typing talk

Sweetheart sweet sweet heart. I do hope that today was your day and every following day is your day. I can say for a fact I am sure you fell in piss with grace! As for me, I would have plopped (head first) in the piss and given birth to a tantrum the size of a three year-old.

I’ve been getting cheekier and cheekier with customers – I have figured out the fact that I work for Mom&Pop – they ain’t gonna fire unless I do something real crazy like strip and streak. Which, I most definitely thought of – however, I think it is funnier in my mind than in real life. Anyways, this one lady finished her meal and went outside to the valet. She came back in and sat down in the lovely hand carved seating area. She looked at me and said, “I have to wait.” I smiled and said, “Ok.” She then said “If I have to wait for your valet that means your valet is not good.” I said, “I am sure they are doing their best.” She said “Well I don’t think their best is good enough, I have to wait.” I said, “Well you have the whole waiting space to yourself since you are the only one who has to wait.” Then – this is the thriller – for some odd odd odd reason I decided to give a creepy dead smile. It felt so awesome. I even creeped myself out. She looked at me and said “I think I can wait outside.” And I kept smiling.

Why thank you dear acting classes. I can now accomplish the creepster in a movie.

Sometimes I wonder about why we are alive. I keep thinking what is the ultimate point. I know, I know it is the journey. Yet, I can’t seem to comprehend it. I keep feeling and thinking like my life is leading up to something and I shall be ready for it! But, then I am like no you fool – your life is right now – the moment. Is it supposed to be that confusing. What I also wonder is why doesn’t anyone talk about this? Everyone seems to have accepted life and I understand why and their reasonings – but in the back of their mind, don’t they wonder why their life matters? You’re going to die anyways. I’m not depressed or anything – actually far from it – way on the other side contemplating the reason for life.

If you are going to die – why be so worried about life? I am a walking and talking hypocrite of all of this, but my hands have a mind of their own. It is like when I start writing they start speaking of all the moments in my head that never voiced out of my mouth. Oh lovely ten fingers – how I do love you and your minds!

I talk to myself a lot. And I mean a lot. I find some comfort in it. I don’t even care if it is crazy – it is fun. I do my monologues for myself. I have figured that if I can’t perform first for myself then I can’t truthfully perform for anyone else. The love of my performance must conceive within me.