Are you in my head or am I in yours?

I would so climb that tree. I would climb the shit out of that tree. I’ve had too much coffee.

That’s the most recent text I sent to my friend.*

In other news, I started reading a new book today. Specifically, this book by Jenny Lawson. It’s one of those life changing books I keep randomly choosing to read these days.

So I’m sitting in a coffee shop in my neighborhood. Every table where someone is alone, they are staring seriously at their laptop screen. Every table with two or more, they are staring seriously at each other over their laptop screens.

Then there’s me: laughing uncontrollably every few minutes at my paper book that I got from the fucking library. I am the coffee shop dinosaur!

This book is amazing. It gave me permission to do more than just accept my inner crazy. It’s giving me permission to embrace all those parts of myself that are outside normal limits.**

I wanted a place where I could let that out. Write my own essays about all the crazy shit that’s happened in my life- both causing and because of my fun, fun mental illnesses. If only I had a pseudonymous blog, I thought.

Wait a minute! I have an art blog. Sometimes when crazy people vomit words in the medium of their choice it’s considered “art”, so why can’t I do that here?

Instead of staring seriously at my laptop screen while writing my serious poetry and curating my serious photo essays, why can’t I sometimes let the less sanitized parts of myself out here?

Because folks with PTSD and depression and anxiety and impulse issues and and and… can be serious, can be happy, and can be completely bonkers.

To commemorate this new embrace of my lunacy, I bought myself a button from the button-o-matic in the doorway and went out into the world, a whole-r Maggiemorphosis.

This is the button I got. I kept trying to get it in focus, my camera wouldn't cooperate. Who really cares? This isn't a photography post.***
This is the button I got. I kept trying to get it in focus, my camera wouldn’t cooperate. Who really cares? This isn’t a photography post.***

Jenny Lawson, you won’t see this, but you are amazing. Thank you.


*Which means that if she ever stumbles on this blog she’ll know it’s me. Nothing’s perfect.

**Like how my brain woke me up at 2:30 this morning and wouldn’t shut up. I’m sure all the whiskey I drank trying to shut it up last evening didn’t help…

***Now I guess if you see a woman wearing an out of focus cockatoo button I have really blown my pseudonymity.

 

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4 thoughts on “Are you in my head or am I in yours?

  1. “Who really cares?” you ask in the caption. I do! Your new button commemorates your new embrace of your lunacy, you say, which makes it significant.
    So, it’s a cockatoo? Peering into the fuzziness it appears to be a bust of a cockatoo, like a cameo.
    I bet it looks swell on you. Wear it proudly!
    Here’s to all things Whole-r.

    Liked by 1 person

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