Confidence, confidence, confidence, that is the key. I had it somewhere, I remember feeling it in my fingers. It has a specific texture and a certain smell. I mean, I had it just a second ago, but where did it go? I can’t seem to find it anywhere.
It’s like the favorite sweater. I want to wear it, it matches my favorite jewelry and goes with my best purse. I swear I folded it, and put it in the drawer. But isn’t not there! Where did it go?
Seriously like never. For example: I flew to India from Chicago and back, and got delayed by 6 hours on the way there. I was on an airplane for 47 hours total for the trip. I managed to watch 1 movie and 1 stand up comedy act (The Grand Budapest Hotel and Hannibal Burgess) over the grueling 47 hour journey. That is how dedicated I am to avoiding movies.
I don’t have the patience. I get too bored.
Most of the time is it too unbelievable. Seriously though, get a grip and make your story line mildly believable. Or else I will be drunk, and miss the plot line because I have to pee so often.
Why does there always have to be a love story? Always. Seriously I will like a movie more even if it sucks royally if there is no fucking fairy tale fall in love non imaginatation story arch. But all shitty movies, even the few good one, have a love story. A Hollywood Perfect Woman with great boobs falls for a maybe? hot man. He will NEVER take his shirt off. I have seen one male butt in Hollywood. I love boobs like everyone else but I also love the male nipples. Why you gotta hold out Hollywood? Why you got to be so cold?
Everybody has to be good looking all the time.. nobody can be just like normal. God forbid undesirable. Ugly is a thing that is left for villains, that’s it. It is so unrealistic I can’t do it. Unless it is complete fantasy like aliens, that’s fine.
I don’t watch TV. Its kinda boring is the thing. I have hardly ever watched it in my life. Sometimes I do, and when I do it is a splurge. The overly dramatic but not too loud or too soft spoken scenario is a grand way to relax after strenuous work week. To tune out by tuning in.
Other than the over-worked periods of my life, or to rebel against myself being defying my own rules, I don’t ever seek out the television as a constant companion.
What I don’t understand about television is the ads. They are the worst. Commercials are beyond annoying, they are frustrating with their simplicity and complacency. They talk to you like you are a child, like you are an idiot, like you can be convinced of anything. When you watch advertisements that are so very short and so very full of the most eloquently packaged bullshit you have ever conceptualized, you still know that those naysayers are trying to trick you. You know that the footsteps are the fanciful jig of the devil.
We do outsmart the ads, but what I don’t think we realize is that after a while the ads outnumb us. We forget that after watching so many terribly unbelieving scenarios, our threshold of believability eventually drops. We don’t ever buy the dumbest things, but we start to be persuaded by the ‘average to possible’ ideas. Just because its plausible does not mean it should be attained.
I haven’t watched TV in over 6 months, at least, and oh my are the commercials so bad. I can’t even do it. And I am not mad about it.
-Marigold
Seriously why do so many emails even exist? It’s not ok, not possible… why? It’s so much worse than junk mail. Worse than all those endless bills and reminders of bills that have now gone paperless. Worse than the stacks of bed, bath, and beyond coupons. Worse than flyers filled with pages of information about nothing.
Even with spam filter, my inbox is out of control like my curls on a humid day. Why do I have over 1000 emails? Its ridiculous. Stop. Sending. Them. It. Is. Not. Working. Not you, real people, I am talking to auto emails. Just stop. Nobody is reading them. Not today, not ever.
Try Mr. Postman again if you want to get a real message. The press and send button is not cutting any diamonds my friends.
-Marigold.
My heart is in my stomach, and my stomach is in my mind. My mind is where the heart should be. Can you help me doc? I don’t have any money (I have heard of it, never seen it though). But I will pay you in mini cakes, any flavor you want. They will be superb, for certain, I will just follow my stomach.
Get up, go to work, iron out the day. It is hard to start the rolling motion, but once you find a small hill of inspiration, it’s clear sailing, smooth somersaults. Once you get over the lull of the nighttime dream, once you break the sandman’s spell, the daylight is not so harsh.
This is why I don’t understand those people out there who don’t drink coffee. What’s the buzz to your alarm clock? Where is the wind in your espresso flight? What is the deep roasted root to your bitterness?
Shake shake shake off the chains of the heavy dreams, and lighten your daylight with a fresh cup.
Basically I am trying hard to not think too far ahead. It’s not that I don’t have a plan, well it’s more like a scheme. A loose draft, if you will. But the details, the accents, the exact colors, I am not sure.
Basically I am making the rest up as I trod along my flowered path. I plant a seed and watch it grow up. Sometimes is it an orchid, sometimes it is crabgrass.
You make your own choices. You draw the outlines, document the blueprints. The coloring comes with the wind, the fluidity travels in the motion of today.
I am so used to being heartbroken,
That I am like,
It’s just another day.
Cake Anyone?
Our intrepid traveler is combing the dark path with wide-spread fingers. Eager palms are curiously searching for a grasp. The outstretched hands are jazz with excitement, electric with hope of discovery.
Our nervous explorer boldly rips the sheer fabric of the laced cobweb, exposing the bright twinkle of the warm stars. The sticky cobwebs are sewn in between the animated fingers, down around the wrist. This burdensome situation does not affect the opal view of the silky milky way, and the blinking binary blanket above.
marigolds forever 