A walk, a run, a swim, and a dream….

Why is it that
when at home, I worry about going on vacation, and as soon as I'm here, worry
about everything going on at home? I am so worried that I won't be able to find
a home in time, so worried that I won't be able to get my funds together to
make it happen, so worried. WHY DO I WORRY SO? Is there something inside of me
that just waits until I finally relax to go off like a bomb, and create an
entirely new string of worries? You're okay, you're okay, there is absolutely no
reason to stress. B-snaps offered me an out this morning, and I guess it's not
so much an out as it is an IN. He is going to be out in Vegas for the next
three months, as of March 9^th, so he offered his home to me. At half
the rent that he is paying. That way I will be able to save my money till I get
into my own place, and be up in LA with the quickness. Ugh, I don't like the
thought of all my things being in storage. But I must say it sounds enticing.
The offer that is, not the storage. Because if I were to keep all my belongings
down in sd, my place would pretty much act as an $1900/mo storage unit. For my
shit, and for kitty. And this way, if I were to stay at B-snaps, I could bring
only what I need, what I absolutely must have.

Something to
think about I suppose. But isn't there always? Right after I spoke with him
this morning, I decided a run is necessary. Running always clears my head, (and
my lungs!) so whenever I feel as though there are things to figure out, I run
until I've made a decision. Or until my legs hurt, or until its raining, or
until I'm so thirsty I can't run, and must walk in order to not die. Well this
morning on my run I decided that I need to let go of my worries. Let go of my
"issues".

Last night I had strange dreams about x-boyfriends that I have
wronged, which are more than you can imagine. A plethora of men have run through
my life and I have ruined a plethora of men's lives. Funny isn't it? I can make
so many men happy and make so many men cry. Terrible woman. Absolutely
terrible. Ever since I watched "moment of truth" the other night, I have been
having these dreams about my x's and I have been trying my best to make amends
with them and let them know that what I have done to them keeps me up at night,
makes me toss and turn. Sometimes I wake up crying. Sometimes I wake up
sobbing. Sometimes....I wake up thinking they are there, and fuck that. Talk
about being stressed as soon as you open your eyes. Thinking you are still
sleeping next to men you have cheated on, cheated with and then on, lied to,
ugh. Let it go....

So I ran. I ran
and ran and ran, and then I went home and changed from my running clothes into
my bathing suit and went to the ocean. The salt will clean me. The ocean's
power, the moon, it all pushes and pulls negative energy from you, and the
water washes away any lingering feelings that have magically survived
Poseidon's wrath. So I went outside, and low and behold. Flowers. 

  This is what the
flowers outside my mom's house look like.....

Here is another picture of them.

And this is what
the back of my bathing suit looks like.

And this is what
I looked like while on my towel, posing awkwardly for you.

I had to be
careful, because, as the sign says, there is a dangerous shore break, and I didn't want to

be tossed on my head.

And this is my
walk back, feeling much better than when I went down. 

All very purifying.
Even the walk back felt great. In fact, it makes me wish that the ocean in San
Diego, (which a map curiously enough says is the same ocean as in Hawaii) was a bit warmer.
Because then I would be more inclined to dip my filthy soul in hopes of
becoming something more than I am. But I suppose I do that every single night
when I dream. Dip my soul in subconsciousness with hopes of some sort of
forgiveness. Some sort of....something.