The Confession

What I am about to share will strip away any cool possibly left in my image. (That I believe I have cool is a testament to the idiocy within, by the way.)

I am severely tone-deaf, which is why I hold in such reverence anyone who can carry a proper tune.

(The above isn’t the uncool thing; the following is.)

I sing to myself. A LOT. And, I dance along to this very bad singing.

More to the point, I sing to the tune of Maroon 5’s Sugar, the things of which I need to convince myself, about myself.

Meaning, I sing AFFIRMATIONS which might otherwise be on a poster in someone’s office.

I don’t even pay attention to the syllable count, y’all. I just squish words into incomprehensible sentences and dance around.

Right now? Right now I am singing –
It’s aaalright
You’re gonna really do so well
On this Fre-ench
You’re gonna really do so well
And it’s su-h-um good lovin’
In your heaaaad
You’re gonna really be so great

I hope you’ll still invite me to your parties.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Masks. Both the metaphorical and literal. I love a good rose and honey mask as equally as I love the Italian ones worn in bad sex movies (hi Tom Cruise!), as equally as I love me a good mask that I rip off of lying liars who lie.
2. Jilly. I am panicking about ceci, and she is panicking about cela. Neither one of these things comes close to the other, and so we are sending one another voice-notes of support and love.
3. Voice-notes. I hate looking down at my phone and typing, so I am constantly sending voice-notes. One particular friend hates to receive them so I send to them more voice-notes than to anyone else.

Ottawa | Day 294 | September 20, 2019

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