Well, well, well. If you live in San Diego and you are prone to leave your home from time to time, chances are you happened upon my face on the cover of the San Diego Reader! I’m... giddy. If you are visiting this site for the first time because you saw my face amid feathers, I welcome you with open arms and dirty pillows upon which to rest your weary, blog-traveled head.
The question that enters my mind is this: “Sans anonymity, can I be as honest and open?” People in my life will flock to the site for glimpses of themselves, and will they like what they find? How many times have I typed the term, “The truth hurts”? But what they fail to realize, is that my opinion does not have to be their truth. It’s just what I think, and if you are embarrassed, hurt, offended, etc., then chances are on some level, I must have pulled a string of truth that vibrates within you.
Ah, but this is too deep, and the day is just beginning! Tonight I will be out with friends, Bourbon Street, and tomorrow night I think we’ll hit up Hamburger Mary’s. Last night was simply delightful. Who knew my sister could be so domestic? M.s. and I had a delicious, home-cooked meal and laughed to the silly antics of Chris Farley and the admirable, sarcastic delivery of David Spade. We marveled at my face, sitting on the coffee table.
This morning I received a most eloquent and beautiful email from a new and dear friend, in which she quoted Leo Tolstoi: “A writer is dear and necessary for us only in the measure in which he reveals to us the inner working of his soul.” Though I can be a miserable misanthrope on occasion, let the truth be known that I love people. And I love for people to know me, know who I am, know what I think, understand where I’m coming from. Okay, so maybe I don’t love all those things as much as I need them. But in my experience, it can be a fine line between love and need .
Today, I just LOVE being ME.