.someone else's sunshine.
ask me how old i am.
i'm 24.
ask me how many cats i have.
i have two cats.
i'm 24 years old and i have two cats.
and lately, i don't want any cats.
lately, i feel like i want warm weather and sand. the kind of white hot sand that people who aren't afraid to wear bikinis romp around in with paperback novels in one hand and beers in the other. lately, i want to go on vacation.
i'm not a real vacation person- as in, i never go anywhere. and when i think about travelling (anxiety bubbles up in my gut), i think of cold cozy places in the north with snow and bears. i think of alaska. alaska is and will always be my number one destination, but when i think about travelling alone (anxiety, anxiety), i think it might ease the ache and fear to go somewhere warm.
i think it might be a good idea to go to hawaii and work on an organic farm. there's a place that i read about right before i graduated from college that i pretended to think seriously about going to- but i knew that i had no real desire to move to a far away island in the midst of college-graduation-what-will-i-do-with-my-life upheaval. so i moved to portland, oregon and adopted two cats. which is definitely a little safer.
but now i think, maybe i'll go harvest some sugar cane, stop smoking cigarettes (except for those kinds of cigarettes), drink rum, and turn brown. i think my skin would rather shrivel, crack, and crumble before it turned toward the sun. and then i look at the pictures of the golden naked hippies showering outside at the pahoa hostel and organic farm in hawaii, and i roll my eyes a little bit, because give-me-a-break- who are these people showering naked with their yellow dreadlocks and brown boobs? and i try to picture myself pulling up roots in my bra and then sitting around in the sun all day giggling with naked people and i just can't see it at all. maybe i'd rather be angst-bound in rainy portland where i can sit at a bar and drink and eavesdrop on the conversations of the bartenders and the regulars and then go home to my two cats and knit.
because what do you knit on an island?
i'm 24.
ask me how many cats i have.
i have two cats.
i'm 24 years old and i have two cats.
and lately, i don't want any cats.
lately, i feel like i want warm weather and sand. the kind of white hot sand that people who aren't afraid to wear bikinis romp around in with paperback novels in one hand and beers in the other. lately, i want to go on vacation.
i'm not a real vacation person- as in, i never go anywhere. and when i think about travelling (anxiety bubbles up in my gut), i think of cold cozy places in the north with snow and bears. i think of alaska. alaska is and will always be my number one destination, but when i think about travelling alone (anxiety, anxiety), i think it might ease the ache and fear to go somewhere warm.
i think it might be a good idea to go to hawaii and work on an organic farm. there's a place that i read about right before i graduated from college that i pretended to think seriously about going to- but i knew that i had no real desire to move to a far away island in the midst of college-graduation-what-will-i-do-with-my-life upheaval. so i moved to portland, oregon and adopted two cats. which is definitely a little safer.
but now i think, maybe i'll go harvest some sugar cane, stop smoking cigarettes (except for those kinds of cigarettes), drink rum, and turn brown. i think my skin would rather shrivel, crack, and crumble before it turned toward the sun. and then i look at the pictures of the golden naked hippies showering outside at the pahoa hostel and organic farm in hawaii, and i roll my eyes a little bit, because give-me-a-break- who are these people showering naked with their yellow dreadlocks and brown boobs? and i try to picture myself pulling up roots in my bra and then sitting around in the sun all day giggling with naked people and i just can't see it at all. maybe i'd rather be angst-bound in rainy portland where i can sit at a bar and drink and eavesdrop on the conversations of the bartenders and the regulars and then go home to my two cats and knit.
because what do you knit on an island?
posted by .i'll never tell. at 3:53 PM
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