GRAND FINALE Sisterhood of Missing Red Lipsticks

On a beach at Hampton's

2: Oh my lord! What happened to you? Are you OK? Do you...Do you need any help?
1: What?! What the fuck!? What do you mean??
3: I must say darling, she's got a point.
1: WHY? I mean I know I've had a rough night but why are you two staring at me like that? 
3: Have you ever looked at yourself lately? 
2: Do you feel funny at all? Any weird feelings? On my god 3! What do you think, should we call an ambulance??
3: Ambulance? Ambulance for what? 
2: But! For her obviously!
3: Oh sure let me call an ambulance for 1 darling. Umm yes hello! Yes, is this the big hospital for broken red lipsticks? Yes...I shall need you to send an ambulance for my dear friend 1 here, she's been broken pretty badly. Yes, yes sure. The address is...let me see here for a second dear. This is Hamptons beach. Yes, darling. Alright splendid. We're waiting for you right here at the Hamptons beach. Uh huh....hmmm bye now.
2: Ha. Ha. 
3: What? I called the red lipstick ambulance. They'll be here soon! They said to tell you, number 2, that every red lipstick mattered to them dearly.
2: Fuck off! 
3: Whooo! Miss two, look at you! Fierce!
1: May I trouble one of you to fucking tell me what this is all about?
3: Are you drinking a little too much these days my dear?
1: I don't know...1 or 2...or few glasses of champagne everyday. Oh wait no, more like cocktails...
3: Oh you like cocktails too? I love cocktails. 
1: Fuck yeah! I do too! Jeez you should have been at that party the other night!! Or was it a few nights ago? I'm not sure...I can't remember. I still don't feel too well.
2: No surprises there...
1: What? What do you mean?
2: I said it's only normal that you don't feel too well. Just normal, you know...
1: Hey 3! What the fuck does she mean?
3: There there! Calm down both of you. Look. 1. You've got a problem, darling. I mean...You really are in trouble at this point.
2: Trouble? More like screwed!
1: Why?
3: Darlin' I don't have the slightest clue what might have attacked you, but...you are...you were...decapitated.
1: I was WHAT? 
2: Decapitated. It means your head was cho..
1: I FUCKING KNOW WHAT FUCKING DECAPITATED MEANS YOU LITTLE CUNT!
2: ....
3: She's lipstick #1 darling, lust. Don't take it personally. She's lusty, she can't help lusting. Besides cunt is not a bad word. It's full of life, don't you think? Such an active word...Makes you think.
2: Think? Alright here's a little thinking for you 1. Your head is not only completely chopped off from rest of your body, God knows where it might be, but it is also completely and utterly covered in shit. Based on my experience, I would say that this is dog shit. I should know. My dear Dee had one. So it is pretty safe to say that some poor dog bit your head off, swallowed you and then pooped you out. I swear to sweet Jesus I hope that poor puppy is alright.
1:...3?? Is she right about all this?
3: Depends. 
1: On what?
3: On whom she meant when she said "my dear Dee". Who is Dee, darling 2?
2: Dee is my first pair of lips or was I should say. She forgot me at her doctor's bathroom.
1: WHAT?
2: I know 1. It's not the most prestigious place to be forgotten or the fact that I was forgotten to begin with but I hardly think that you're in a better position to judge me.
1: No you arrogant love song! I'm surprised about the Dee part!!
3: You too?
1: What do you mean? Why are you surprised?! Oh! Don't even tell me! You too??
2: I am sorry I think all of you are grossly mistaken. I was special to my dear Dee. She didn't want any red lipstick, she wanted me!
1: Hahaha. Thanks number 2 for the laugh! I guess one can laugh even when buried neck deep in dog shit.
3: I must say, that was really funny, darling. So funny that it wasn't even naive. Not even for you.
2: I don't care what you think! I was the one for her. Her only love.
1: She bought me first you idiot! She discovered red with me! Not you! you're just a cheap follow up to my spectacle! 
3: Ladies. Please, I must apologize and bring both of you back to your senses by saying, I was her last red lipstick and yes maybe she did forget me in a bathroom too. But at least it was a luxurious one with golden faucets and cloth towels, not a white-tiled,  tight doctors bathroom, where hand sanitizer is constantly battling the smell of piss and tears of sorrow.
1: Wait, where was this hotel? I might check in and get back in shape.
2: Get back in shape? You need to get back in your container first!
1: Oh piss off!! Go show some love to crabs or something.
3: Hotel is right behind us, ladies. That big one over there. We were here to sell it to some new investors in town and she forgot me while she was freshening up at the bathroom. 
1: Did you roll down here all the way from up there?
3: Please, darling. I don't roll, I get carried around. I've met this darling couple, who were both cheating on their own spouses with each other. One thing led to another and you know...
2: What?
3: Darling, we had sex, but of course! 
2: Oh my God! So you've helped murder love!
3: Murder love? Darling, love dies on its own and do you even know why?
2: A) no it doesn't and B) even if it does it's because of liars like you!
1: Actually, it's because of lust, or lack thereof. If I'm gone, you're gone miss love bug. Don't you forget that! You exist because I do!
3: Well, one could argue that love exists only because lies do but I won't get in the way of an argument between love and lust. It's too much fun, I certainly can't miss it.
2: I exist because I come before you two. Lust is born out of love and lies out of lust. There's no argument here. Sorry!
1: Jesus, how the fuck did you end up here anyway!?
2: Well...After she forgot me at the doctors bathroom, this nice gentleman found me and took me to his wife, who was very ill. She was in a hospital and she looked almost lifeless. You know...colorless...So sad, really. So he gave me to her and I kissed her lips. It was such an emotional moment! Full of love. Her love, his love, my love for their love.
1: Oh my God! I think I've put thrown up in my mouth.
3: Oh I sort of dozed off...Wake me up when she's finished.
2: You two...I won't even try with you two...
3: Please sweetheart. Don't give up on us! Finish the story. We're listening! Promise.
1: Speak for yourself!
2: Anyway! So this couple's daughter came to visit her. She was in her 20s and had a boyfriend. The mother, oh that sweet loving woman, gifted me to her daughter, who was coming here to Hamptons for the weekend together with her boyfriend. After a party at their friend's villa, they came down here to watch the sunrise and that's when I slipped out of her back pocket.
1: You ran away?
2: Yes! What's with your tone?
3: I mean....I didn't think you were the free spirited type either, darling.
2: I am not! My name is Love. Are you kidding? I am loyal!
1 and 3: HAHAH. 1: Love is not fucking loyal. 3: Love can be many things darling but loyal is not one of them.
2: FUCK YOU BOTH!
1: Wow!! 2! Such life in you, for the first time! Maybe we should get you angry more often.
3: No but did you find it at least?
2: Find what?
3: Love darling! Your own?
2: No. Instead I found you two.
3: Well...here's what I suggest ladies...We cannot go back to our stores in Manhattan. We are all nonreturnable at this point. I don't know about you but I personally like the beach.
1: Yes. Full of half naked men and women. Life is good here if you ask me!
2: Everybody seems to love something or someone here. I've seen women in love with their jewels, men with their cars and even few people with each other. I am OK here.
3: Splendid! So we are staying then? 
1 and 2: Yes.
3: Perfect! My dear red lipstick ladies, welcome to your new life at the Hamptons.
1 and 2: Welcome!
2: Shouldn't we find an apartment first?
1: Or a hotel room for the night?
3: Yes, yes definitely.
2: And then we need to find a furniture store. For the apartment.
1: Or a car! I'm not fucking walking everywhere.
3: Yes that too, certainly. But first things first. We need to baptize our newly declared sisterhood of red lipsticks with a glass of champagne or two, wouldn't you agree?
1: No. Let's make it cocktails!
2: I am a wine woman. Rose preferably. 
3: Good! I know the excellent place for all three. Shall we? 

