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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Naptime
I have had the shittiest day, for absolutely no reason. It has seriously been a melt down kind of day. I had to stop myself from going out and buying a pack of smokes. (I don't know if I mentioned that I quit smoking about a month and a half ago, but I did, and now all I do is listen while The Brain tries to convince me that we should start smoking again because, of course, it is the only reasonable alternative to, say, killing other people.) And the reasonable alternative to smoking? Suicide. Those are the choices that The Brain offers up when I'm having a melt down kind of day, so you know that I don't trust The Brain too much when it comes to important things, things like what kind of toilet paper to buy. And that is because The Brain is somewhat remote from the ass and is convinced that saving money on things like one-ply is a good thing. Which it is not. It's not. You can't convince me that an extra dollar saved on one-ply is worth it--well, you can't anymore that is, because I just used Max's two-ply and never again shall the papery badness of one-ply connect with my delicate ass. I quit smoking, people. That's what's wrong. Only it was a month ago and I should be all over it by now. All those extra pounds should be gone. The tendency to run for a smoke or food when life sends the stress should have been worked through, right? Riiight. So I went to yoga last night. (This is the most disjointed entry ever I think. See also: Quit smoking/melt down/one-ply). And I cried because I thought I might hurt my shoulder. That's what kind of pissant (piss-ant? pisant? Pizant?) baby I am. I'm a baby baby baby. A baby with a headache. I need a nap.
More lies:
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