The are, in the order I "met" them, J, from "Too Many Fish to Fry.", C from "As Good As It Gets", and Justine from "A Half Baked Life", to which I say, show me one that ain't half baked. That's rather my point. All of these women are open enough to share the "beautiful mess" of their lives with anyone willing to seek in their direction.. A few evenings ago, J, and I sat in a rather grown up place talking about what lead us to start and continue to blog. I'll let her tell you they why of her story, but mine was about accountability and truth.
I live in what is probably one of the least grounded places on the planet but I refuse to play the game, mostly because I can't. I'm not "cute enough", "thin enough", "rich enough", "young enough", "famous enough"...what are you selling? I'm not "that enough." Largely by choice.. These women, and the fifteen bloggers to whom I've passed along the award (Pt.2), are what help me remember that that particular game is impossibly rigged and that no one should ever play it. The game I will play, now in fact, is the game of "Seven Things You May not Know."
- I have had my arm inside a cow up to my shoulder joint. They make gloves for that sort of thing, and though they are long enough to do so, they are not gloves you would wear to the opera.
- I have been a motorcycle chick in leathers to Flynn's biker dude, in August, through the San Fernando valley when the temperature was 120F. I then pushed the bike down a moving van ramp and broke it. For good, though not on purpose. I don't think
- I pierced my own ears with a needle and two ice cubes. The needle was sterilized. The ice was not, but I still have both lobes.
- My daughter is the woman I admire most.
- I am not bothered by the c* word, the n* word, the f* word or any other words because I do not believe they possess any power at all. Instead, I believe our spirits, our truest selves, are omnipotent, being made that way and thus we must be willing to go through the motion of giving words some of that all-power in order for them to hurt us. And for the record, I think "hurt" is a check engine/reality light blinking in your bones. You're perfect. Get it. Keep it.
- I am a hypochondriac who makes my internist laugh, but we're laughing together at my not exploding pancreas and my also not coronary artery disease, and my it's not a tumor. I stop myself just short of saying , "I'll be baahk." as I walk out of his office. It speaks to my momentary optimism. Go me. Go.
- I love a good fugue. This is a good fugue.
Tomorrow, the awards. There will be no red carpet, but I hope your stylist is up to the task...You do have a stylist don't you???