I want to write a book. I started it tonight. I have NO idea what it's going to be about, but from what I have heard/read about other writers, they had no idea where their story was going either. My book won't be a novel. It won't be anything special or astonishing, but I will love it because it will be MINE. Even if it ends up being just a short story instead of a book. It won't matter to me. I've have a TON of people tell me that I should publish my poetry. And that would be great, however..... I write for myself. And the poems that I write are symbolic and only make sense to me. And with my song lyrics? They are okay. Some are actually really good. But I can't see myself "selling" my lyrics to some studio so that somebody like Britney Spears, or whoever, can make millions off of them. Not that I'm saying what I have written as far as lyrics would ever be good enough to get to celebrity status. Not at all.
Let me just be clear here: I write poems, song lyrics, and am starting a book. I love my own writing and am proud of everything that I've ever written, because it's ME. Not because I'm this super amazing writer or anything. Some of my stuff is good, a lot of it isn't. But it's ALL good to me because I have written it all for myself.
Anyways.... honesty. Welcome to my real world, ladies and gents:
-Every now and then I'll throw my MP3 player and headphones on and dance like a crazy person in the house, and sing out loud outside. Either way, I will crazily dance, even if I'm going to the bathroom. Too much info, sorry.... but still true.
-I love pickles, but only the insides. I chew off all the good inside-ness and throw away the skins. Kinda gross, but it's my reality.
-I talk to Sunni and Mindy (our dogs) like they are actual people sometimes. Not the high-pitched dog voice, but a real voice. I tell them my problems. And then they lick my hand.
-I sleep on the couch a lot. NOT when Michael is here. Because I love sleeping in bed with him. But when I'm by myself at night, I sleep on the couch most of the time. And I have no idea why I do that. Maybe because sleeping in bed alone makes me miss Michael when he is working? I don't know. I just know that I sleep on the couch a lot.
-Netflix is pretty much my favorite thing in the entire world. Other than Amazon.com and Wetseal.com. So I guess that means that Netflix, Amazon.com, and Wetseal.com are my favorite things. As far as websites. Because I love certain people and experiences more than those websites, obviously.
-I want people to like me. I try to accept and adapt to other peoples' personalities so that I can get along with them and be accepted by them. Most of Michael's Utah friends didn't like me. And I never understood why. Now I do. And now I have met some of Michael's new friends, and they love me. And I get it. (That's a bit cryptic, I know. But apparently my blog is read by certain people that I would prefer to NOT read it, so I have to be cryptic to not say too much.)
-I need a blanket over me. Even when it's hot. It's like a comforting hug to me. So even if it's just the most thin sheet possible, I need it.
-I love horror movies and chick flicks. Um..... isn't that an extreme genre adoration? Yes, yes it is. But also, it is the truth. Those are the movies that I love.
-The last time my entire family was together was at my wedding. And I really really really want to see my mom, step-dad, brothers, dad, step-mom, sisters, and myself in one place again and take a big picture. I know it would be wierd, but it would make me really happy.
-Michael making me coffee every morning that he's home is better than getting roses. It's true. It's the small sweetness that it important.
-I crave meat. Which actually angers me. I LOVE me a good salad. More than most. I don't eat healthy intentionally, it just happens that I love salad and fruit and veggies. But sometimes I crave meat. I don't get angry about me craving meat. I'm okay with that. What angers me is that we don't have much meat in our house. So when I crave meat, it's just not satisfied. Hot dogs just don't cut it when wanting a good steak.
-Since Michael and I aren't married and have our individual bills/accounts/responsibilities, when it comes to something that I really want, I NEED to spend the money on it. It makes it mine. Not that we are going to have to worry about splitting up our things since we are doing AMAZING, it's just that I need to pay my own way. Hell, I lived by myself for 5 years, so it's just natural for me to buy things that I want when I can.
-I absolutely LOVE the smell of my baby girl Sunni. She has this scent that is only her, and I love it. It's on the top of her head. If I sniff the top of her head, it makes me happy. Like the scent of the parking garage at our old Park City condo, and the smell of our Bear Lake cabin.
-My mom adores Michael. And that makes me happy because I care about her opinion. I don't NEED her approval, but the glowing approval I received makes me extremely happy. On the same note, my dad adores Michael, too. And Michael's mom and step-dad Zac adore me. So it's good to go with las familias!
-I am agnostic. Which means I have no believe or disbelief in much of anything. Which leaves me with nothing but questions. And that scares me.
-We have a ghost in our house. But she loves us because we take care of her house. She is sweet and protective. She keeps the spiders and most of the bugs outside, and we respect her house and keep it clean. It's a win-win situation.
-I recently found out that Michael speaks VERY well of me to his work friends. Considering that he doesn't speak his mind much, I was so extremely flattered to hear from a friend of Michael's that Michael speaks so highly of me. WOW. That's awesome! I love that boy.
-I really wish that more musicals were made. Modern musicals. I love musicals, even the older ones. And the cartoon ones. Confession: "The Little Mermaid" is my favorite Disney movie EVER. Though my favorite musical of all time (so far- and people that know me are already aware of this) is Rent. I LOVE RENT.
-Last part of honesty- it's time for bed. True.