"I Think I'll Dye My Hair Blue"



“You're the kind of boring person doomed to be alone while trying to solve all the problems instead of hanging out with the cool people while assigning blame.”

No, I’m not actually dying my hair blue, though it wouldn’t be much of a stretch from the current old-broad-lavender tint I’m sporting. In my mediocre defense, it’s a direct result of concocting strange brews in my basement laboratory in an attempt to keep the ‘ol mop more of a shade of platinum than bimbo-gone-wrong-gold…. The title is a line from a song that’s been playing on repeat in my skull for the past few weeks. These looping soundtracks can normally be attributed to a mixture of bickering side effects of one kaleidoscopic pill or another, but this song actually hits pretty damn close to home.

Words are one of those intangibly phenomenal things that can mean so much…express so much… simply do so much.  They can strike me down in an instant, reducing me to a retreating pool of muck, then lift me up from the ashes and give me new hope the next. I rarely know how to exist from one day to another without that ability to feed off of and give back to others through language. There is not a material thing in the world that offers the same for someone such as myself. Even actions fall short when the words escaping one’s lips are indicative of the contrary. It can be an additionally odd struggle, then, when not only am I reclusive and withdrawn by nature, but have very limited contact or even interest, for that matter, from the outside world.

Those precious few I do let into my carnival tent have been committing the most atrocious of offenses lately. What better way to shut the rambling Vanilla Tornado up, than a one word response? Ahhh… even better! No response at all!

I wear my heart on my sleeve and so long to find someone, anyone, who won’t immediately be tempted to brush me under a rug with all those dastardly little dust bunnies. After all, they don’t make for very good conversation, even stoking that fire with spirits. The one trait I fear most of myself also happens to be the most solidified fact of them all. I’m simply too much. This all doesn’t stop me for longing for conversation…. for that delectably untouchable dynamic of back and forth.  Alas, I seem to fare better keeping the dialogue within. Perhaps if I had more going in that department, I’d be one of those “better to be seen than heard” types, no?” What are words for… when no one listens anymore?”

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Kitty

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

"I Think I'll Dye My Hair Blue"



“You're the kind of boring person doomed to be alone while trying to solve all the problems instead of hanging out with the cool people while assigning blame.”

No, I’m not actually dying my hair blue, though it wouldn’t be much of a stretch from the current old-broad-lavender tint I’m sporting. In my mediocre defense, it’s a direct result of concocting strange brews in my basement laboratory in an attempt to keep the ‘ol mop more of a shade of platinum than bimbo-gone-wrong-gold…. The title is a line from a song that’s been playing on repeat in my skull for the past few weeks. These looping soundtracks can normally be attributed to a mixture of bickering side effects of one kaleidoscopic pill or another, but this song actually hits pretty damn close to home.

Words are one of those intangibly phenomenal things that can mean so much…express so much… simply do so much.  They can strike me down in an instant, reducing me to a retreating pool of muck, then lift me up from the ashes and give me new hope the next. I rarely know how to exist from one day to another without that ability to feed off of and give back to others through language. There is not a material thing in the world that offers the same for someone such as myself. Even actions fall short when the words escaping one’s lips are indicative of the contrary. It can be an additionally odd struggle, then, when not only am I reclusive and withdrawn by nature, but have very limited contact or even interest, for that matter, from the outside world.

Those precious few I do let into my carnival tent have been committing the most atrocious of offenses lately. What better way to shut the rambling Vanilla Tornado up, than a one word response? Ahhh… even better! No response at all!

I wear my heart on my sleeve and so long to find someone, anyone, who won’t immediately be tempted to brush me under a rug with all those dastardly little dust bunnies. After all, they don’t make for very good conversation, even stoking that fire with spirits. The one trait I fear most of myself also happens to be the most solidified fact of them all. I’m simply too much. This all doesn’t stop me for longing for conversation…. for that delectably untouchable dynamic of back and forth.  Alas, I seem to fare better keeping the dialogue within. Perhaps if I had more going in that department, I’d be one of those “better to be seen than heard” types, no?” What are words for… when no one listens anymore?”

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Post a Comment