Hello Listeners.
I know it's been a while since I've last made an entry, but in all honesty, I really wasn't sure what to write about. Hey, Julie Powell's already blogged about cooking through Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
Then it hit me.
I'm a writer, and I love when people read my stories.
Yes, this will do.
Now, here is why I decided to make an entry tonight.
I saw a picture of a person I know. For privacy's sake, I'm not going to tell you what they were doing (it was legal, trust me). When I saw it, though, it hurt. It hurt more than I thought it would. I actually didn't think it was going to hurt at all. It felt like a punch in the stomach...with a dagger...that twisted...
It hurt like high school.
It was then I decided to not seek out my friends' help. It isn't that I don't love them, because I really do. But I don't think a pat on the head was going to fix this one.
I decided to write it out and put on uplifting music. In situations like this, it's very easy to mope and cry and get incredibly depressed. But...not only do I not have the time for that, I can't let this break me because, for the most part, the end really isn't the end.
So, if you are reading this, and you're experiencing something that hurts like...getting roundhouse kicked in the face with a golf shoe, you aren't alone. Go to the Philbrook Museum. Visit the Dragonmoon Tea Company and have some Chocolate Croissant Bread Pudding. That's the best salve in my medicine bag I have. Here's some bread pudding on me.
I guess my reactions to things can hurt me. It's my choice to either add salve, let it fester and get infected, or pick away at the scab.
Keeping the Faith and Keeping it Real,
aM
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