am i supposed to pretend that whitney's still got it?
am i not allowed to say that she looks a mess?
am i not allowed to point out that she sounds like
she is smuggling gravel in her throat?
oh. i didn't get that memo.
she can't blame this on bobby.
one.hundred.fifty.eight
am i not allowed to say that she looks a mess?
am i not allowed to point out that she sounds like
oh. i didn't get that memo.
one.hundred.fifty.seven
as the years pass, and everything continues to change, i am becoming more opposed to defining my life in terms of what i do. i have been many things in my 28 years [cashier, receptionist, administrator, management information assistant, service development officer, manager, publicist, journalist...], and i have wanted to be many more things.
that's life. it moves, it breathes, things are born and they die, be they professions or dreams. and so this question, "what do you do?", is outdated to me. it doesn't necessarily tell us anything about someone that points to who they are, or who they will be in the future. i know that i'm a writer, and that i'd like to be able to feed myself from my talent, but when i'm asked what i want to do with my life i don't see myself in front of a computer, or with pen and pad in hand. i see myself in the sunshine, running on a beach, laughing with friends, and lots of other hedonistic things.
i'm know i'm over-thinking this. i know that when people ask "what do you do?" they are not asking you to sum up your existence for all eternity, but still, the romantic in me wishes the only valid answer to this question was "live."
one.hundred.fifty.six
you know a song is special when you've had it in your itunes for two weeks and it is already #10 on your most played list.
allow me to share it with you. eternal thanks to the friend who shared it with me.
one.hundred.fifty.four
you know what's worse than not having a valentine? having an unwanted valentine.
you know what's worse than having an unwanted valentine? having more than one unwanted valentine.
yeah.
*insert violin playing here*
one.hundred.fifty.three
this is very random, and most likely immature,
but these smileys really make me lol.
^ do it with him for maximum effect.
^ it's a banana!
and i think this is officially known as the paula-abdul-american-idol clap.
one.hundred.fifty.one
© www.nataliedee.com
there's a saying that goes something like: "show me your friends and i'll tell you who you are."
if that saying is true then i must be quite wonderful. i have some amazing friends, wonderful, fantastic friends. the best part is that they are friends that know how very flawed i am. friends that ask "how are you?" and get the reply "i feel like shit." i do not have any friends with whom i am politely perfect. so understand that when i say i have great friends i mean i have at least ten people in my life with whom i can be 'naked'. who love me when i'm not so loveable. whose kindness makes me feel somewhat guilty and wholly overwhelmed.
there are times when i don't feel like god's fortune is smiling on me. i had one of those moments today. but as i sat there and thought about all the people i could call, and all the shoulders i could lean on, i had to accept that i am constantly surrounded by a divine energy [no boho].
i guess this is one of those posts that doesn't do much for the reader; but i wanted to record this thought and this feeling, if only for myself in those not so blissful moments.
---
"What is a Friend? I’ll tell you. It is a person with whom you dare to be yourself. Your soul can go naked with him. He seems to ask you to put on nothing, only to be what you really are.
When you are with him, you do not have to be on your guard. You can say what you think, so long as it is genuinely you.
He understands those contradictions in your nature that cause others to misjudge you. With him you breathe freely – you can avow your little vanities and envies and absurdities, and in opening them up to him they are dissolved on the white ocean of his loyalty.
He understands. – You can weep with him, laugh with him, pray with him – through and underneath it all he sees, knows and loves you."
- Anonymous
one.hundred.fifty
i'm always so humbled when anyone sends me a message or e-mail full of positive energy. i have my moments where i feel like i'm the shit [as we all should], but if anybody ever tells me that they feel i'm good at what i do then it knocks the silence into my mouth at once.
so imagine how speechless and unworthy i felt this morning when i received this link from the lovely rebekah, telling me that i am the first person to feature in her 'isn't she fly' series on her blog. and as if being featured wasn't enough, she wrote these words about me:
"...She was definitely one of the first bloggers that inspired me to create my own...I was moving which caused me to lose most of my pens and throw away most of my paper. I stopped writing for such a long time where I didn't have much inspiration. I lost the drive, based on change of location I pretty much forgot about writing. I was focused on so many other things I could care less about writing anything down. But when I discovered Femi's blog I was in awe with everything she had to say, I fell in love with her words and anything that had to do with her thoughts..."
as a writer who writes just to save my own life, i am truly honoured that my words would encourage someone to pick up a pen. rebekah, you have made my day. sending big love your way :)
rebekah
one.hundred.forty.nine
they say ignorance is bliss; i say there's a lot of truth in that.
real ignorance is a lack of knowledge and information. it's not knowing, and not knowing that you don't know. it's the freedom to do wrong, be wrong and love wrong, without knowing that you are doing so.
when you gain knowledge and do what you did before you knew, that is not ignorance, that is stupidity.
this blog is sponsored by my disappointment. by my gaining knowledge about people i respected, and knowing that it would be foolish to continue to do so. this blog is sponsored by my loss of ignorance, and my secretly wishing i was stupid.
but i'm not.
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