1st.

of 2010. make some writing practice. here goes.

i am trying to keep up with my brain. this is no easy task. i'd say get inside my head for a minute & you'd understand but it's best that you don't. so much to make of this brain. to make of this time, the new year. screw resolutions. i need to make commitments to myself. commitments to my own betterment. to growth. as i take a drag on a cig but what can a girl do. i am what i am. did i really just write that? (hey, editor, pipe down!) ok. fine. i am. but maybe maybe maybe growing into what's more, what's already there but somehow in hiding, masked by my own short-comings, my feverish brain, my feverish & frenetic personality & energy. try & keep up. try to keep going yet stop myself before i go to far. yet i never see too far until i'm already there. it's a curse. it's no joke that your greatest gifts are also your greatest faults. how to nurture one while overcoming its polarity? it's trite to say but this is writing practice so fuck judgment: i am a big, messy block of contradictions. blocking myself and what could make me good. what could make me great. as if another drag on that cig to my left could provide me with answers but at a minimum it provides an impetus to keep going (yes, i know the practice is about keeping your hands moving but they moved to the ciggie. what.).

fuck. a pause. ok. start again.

a pause to collect. my thoughts. myself. my. self. isn't that the goal moving forward? to collect the living fuck out of myself. check out my own personal personality collection, assess, readdress & deliver the goods? it's always been so daunting. so much work. & i work & work & work. at work. spare moments to work on me. sometimes it's... fuck a duck another pause this is killing me my loss for words. a loss for words in a brain that doesn't stop? doesn't make a lick of sense but yet in a way, another demonstration of my contradicted, conflicting make-up. hence, sense.

so where from this 1st. this writing down. this commitment. in writing.

forward.