It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood...

This coffee is pretty amazing. And by pretty I mean fucking (but only in this instance...maybe).

Here I am, again: swimsuit garb, longingly staring out the window at the sun and the sky - silently threatening each cloud that appears, hoping it will get my drift and disappear.

I'm like a child. I've been living in this bathing suit - my skin slightly burnt, freckles all visible - all week. This is how it was when I was a child, as a matter of fact. I couldn't stay away from the water.

But, I mean, honestly, who doesn't like to swim?

Anyway, I will finish my cups of delicious coffee, apply more sunscreen, and head out!

Time to forget about idiotic people and the ridiculous things they do. Let the sun blind me momentarily to their shenanigans. Let the water wash away the negative emotions before I explode and do something [more than just] I will regret.

I don't answer to anyone. Especially you.

Shoo.

Poolside fun: recreational memory loss

I have been poolside for the past 3-4 days. No where else. And it has been fabulous.

Except now. Now, that it's raining. I am sitting here, suited up, ready to soak up the sun and wasting sunscreen.

Guess I'm ready to get burnt again.

Wow, it seriously isn't going to end anytime soon either. I am disappoint.

Back to the basics: my muse ran away. Initially I thought she was only hiding so that I would go outside and enjoy summer, rather than go about my pasty white life as is; but now...I think I'm being punished. Punished for my lack of effort, for my laziness.

I stopped writing - all together. Unless you count countless tweets about the sun and the pool and music.

Maybe that's it; I needed a musical intermission. Maybe.

But, honestly? Some genius needs to invent mind to text like now. This is out of control. I need my thoughts to instantly transfer into a memoir before they're gone for good. I need to be able to be in the pool, swimming, while simultaneously writing the next best seller.

Word.

I had an ingenious idea for the beginning - or middle? - of a novel. I had it right before I fell asleep last night. I punched it lazily into my iPhone Notes app and passed out. Today, I remembered, by chance, that I had done that, read it, and smiled. It was still just as epic as it was when my sleepy brain thought it up.

This is good. This means no more looking at scraps of paper and trying to decipher what I actually meant to write, or wondering what the hell my Excedrin PM influenced self was thinking.

I'm not used to my afterthoughts making sense like that. It's kind of nice.

More later (probably not).

Cloudy skies, cloudy dreams

It's 3pm and the sky is chock full of clouds and random bouts of lightning. I had sunbathing and swimming plans - along with other such sunny tomfooleries.

And now what?

Now, I sit inside and watch Buffy while drinking coffee and fiddling with my iPhone. (Unemployment and the lack of finances kind of ruin "going out".)

I rue today.

Onto other things: I keep having two recurring dreams. Well, one is never really the same but I always have a dream where I am smoking. Recently, I dreamt my brother Brent came to visit for my birthday and his gift to me was a single cigarette because he knew I wanted to smoke. This is very unlike Brent. But, nevertheless, I sat at the bar and smoked that cigarette. And it was wonderful.

...okay, enough with the smoking dreams before I have an ever worse craving.

The other recurring dream involves this mystery man. Or boy. - Boy because I feel as if, in the dream, I am actually younger than I am in real life (as is he). - My mother is always in the dream, along with Punk, and she drives me a ways to see this boy. And, along the way, Punk always ends up in some sort of kitty shenanigans. But I always make it to see the boy. And it's a relief. Yet, usually, right after I get to him...I wake up. And I am left shifting, trying to become comfortable again, so that I can drift back away into that dream and find out more about my mystery boy.

I'm curious. And the dream felt good.

I'd like to go back to sleep, now.

Getting back on track...

Tonight I was reminded why I stopped jogging outside.

Mosquitos.

Humidity.

Nike+ is a piece of crap.

(Oh, yeah! And sheer laziness and procrastination!)

But it was worth it. - Despite the mugginess, insect bites, and the ruination of my progression data. - It was worth it. It feels so great to jog: the preparation, the act, the aftermath (in optimistic theory). I missed it. I need to get my shit together [again]. I was on a roll and then I hit a wall - some massive garbage heap of doubt, hopelessness, and lethargy. And, let me tell you, running face first into that makes you never want to go back.

But we pick ourselves up. And we try, try again.

So, I did; and it felt great! Now, my trial is doing the same thing tomorrow (after I call up Nike and give them a whatfor).

I wanna feel the sun on my face ALL year round!

I need to move. I need to move somewhere that I can wear sunglasses 24/7, - or, at least, 14/7 - go to the beach whenever I get the urge, and not be freezing and gloomy for part of the year.

The cold and the snow are overrated. I've dealt with those for too long. It's a waste of a good portion of my year.

I could totally drown winter in the ocean. Totally.

Who wants to deal with the winter blues?

Not this girl; not any more.