sometimes secrets slip through

once again an unplanned communication reveals enough about me to copy and paste it here and i suppose that is a large part of what this blog space is about, a kind of reflective record of interactions with others that help me recollect, reveal, and record bits and pieces of myself for myself and anyone who might want to know... sometimes the obscurity respects privacy and sometimes it is just my playful way with words that seeks unique and maybe clever ways of writing what amounts to the same thing i've written all through this life... it is another side of me...

so the message was...

I may or may not have written the most to you in my life.
and i am charging up my zodiac strength to possibly find out what i will get you for my birthday.

and i woke from a refreshing slumber with an extra four plus hours cuz it is a day off and smiled at the text message that called me to write (a whole lot more than this) and the day continues, but for now, here is where it began...

and what do you want for your birthday?...

ah, but my birthday is april and yours is november, both the 6th, so there is time before either comes around on the calendar...

on the other hand, the calendar is meaningless to me most of the time and i have celebrated my birthday only two or three times in this life, which may be sad for some, but is as i know birthdays for me, so not as sad for me...

you wrote what i will get you for my birthday . . . like what you will get me for your birthday?... that is an interesting juxtaposition of pronouns - arrangement of words, that is...

what would you like to get me for your birthday?...

and writing...

wow, really?... i write more than i breathe sometimes... started when i could first hold a crayon, but got into writing a lot every day in my teens when i the girl i loved more than anything else in this life (more than myself) stopped loving me the way i loved her and that ending scarred me and started me on writing almost every day...

sometimes i write simple records of life, the hope is someone comes along (like her) who will want to know me so much that she will want to read every word... and sometimes writing is my therapy like it was in my teens - that is the babbling that few ever really understand cuz it rambles off on so many tangents that the threads of any meaning are hidden in the mass of words...

anyway, writing means a lot to me in many ways, from keeping me sane and functional and free in the 'real world' (out in public interacting and surviving with the other human beings) and happy in my own head understanding myself and what i want and how to get it...

some people don't care if they actually really share anything - like actually really understand each other...

that is sad...

i want to understand me... i want to understand you... so we can really share understanding and mean something we want to remember...

make sense to you?...

you may not want that, which is ok...

i wonder what you want...

(and do you know?)

i love days off :)

secrets?... what secrets? :)