Who said "Actions Speak Louder Than Words"? I want to talk to that guy. It must be a guy... I am certain. I understand the purpose and point and practicality of such an expression, I understand how we must be accountable for our actions, and not confuse the honesty of what we do, with the ease of words that leave our mouths, oftentimes without much thought, or consideration. Perhaps I rely on the words too much, When my actions seem insufficient. When there isn't a chance to show or make actionable, I am one of words. The way they fall off the pages of a book, and make me cry, or laugh, or scan, rapidly, unable to read fast enough to satisfy my curiosity. The words that are in the songs, That I carefully digest and interpret, Perhaps erroneously. Though it is likely the case that, whatever my favorite songs are at any given moment give some indication of what is on my mind. The words that fall out of your mouth, oftentimes w...
I have been thinking of pancakes and eggs. I don't know why. But the craving hasn't subsided, though I cannot say it has intensified... it just remains... in appetite purgatory. I have craved this pairing a few days now. And I am not a pancakes kind of gal, so I am a bit befuddled by it creeping into my psyche, every day, throughout the day. I wouldn't call it torture or taunting, I would call it unfinished business. And today I couldn't help but wonder whether it was the pancakes and eggs I wanted, or whether what I wanted was the idea of a long, leisurely breakfast with someone. And as I sit here, at midnight, unable to sleep before an early a.m. flight, I know that there is something more meaningful worth writing about, and yet, these pancakes and eggs won't leave me alone... Because a long, indulgent, carbohydrate-rich breakfast is usually shared by people who have time to sit and enjoy one another's company. ...
7-3 again. No, I lie. It was more like 9-3. Bullwinkle's was my second job and will always remain my most favorite... I crept in at 9 or 10 every morning. They weren't open at 7 a.m. which delighted me so. I made the bestest friends there. To this day we remain lifelong, wonderful soul-mates. I even broke down the chola and made her learn to love me. Yes. Rosie, I speak of you, girl. Rosie was the token chola at Bullwinkle's and she would wear baggy chola t-shirts and one of them had a HUGE Tickle-Me-Elmo plastered on the front of it. And there I waltzed in and up to her register and was likely doing cheer routines on my way in... "HI!!! MY NAME IS CAMBRIA!! C-C-C-C-A-AA-M-MM-B-B-B-R-R-R-I-I-I-I-a' A-A-A-A!!! WHAT'S THAT SPELLLLLLLLL????" How annoying. I would always wear my hair up with a bouncy fountain and rub glitter all over my cheeks and put ribbons in my hair. It was completely bubbly and obnoxious and the Elmo chola ...
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