd mix (mint chocolate ice cream with cookie dough maybe) but it's all relative. And it's all beautiful! You. are. so. beautiful. If you weren't aware of it before, you are now. And whne you know better, you do better. So start acting like you know that you're beautiful. (Don't get this confused with insecurity masked by conceited behaviour.. there's a big difference.)
Just in case you're keeping score, I definitely got that magazine (courtesy of my mom's generousity).
ReplyDelete