GET CRUNCHY

Wah-wah-wah.

How fuckin' moody I've been.

Ethereal lingering prose-y writing and this and that. Sentences that go on forever, odes to adjectives and images. I can barely read my own material without wanting to punch myself in my own sniffling face. God, have I ever written so many back to back pieces in the 2nd person with "you" as my favorite pronoun in the world?

Here's the deal. I'm going through a breakup. An icky, sad, disgusting, smushy breakup. The end of every great love affair is like this. Your body turns itself inside out. You sob in the shower (that's my favorite place to sob! It's like crying in a waterfall! Ask your travel agent for more info!) You get a cold for two weeks. You sleep. And sleep. And then you sleep some more. Heyyyyyyy, STOP IT, 2nd person voice. Let's take this back to 1st person.

I'm so tired of saying 'youyouyouyouyou.'

How about ME ME ME ME ME.

I'm tired of feeling icky and smushy. I hate this version of me! This version of me stinks. This version of me is fricking falling apart, not just over the breakup, but over everything else life has handed me at the same time. The human body can only take it for so long. Someone once told me that the body won't let itself stay raw for very long. Its not its natural state, it doesn't like to feel that way. And for good reason--who wants to walk around feeling like an exposed boo-boo? Not this girl!

Where's that band-aid?!

Agh, but there's the little stinker. [Please note use of 2nd person is coming back to be utilized for general knowledge as in a 'How-To-Guide'] You can't just slap a band-aid on it. (Or a ring for that matter. Zing! Ouch. Jokes. Yes. What?) You have to let your wound heal on its own time. And some wounds take time. And some are deeper than others. And some wounds re-open. Wounds must fester and ooze like the strawberry Gushers of our childhood youth and then sloooooooowwwwwwwwly start to scab over and get crunchy and THEN you must wait for the little bits of scab to fall off on their own. Cuz if you pick at it, ITS OVER! My guarantee: you start picking your scab off too soon, you'd best be starting that whole effing ooze/fester process all over again. (Why did I just say 'effing' when i said 'fuckin'' above? F that shit! Let's swear!)

Well, fuck.

Hmmmm.

So now that I've finally said, "Here boo-boo, face the world WITHOUT a band-aid!" I have to do just that.  Be exposed and start getting crunchy.

And it is a long crunchy road.

Or at least it CAN be, I been there before, Mama!

Didn't want to walk that road, again, but whatccha gonna do.

Hail a cab? Nope. Cabs don't come to this part of town, stranger. (Cue dueling sundown music between two cowboys.)

Find a prince on a horse to ride me back home? (Hmmm, when I word it like that, that doesn't sound half so bad! ...) But, NOOOO. No. BITCH, don't be rebounding on princes. (Or wait, WHY NOT? Then I'd get to drink tea with the Mum and be besties with Kate Middleton...unless the prince on the horse was William and then I'd have be all, OH NO YOU DIDN'T, WILL!)

Right....so, what? Click my heels three times and wish I was back in Kansas? Oh, Dorothy. You simple-minded twit.

WHY DIDN'T WE ALL JUST DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE INSTEAD OF SKIPPING ALONG YOUR DUMB GOLDEN HIGHWAY TO A PILE OF MELTED WITCH AND MONKEYS?

Dorothy, you led me to a pile of melted witch and monkey brains.

Ugh.

But it's okay! Just like Dorothy, I've got to travel my own yellow-brick road and grab a motley crew of friends suffering from various emotional and personal issues like fear of confrontation, illiteracy, and the inability to love.....and THEN we'll all be transformed at the end of the journey!

Right?

Right.

Let's add into the mixture of monkey brains and melted witch the fact that I'm also dealing with career stresses, artistic woes, my own health issues, parents' MAJOR health issues (yes that merits all caps), and there are now plenty of outside forces making the breakup boo-boo a little tougher to heal--which deserves credence of its own-- it will never heal properly if I don't acknowledge that it is a legitimate wound of its own. It's just that all of these outside forces COMBINED with this oozey breakup wound are making for one sore body, one with unfortunately LOTS of wounds that all are festering and oozing at the same time. It's like life just handed me an awesome car crash on a plate and said, "Dig in!"

Well, I'm gonna be an awfully crunchy lady for awhile, but hopefully I will reach the end of this road (along with my dumb friends who can't love or fight!) with some thicker skin and a bit more insight as to what exactly is at the end of the path.  I'm not saying I won't trip when I try to do that really cool skipping move like they do in the movie (I never said I was coordinated) and fall on my face and rip the scabs open and have to start all over. But sometimes that happens with scabs and wounds. They re-open and we try to close them again.

Hell, I might look kinda gross for awhile.

But all people in battle do.

Yep, Dorothy was totally a battling warrior.

And I gotta be right now too.

So I'm ready.

Time to GET CRUNCHY.