Proof.
The chocolate chip bar cookies baking in the oven right this very moment just cuz we had the chips and I had the desire to bake something with love.
Proof.
I actually read through several news stories on a variety of websites last night and this afternoon. I now understand and care about what's going on in Japan, Libya, the Gaza Strip, and some wacky Pennsylvania woman's vagina.
Side Trip: I A) love that this story was reported from Scranton, PA because Scranton just sounds naughty and B) she's being charged with intent to deliver narcotics. Yeah. Ya think? Surprise, Doc! 50 bags of heroin! What shall we name them all?
Note: Remember, Ladies. Kegel exercises are important not just for bladder control and better sex but for the extra bonus of a pickpocket-proof purse.
Proof.
I whittled away at more than half of the unread blog entries in my Google Reader tonight. I'd been missing some good stuff!
Case in point: From Tara Bites Back, this little funniness Open Letter to Kids: Hands Off Our Holidays or this poignant post from Wil Wheaton in which he writes about River...something he so very rarely does. Dammit, River. Why?
Proof.
I'm in the process of making plans to see some of my friends I feel like I've not seen for awhile. There will probably be a Church o' Brunch or a Saturday Eventists gathering soon. Regardless, Gabor's anyone?
Proof.
I actually found myself angry on Lex's behalf today. Fuck you, Qwest. You and your little dog, Toto, too.
Proof.
I found myself considering this almost two-week old post from the Divatologist out of the blue this morning on my way to work and contemplating a response to it. I've barely commented on anything of anybody's. Odd that. I've always got something to say.
Proof.
I understood, once again, that "vulnerable" doesn't mean gutting my own self and pulling out my intestines in a heaping, steaming pile of goo just waiting for the stomping to commence. I can and do control just how much power my vulnerability will yield. By the way? Orgasms are not vulnerability. Not really. No matter how earth-shattering they feel. Trust me on this.
Proof.
I understood, once again, that I don't have to earn affection by doing or by buying or by being someone or something other than me, Just Jane. That is enough.
I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content. - Walt Whitman, from Song of Myself
Proof.
I had an epiphany after reading Peej's entry about open-mindedness and change that it's only when I come up against something truly challenging, an incredibly uncomfortable idea (and often times the most traditional ideas) that I retreat back into old habits, old tapes, the old self-sabotage and self-loathing.
Open-minded can be many things. Open-minded doesn't mean just about embracing sexual orientations and alternative lifestyles. Being open-minded is simply the willingness to tolerate and remain open to all things...even when it's as uncomplicated as what feels like undeserved attention and affection.
Hello, Jane. Nice to see you. Where've you been?
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