Who's Your Pusher?

stop pushing me, ok?

i'm in unfamiliar territory here.
this place is not my own.

but oh. this is a pretty computer.

i'm spending the weekend with a friend. i'm spending the weekend partying harder than i've partied in a long time, but not ever. my morning after self is impressed with last night self. she pushed her limits, but didn't get pushed into more than she could handle.

who's your pusher?

i'm cool like LL.

(that is very interesting what LL did there. because if one were to not capitalize it ll, then it would be hard to tell if it was II or ll - those ll's being two different letters, i won't tell you which - so it's just for clarity that people will *always* have to capitalize it, and people don't always capitalize. like me. but there you go, LL gets capitals even from me as i am catering to clarity).

so yeah. seriously. not only do i have one pant leg rolled up right now (pyjama pants... but i won't deny i've been out of the house looking like that for temperature and pant-leg-falling issues), but everyone thought i was the coolest chick last night. it's not hard to get attention when you are the only girl hanging out with a bunch of guys. the best being that two other girls showed up and occupied the two boys i was with for a while so that i could just have some alone time to deal with my post-concert euphoria and starey-offy-into spacey. and then suddenly there was two guys on the piano after i thought it was all over. musically, the night was more than i could ask for.

and then. the best, too, is that people started getting up and dancing to the music and people were drunk like i'm-celebrating-my-birthday drunk. anyway, they were awesome and they were shouting counting crows lyrics right at each other like almost competing who can shout it more passionately, and right shouting right in the other's face. totally awesome. and they're acting it out and everything. awesome. but that's not even the best part yet. then they are twirling each other and of course we can't forget the dip. can you see where this is going? girl totally bites it when she's being dipped. bam. floor. awesome. you're like *oh* and holding your breath for all of point seven seconds and then you have to laugh. she's getting up, she's fine, that was hysterical. and then the piano man, well one of them, says *what the hell was that?* right after he finishes which affords me the opportunity to replay it in my head and laugh again rather loudly and hysterically, and then he says in the next song *here's the part for dipping. . . careful* and again i relived it.

oh well. maybe you had to be there. falling is the best.

who's your pusher?

when i left my mom last - yesterday - i was getting out of the car and she knew she would not see me as soon as usual. she says:: don't be crazy :: just like that with really stern serious and concerned tone and face.

like i can even get crazy. besides. doesn't she know that i've banished that word? i will only be allowing the term eccentric from now on. *i'll set the cats on you*

or maybe this wasn't a warning at all. maybe i misread the whole situation. perhaps she was only recently made aware of the new eccentric policy and she's expressing her fully supportive view to me:: don't be crazy ::

ah. i see the lesson: who's your pusher? it should have been so obvious... well, i guess it was obvious. staring me in the face. it's only going to be so long before i open my eyes, you know. a matter of time.

who's your pusher?

do you let people push you around? do you let people push you around because you, yourself, are trying to push yourself but you aren't going to do it so you are giving in to someone else because you know you need to?

:: does it make a difference ::

sure. sometimes. but not when you're a whining baby.

and why do you need to let someone push you around in the first place? when did it get so hard to push yourself? and why can you push yourself in some areas, but not in others? and there's no way that's your full potential yet anyway, so keep pushing. and just how should i be pushing this thing? which way? how long? how hard?

quit whining, baby.

just roll up your sleeves - or maybe just a pant leg - and push. this includes pushing back. but shoving matches are an entirely nother animal.

sometimes - probably a lot of times - i say 'nother' out loud. i know it's not the word, and i know it's not correct at all, but i like the way it sounds and looks. anyway, my mom always asks me incredulously 'did you just say nother?' like she can't believe it and doesn't remembering asking me already five times in the past.

maybe she doesn't? i forget things all the time.

maybe my hearing is superior. i'm looking into it.

i love this computer. it's really nice, i feel it necessary to comment on it again. it's so pretty. so white little iBook G4. want buy laptop so badly. no think reasonable financial move. *sad, about-to-cry face*

but i do want a laptop. i just know i won't do enough research to actually go and buy the one i want. and i always want an ipod, a banjo, an electric guitar, i will hold off on putting bass on the list for now that s has one but i will want one eventually, a tambourine, and there are other things. but i am so hungry i could bite off my own finger... it will pass. these cannibalistic tendancies.

i'll be sleeping on roses petals.
this rose bushes thing just seems unpleasant.

i want. i want. i want. i want. i want. yes i am - aware of my suppressed material-esque tendancies. but it's more a matter of art and my ability to access it from a receptive and creative standpoint. so i want art. and no. that's not a want. scratch that - need art. so that's that then. i just justified my rather cravenous list.

oh wow. i am tired from sitting in this chair now. i will need to pull - push - myself away from the pretty laptop with the nicely bouyant keys and glossy white vibe. good morning then. i mean that in the way that people mean good night, in that they are going to bed (or in my case: going to couch).

good morning.