Phillip how I love you.

This is one from July oflast year that explains.....well it explains me.


I am sitting here drinking coffee thinking about things. This week has been rough due to the fact that my husband, myself, and our friends felt the compulsive need to party like teenagers all week. I am pretty sure my beer consumption rate has risen at least 75% since last weekend. The result from reliving these follies of yesteryear is me waking up feeling like warmed shit. I know I am not the only one either. Let me tell you what, after all that drinking my husband is certainly not a fresh daisy in the morning. I try to talk to him in a groggy half awake sort of way, and I can't even get a grunt of recognition that he even understands the English language. Let's just say I think we all may need to act like adults, and drink socially. Not like we get paid to do it. Or at least not all the time.
I have also been thinking about making some changes in my life. I enjoy reading, and I love doing the whole rant my ass off journal thing. But maybe, just maybe I am ready to take the leap. I have been tossing some ideas around in my head, and I think I need to write a book. I am not even sure if I can do it but something inside (Phillip) (for an account of Phillip refer to the entry titled Another instance of how my brain functions) I have been saying for quite some time now I want to pull on my big girl pants, and write a book. I think I might subconsciously block my creativity so I can't fail. Failure is quite unacceptable for me. I am totally okay when other people experience failure, but I am just not down with it for myself. I wanna be like a large breasted version of Chuck Norris. That is if Chuck Norris channeled his as kicking skills into writing paranormal teen lit. Great.....now I have this vision of Chuck Norris' face on the body of a female Russian body builder scribbling furiously with a pencil, at a very small desk by the light of a very small green lamp with a pull string. It is a pretty intense vision. Be glad your brain monkey does not work overtime like mine. This is what happens when I open up the tap to my mind. It has this way of making seem like I am the mad hatter or something. So before I think up a theme song for the Helga version of Chuck Norris I am going to put a cork in the thinker.

P,S- if you have any ideas for some writing exercises please let me know. I would like to write independently without the help of Phillip. AT least that way it may make some kind of sense.