First steps

Since I made the decision to do something with the tangle atop my head, I’ve gotten rather antsy and impatient about doing it. It’s needs to be gone already. The color shampoo and special conditioner and having to condition every single freakin’ day and the four different styling products and the 15 minutes wasted every morning need to be gone. I need high style with low maintenance. I’m not asking for much, right?

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Moving forward

I am experiencing a love/hate relationship with my body right now. Which is nothing new, really, but it’s pushed to the front burner for several different reasons.

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Irony? Foreshadowing?

There’s a business in Dwight, Illinois, that makes headstones for graves. It’s called Grieff’s Monuments. It’s like the dentist named Dr. Payne and the urologist Dr. Head. Just strikes me as funny is all.

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No grape for me


Purple is, and always has been, my least-favorite candy flavor. Yes, I call purple a flavor because I refuse to call it grape. Purple never, ever tastes like grape. Not in Sprees, SweetTarts, Smarties or Skittles. No DumDums or Jujubees or Lifesavers or Starburst. They all have purple, and none of them taste anything like grapes. Did Willy Wonka decide back in the day that because something was purple (or grape-colored) that it should just be called grape? And then all the other sugar-pushing pimp daddies agreed?

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The paper monkey on my back

How does one maintain regular creativity? And isn’t that oxymoronic? You shouldn’t schedule creativity. Creativity, by it’s very nature, is spur-of-the-moment, unrehearsed, spontaneous. Isn’t it?

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