my life

Thursday, Nov. 29, 2001 : 1:41 pm
Jack the ripper has nothin' on me. I'm Sophia the Rambler.

We'll see. I might end up in a loony bin from the depression of knowing you all may need medication after long exposure to me. But oh well. We'll all deal with it the best we can right!

(the audience says RIGHT!!)

The only thing that is on my mind right now at this very minute is just the thought of if me talking to Cirrus really does anything. I mean I know she gets to know my voice and everything but does it increase her intelligence? Does it make her a happier baby in there? Does it make her move more? I don't know.

And another thing. Baby related of course. I was thinking last night as I lay (as well as I could in my short ass bathtub and my knees and belly poking out of the water) in my bubbly powder scented bath water that I wonder if me pouring the warm bubbly water over my stomach would make her want to come out into the world any quicker?

And do babies have anything to do with the decision to come out and experience the weird and twisted and wonderful and sweet world?

I hope its not just as boring and textbook as its just the gestation period being finished and the next stage is to come out. Surely not. Surely the kiddo has some kind of hand in the cookie jar of deciding when its time to stop sleeping and being cramped up right?

(Again, audience says, "RIGHT!")

This is what I mean. I ramble. I'm a perpetual rambler. I have the knack of rambling about anything and everything and that's probably why I have NO FRIENDS who like to do things I like to do. They probably see me doing the things I like to do and think," Rambler." I can see it in her. I can tell that she is not capable of stopping the strange and stupid fleeting thoughts thru her head. She has to go with it. Explore it even by trying to make others around her discuss the random thought that has entered her otherwise empty noggin she calls a head."

Sorry. Houston has no time for ramblers or those who are rambler sympathizers. That's it!!! That's the solution!!! IT'S NOT ME!!! IT'S NOT ME!!!

I KNOW ALL of you were kept up, unable to catch their needed Z's to accomplish their tasks during the day. Unable to finish their dinner. Drank massive amounts of Pepto. The pink drink. Indegestion was experienced as a nationwide epidemic here in America yesterday, lastnight and probably until this point in the day when I have found what the much needed and important answer is to the holy grail of a question. My question makes the question of, "what is the meaning of life?" seem like you're asking if your butt looks big in those jeans. In comparison of course. Because otherwise, that too is quite important too.

The answer is...(drum roll please)

I need to not live here in Hell town. I need to move back to my planet Austin. Trust me I wouldn't be missed here. Everyone would just be all happy that the rambler was no longer here and they'd throw a fuckin' party. At work they'd have an office party to celebrate that the receptionist girl who talks too fast to be understood by the aging, grey haired, hitler-ish moustached man who is my boss is gone. All they'll remember vaguely I might add, is that I hardly wore shoes. And when I did, they were the ugly scratched up maroon/cherry black docs that looked as if I had no money to buy new ones. It's true though. That in itself. I don't have money for unimportant things like style. If I did I wouldn't harp on Joann so much for spending money on clothes and other shit so often.

Another answer has come to me in the form of an epiphany. I'M A BITTER FUCKIN' BITCH. JEALOUSY AND THE GREEN EYED MONSTER HAVE TAKEN OVER AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT!!!

(screw you if you don't like my capital letters. deal with it or don't read. You won't go blind, I promise.)

I must think of the contrasts of how my little stupid life would be different if I hadn't moved here to the fiery pits of Hell we call Houston.

Lets see:

I wouldn't have lost 25 pounds. I would not be having my beautiful baby girl in a little more than a month. I wouldn't have met my angelic Justen.

I would be living on coffee (dr. pepper) and staying up til all hours of the morning with friends in coffee shops off the drag (guadalupe) and sixth street. I would probably have dyed my hair purple again. I would be with my best friends and I'd feel normal.

Of course my last days in ye old austin weren't that great either. I was quickly becoming one of those people who listen to sad music and aren't very happy. So it wasn't my surroundings it was just my attitude. Maybe if I change my attitude I'll look around and my surroundings and environment won't seem so bleak.

Who am I kidding. Yes they will. But at least I won't be so horrid to be around. I'll try. With all my might.

(I need addresses from you people to send christmas cards to dammit, so write me an email and give it to me. - sophia_meyer@yahoo.com) God now people know my last name. I'll probably get weirdo mail. yippee. Oh well, I have a gun. and I'm a good shot. I am not worried.

(I copied the idea from silvereyes. go read her she is great)

Love,

Sophia

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