Yet another random...

I'm so sick of wanting to write, but feeling like I have nothing to say. I have a million things running through my mind, but when I get to this point, it's like nothing seems worthwhile to talk about. I feel like anymore I always write that I have nothing to write about--but I end up saying something or another on the in between. So hmmmm, where shall I begin.

I feel more brazen lately. I am getting better about actually saying what's on my mind. I'm not 100% yet. I still like to rely on an adult beverage (or 10) to get me to the "strong" point where I don't feel nervous about talking about stuff. But I'm getting there. And it's silly, because it's not like I should be nervous or feel apprehensive, especially when I'm talking to the people closest to me, but I still get that way.

I think, no wait, I know my problem is that I think too much, and in thinking too much, I over-think everything and try to re-think through everything, just to be sure I'm not coming across "wrong" or bitchy or something. I don't like talking to someone, only to have regrets later on that the point I was trying to make isn't the point that came across. I hope that makes sense.

I've been having crazy dreams as of lately too. Just another side-effect of my mind being in over-drive ALL the damn time. Weird dreams too. Very realistic, but stranger than fiction. Such is my life I guess.

Ok, that's all I have for now. The End.

Early a.m. rant

***Forewarning: PMS'ing like a mo-fo. This blog may contain belligerent or crazy ramblings that will end up amounting to nothing more than an incomplete thought, leaving readers in a state of confusion...You have been warned***

So I'm feeling very vanilla tonight. Well, not only tonight, but for the past week or so. I think I need a new piercing or hair color or tattoo...Something drastic, because I feel so tame. I don't like it. I like not being crazy, too over-the-top'ish, but I feel so blech. I asked Yo if he thought I am a fun person, he said yes, "a blast," I just wish I could feel that way.

Anymore, I feel as though I am too responsible. Too grown up for my own liking. I want to go out and have a grand ole time! I sometimes want to awaken the chica of the past, not the person whom I was, because she wasn't good at all, but the deep-felt, soul-driven ambitiously outgoing chic, because then maybe I wouldn't feel as icky.

I just, I dunno, feel old. I don't buy nice things for myself, because I have others I would rather buy or do stuff for. I can't just go out and drop dinero on stuff for myself, because when I do, I end up returning it--with excuses as to why I don't need it or like it. It sucks. I'm not trying to come off as a martyr for the cause or a too good, do-gooder person, but I feel like when I write like this, that is what I sound like. I also hate it because I feel as though I censor myself because I don't know if I actually want what goes through my head to go out into the world. The shit in there is scary/weird/odd/whatever, enough to me, why would I want it escaping into the ether?!

Maybe I'm jealous. Maybe that's what it is. I look around and see what everyone else has or does, and I feel as though I can't compare. Like my favorite analogy, it's like on standing on the dock, waving to everyone as they float on by. I just stand there and go nowhere. "So fix it," I can hear people mumbling inside their heads. I wish I could. It's not like I can flip on a switch then WHAM, it's all good.

Maybe this did make more sense than I gave myself credit for. Maybe it didn't. Whatever the case is, at least I wrote out some stuff that was clogging the brain.