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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy but I like you."
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It's true. Some people write in the loo.
February 4, 2008
Everyone wants to be fascinating.
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January 29, 2008
I wish you hadn't lied about me. Lying to me was one thing, but lying about me put you in a most unfortunate light. And I'd rather remember you in more flattering lighting.
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January 19, 2008
I am coming to understand that what is gone is gone. No step back toward the past will ever find me there. It will instead find me here with the fervent wish to not waste more time on what is behind me.
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November 23, 2007
Is it peculiar to feel you've somewhat bonded with a person because the two of you have the same bath towels?
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November 8, 2007
You know your empathy is working overtime when you feel compelled to free a rose petal from a spider's web.
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September 3, 2007
Something you don't hear about every day: Fantasy Tupperware Parties. I'd like to breathe life into this idea. Email me if you're interested in some serious fun.
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August 27, 2007
I remember Press-On Nails from when I was a kid. I guess they could come in handy if you felt you needed long nails in a jiffy for whatever reason. I prefer short nails, but that's me. What seems more useful to me would be a Press-On Life with a nice travel tote, for those moments when you run into people from high school.
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July 23, 2007
People are so fragile. You can wound someone's feelings without knowing you've done anything. Interpretation leaves room for a variety of grievances and heartaches. We leave our questions on the dresser with our keys and loose change. Did you do this? What was your intention? Am I making up stories in my head? Has my insecurity got the best of me? Do I know you at all? It is in the silence that misunderstandings come to life.
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July 18, 2007
I am grateful for the beauty I find here. It is everywhere. Even sadness is beautiful. To be vulnerable is beautiful. The losing, the ailing, and the healing have their own beauty. All the things we mark as failures and victories. Everything that falls apart. Words unspoken. Love that is given freely with the knowledge that there will be none in return. There are at least a hundred ways to look at every situation. There are choices in the cracks between the moments.
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June 13, 2007
Earlier I rescued a termite from a watery death. The tiny wood-chewer erroneously stepped into a drop of water on the rim of the sink in the loo, and was clearly distressed by his newfound sogginess. How do you make the distinction between a drowning honeybee and a drowning creature who wants to eat your house? I don't see the difference and hope I never do.
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May 14, 2007
In our attempt to be true to another person, we can inadvertently become untrue to ourselves.
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May 11, 2007
The world sticks to me. I am like flypaper in that way. I examine those bits of you and fragments of them, spat out words, frozen pictures, undecipherable looks on faces. I make up stories. There are countless versions of the truth. My beliefs have become what's true for me. Beliefs are tricky little things. They can be beautiful enough to steal your breath along with a few beats of your heart, or they can be the maniac under your bed. I have too many goddamned maniacs under my bed.
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March 22, 2007
There are many people I'd like to talk to from time to time, when the desire arises. Sentences have piled up like stacks of newspapers against an otherwise bare wall. But I am either filled with reticence or an inability to revisit a past where a certain someone resides. What could it hurt just to say the words? Words unspoken can burn a hole in just about anything.
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March 14, 2007
Hope, looking through a stained glass window. The colours paint the world unrealistically. Who let that happen? Someone wasn't keeping watch or thinking ahead. Someone's thoughts were in the stars instead.
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March 5, 2007
You never forget signing your first autograph or someone you love telling you no one will ever love you.
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March 2, 2007
Something that took me years to learn: When I buy new makeup, I will not miraculously look like a different person after applying it.
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February 14, 2007
Rushing around like a lunatic when you're late will often take you into further tardiness due to unexpected accidents like dropping things, bumping into doorframes, accidentally stepping on your cat's tail (and subsequently following her under the bed to apologize and try to win back her trust), etc.
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February 9, 2007
People who claim that honesty is important to them are often not referring to their own honesty. Just yours.
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February 1, 2007
I wonder if butterflies stay home on really windy days. I know I would, were I one. That would be a spazzy day of flying. Poor little windblown buddies. I hope they have the good sense to stay home and read on those days. I wonder what butterflies read. I wonder if they like toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I know I do.
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January 11, 2007
I'd like to say something brief about Lazy Susan, if I may. Here goes: That bitch never does anything. Thank you for listening.
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December 14, 2006
There are so many things I want to write, but every letter that would compose the words feels out of my reach. There's an I just dangling in space, waving like a bastard. That F is undoubtedly playing hard to get. Those double E's have no intention of coming down, and L simply wants to be noticed, not touched. G is rather full of itself, floating next to U, who doesn't much care for words or sentences anyway. Another I, but this one isn't waving; this one is doing its taxes and ignoring me entirely. The second L wants to know if anyone brought Parcheesi, and T is complaining about the stifling air up there. All the while, Y is quietly holding a grudge against everyone in the vicinity.
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December 2, 2006
I remember when it was "officially" announced that we were to refer to Jennifer Lopez from that moment forward as J.Lo. It scared me. Not in a hide under the desk sort of way, but in more of a where the hell am I and does anything make sense anymore kind of way. One day, one day that seemed like all the rest, the announcement rang out and people followed along like people often will.
But not me. I'm going to stick to calling her Dean "Bunnycat" Cornfield like I always have, while the rest of the sheep follow orders.
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October 12, 2006
I was thinking that punk rockers probably wouldn't enjoy being called Punky Brewsters, would they? Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure they've officially dropped the rockers part of the name, which has left them with just the punk. I remember when we were all supposed to think that Green Day was a punk band. That cracked me up. They're a pop band, plain and simple, and if you try to say otherwise I will stab you in the eye with a corner of my Pee-Chee folder because I'm a total Punky Brewster.
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October 11, 2006
Anxiety and plastic wrap do not go together. Entirely immiscible, the two. What you end up with is several wadded up balls of the wrap, excess perspiration, and a number of angry sentences filled with "bad" words ricocheting off anything in the vicinity of that impossible endeavor.
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July 20, 2006
I was just reading the storage instructions on this herb bottle, which states it should be kept in a "dark, dry cupboard," which started me thinking about all my illuminated, wet cupboards, which got me wondering if I could turn those into aquariums.
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July 8, 2006
The other day I sat on the couch, closed my eyes and ate a package of HoHos from memory. Sweet tulips, they were amazing. And when you eat them from memory, you don't get any chocolate in your teeth.
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June 28, 2006
I sat and watched a cool breeze brush quietly against the sun-weary rose petals, almost consoling them after many hours of baking in the heat of the day. And I thought about how a breeze comes along and soothes without asking for anything in return, and wondered what makes the breeze feel good? And the answer was clear: gratitude.
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June 9, 2006
You know, if you live long enough, you start to realize there are certain things you would really like to see; you've seen a great deal of stuff already and you're looking for some new sights. What would I like to see? I want to walk into Caesar's Palace and see a Yahtzee table in full swing, surrounded by mob guys with hookers, cocky college kids, and old ladies wearing big pink curlers.
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May 16, 2006
It's funny how the word nice is often used to describe a cup of tea. "How about a nice cup of tea, dear?" I wonder how many people have enjoyed a bastardly spot of it. "I'll take a real son-of-a-bitch of a cup, if you've got it."
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May 13, 2006
Why am I the person who, while walking through the house snacking on a box of raisins, would spot a fallen raisin on the floor, and who would discover while walking the fallen raisin to the kitchen trash that it is really a raisin-shaped nugget of cat poo?
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May 11, 2006
The unfortunate thing about headaches is that when you have one, you can't comfortably wear a three-story wig.
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Notes From The Loo
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