Without wits

Whatever happened to intelligent life? Intelligent conversation? Why is everything laced with noxious, boring vomit?

Do people know where they are going when they leave their house and get into their metal death machines?  Rather, their plastic and fiberglass death machines. 

Amputation

I wonder how many amputated limbs actually make it to the incinerator?

I bet there are fields full of the bones. 

soft core what?

I think a good way to make a few bucks would be to host a soft core porn website where the only videos posted are of broads trying to put fitted sheets on their beds. It harkens back to the days of.................well, who am I kidding, the days of Olympic gymnastics never leave a dudes interests. Do they? All of those hours of coverage in the 80's and all of those homes and apartments teeming with ladies struggling for clean sleeping quarters.

Let that sink in for a few. 

You agree with me, don't you.

Nod your head with me.


Of course, I came up with this idea while making my bed this evening. I'm pretty sick of getting up when it's still dark to go to work for someone else and the feeling has been shrouding me in its ghostly crosshatches of linen for weeks. So much so that I can't see through it any longer. My vision, for the moment, is marred by the blanket of wanting to set my own hours and answer to no one but myself.  I can hardly imagine a life that is office drama free.  A little slice of somewhere else that's just out of reach.

morphing along with myself

As you age, you become more comfortable with yourself and your surroundings. I suppose I have finally settled in with the fact that I am on this planet and I have to stay here until it's over. I have had a problem with being here since I was born.
As the risk of sounding cliche, I've just never felt comfortable here. I've never felt like I belong here. I'm not crazy over it, it's just a part of me.
Accepting it is half the battle I have with myself.
The child and the adult must work together to reap some benefits here.

So now the blog is titled "scarysue" because in fact, I am scary.
boooooooooooooooooooooooo


Or rather I have scary thoughts. Scary=non-formulary.
Whatever.



84 days until Halloween and I have nothing sorted.

Where the mind goes

The body doesn't always follow. 

I guess I'm draw/writing again. 

Animals

Random dog photo. She is such a clown. 

I've finally found purple. My hair is growing out from my "I want Pink's hair but got shaved and skewered" haircut and back into my "I've had long hair my entire life" style. I guess if you have beautiful naturally curly hair, you should thank your stars and leave it alone. 

I can't help my impulsitivity sometimes. I can now say I've had my head shaved and have sported a pixie cut for a time. Now it's just unkempt and wild. It's kinking in odd places, getting knotty, (that's how I knew it was growing, did NOT miss knots) and overall is just angry at itself. 

I have a feeling this purple will get darker and cover my entire head. I am so in love, more so than I have been with my infamous shades of red. 

Oh, and who still gets pimples at this age? Once you break free of your teenage reign of this nonsense you should be rid of them forever. 

overworked and static

Right after Christmas I got sick.  Sinuses. Then I got sick again. Then I started working too many hours on too many things and thus, crickets can be heard here.

Poor, poor blog. 


All I can think about is going to the beach. Point Pleasant, NJ to be exact. I've been frequenting that spot over the last 4 years and it began as one day trip with the beau on a very chilly March day, in search of specimens. It seems eons ago that we first met and thus began our ritual of beachgoing, although one year our plans were thwarted by an evil hurricane. 


My mind is filled with projects and trips that I can't yet put into action. You see, I have a list.  Prioritizing is one tool I learned early on to keep my excited mind from losing track of everything. Notebooks are a necessity, although I pity the poor soul who has to go through it all after I've passed from old age.



First thing is first.  The truck needs an oil change.  So mundane..........pfffftttt!


I'd rather be painting.