Fecund

It's Spring.

Here in the U.S.A, or, more correctly: in the Northern Hemisphere.

If you haven't noticed.

I have. Noticed, that is.

I've been walking in parks, taking bus rides, and I've seen everything just bursting with life: the trees exploding with flowers and new leaves (can't breathe! ... pollen, you know), ponds and rivers overflowing their banks, turtles with their baby turtles plink-plop-plooping into the water when they hear my footsteps. Swans (not Bella and not Black) hssing me away from their clutches that will soon be goslings following along behind.

Everything is just full of life. Fecund.

Me, too: I'm ... fecund. That is: full of it.

It's amazing the philosophical thoughts that come to mind, and where they come. For me, you see, I've been cooking, baking carrot bread, making gnocchi, 'cause, well, 'cause Saga asked me: 'oh, I know how to make gnocchi, but how do you make gnocchi?' and I can write out a recipe, but it's so much easier if I'm actually doing something I describe ...

So, yeah, go ahead and ask me how I got all those smex scenes so realistic in my stories (Bells Ringing, Prowling Panther and Happy Ending, anyone?). I dare you.

... *ahem* ...

... So I've been, you know, cooking, and, you know, eating, you know, what I've been cooking.

No chance of me gaining even a pound. People tell me, 'oh, wait 'til you're 30!'

... as if I'll make it that far.

But carrot bread. You know, carrots have a lot of fiber in them, and carrot bread is really good for you. It has vitamin A for your eyes ... my eyes ... my crystal blue, so enchanting, eyes. My dad's eyes. So intense. So penetrating, the way he looks right into people's souls, just like me, until you don't even know what's happening until you wake up beside me and you're like, 'what happened?' knowing exactly what happened, over and over again.

... but I digress. Anything to avoid getting to the point, eh, `phfina?

And the point? Well, carrot bread, the one thing it's good at is keeping you regular.

So I was there, one day, on the throne, and I ... you know, was thinking, and I remember reading Silence of the Lambs ... you know: reading, or what some people do besides go to the movies or watch TV? READING?

Anyway, I was reading Silence of the Lambs where Clarice visited Hannibal for the first time, but just before that visit an orderly confronted her, and asked her, point blank, what color her shit came out, because she could see it before it hit the air, as she doesn't have a dick to block the view.

Don't believe me? Read it yourself in the book.

And Clarice was stunned, so he pressed: demanding does it come out lo-o-o-o-o-ng?

So, there I was, on the crapper, being very regular, remembering that, and so I looked.

God.

Now I know what I'm full of.

So I flushed me down. More of me than what's left getting up from the toilet, or so it seemed.

And I realized what I am. When I have a cold I have a head full of snot. But otherwise I know exactly what I'm full of.

(At other times, a few weeks ago, I'm full of something else, and I'm like why? Why does there have to be so much pain and discomfort every month for me to slough out one little cell, and yes, I know why, thank you, I can read wikipedia, too. But this conversation is never an interesting one to anyone, really. Half the world goes through it, so why should I bitch about my cramping? what good does it do anybody else? except to stay away from me 'cause I wanna just kill anybody who comes within reach)

(Well, I suppose it'd be an interesting conversation for ... hm, Rosalie? No. She doesn't need the temptation. Nor does she want it. Carlisle. He can bandage Bella while she's bleeding out all over their carpet, and she's cleaned the room of every other vampire in the house, even her BFF Alice. Or Jasper. For the opposite reason. Do you know he almost murdered a girl in the cafeteria the same first day Bella came to Forks High School. He almost went up to her and was going to ask her to come into the forest with him. This is 50 years after he's been abstaining ... well, trying to abstain. That would be a really short conversation with Jasper. Really short).

My, oh, my do I love to wander in the conversation, don't I?

My point — `phfina, you actually have a point? — Yes, I do. My point is this. I may say things here or to you, but just remember what I'm full of. And I'll try to remember, too. And if I say something, you can just say: 'Oh, that's just `phfina. She's full of shit!'

You know, say that if that's empowering for you. If you can walk away from the conversation and you're not hurt and you know that you know you're doing the right thing. That you are who you are and no little shit can shake your tree, 'cause you're solid as a rock.

Or you can use it as an excuse. "Oh, `phfina's full of shit! She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Same words, but are you sure that you're sure? Did you say something hurtful, or coming from your pain and insecurity? If you did, and you call me on my shit, well, fine, but it doesn't change who you are and who you aren't. What you did and what you didn't. It doesn't change the fact that you're lying to yourself, and not even convincingly at that.

Carrot bread.

Now I'm going to write out my recipe for gnocchi.

But first I have to break Saga's heart, with my next post, 'cause she asked me to. Maybe I'll break yours, too, if you're foolish enough to put your hopes into me that `phfina will just make it and live a normal and happy life. 'Cause if bright, bright, so smart and honest `phfina can make it, well, then you can make it, too, right?

Yeah, I am so full of it.

Well, at least it's a lovely Spring day. So there's that.