As they were getting on their way to the luxury hotel right across from the beach, Dee was on her way out of the hotel. She was going back to Manhattan. It doesn't matter if she had a good time at the grand ball, on the way to which she forgot red lipstick #1, or if she was given good news at her doctors appointment, where she forgot red lipstick #2 or even if she successfully sold the luxury hotel at the Hampton's.

What matters was that unintentionally she had united lust, love and lies. As dangerous as they are together, they are also nothing without each other. They are their own reason to exist and results of their existence. They might think they had Dee to thank for their sisterhood but they were in fact inseparable since universe started to exist. It's only a matter of time before they find each other again and again, every lifetime, every single time. As long as the world keeps spinning. sisterhood of red lipsticks shall keep being for love needs lust to survive and lust needs love to make sense while lies keeps them together.

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Writer's Note: Red Lipsticks 1, 2 and 3 were not harmed intentionally, though definitely lost. Any injuries they encountered were solely due to personal choices they made. I loved every single one of them and loving my current one. I did attempt to lose it once, at a New Year's party in my friend's place. She was reunited with me safely, though I am sure she mingled with my friend's perfumes and maybe even her husband's ties. I do apologize for any unladylike behaviors she might have performed that night. She is after all a red lipstick and you know what they say about women, who wear red lipsticks. They are passionate, full of love and a little devilish. I should know. 

Morning Pages - Red Lipstick #3

Red Lipstick #3

Lucifer

What? You think you're a big shot now that you're a business woman!? What are you doing in hotel industry anyway?..You should be in an industry for lying? Isn't everyone only lying to each other to get the business done? Why give all these industries different names? They're all the same thing; lies. We are all in the business of lying; not networking, not making connections, not calculating risk or analyzing profits. We are all lying. So don't be so proud Miss Dee. Misleading Miss Dee. You won't get far without lying. In fact, if I were your mouth, which I kind of am since I live on your lips, I would only open myself up for lying. There's no worth in anything else, am I not right? Oh Miss Dee..Where are we going now anyway? What are we doing in this town? What is it called? Let me take a peek at your phone here. By the way, you lied to me when you said I would have my own special bag pocket! Look at me sitting next to your precious Iphone. Jesus....bunch of bullshit...that's what it is...I don't like your Iphone. It's white, symbol of purity. Purity my ass. As pure as Chinese children's sweat working on the Iphone assembly line for 12 hours/day...Bunch of lies...

Anyway, let me ask my dear pure friend Iphone where we are. Hamptons! Oh boy! I like the Hamptons...Everything is so superficial that it almost becomes the truth. Their own version of it anyway. I feel comfortable here. Nice work Miss Dee. That's right, you have that investor's meeting today! You're going to try to convince a bunch of evil men to buy that hotel property in the Hamptons, aren't you? That's why you're wearing red lipstick you sneaky evil woman you! Well...there's no business deal I cannot close, let me tell you that. This deal is yours sweetie pie; just don't forget to apply an extra coat, will you? There's no truth that cannot be covered up with the lies of a of red lipstick, dear. Let's sell us some hotels.

At the bathroom of a hotel
Hamptons

Miss Dee! How many times do I have to tell you? Two coats aren't enough! Come on now. Do one more. Miss Dee! Stop playing with your phone, would you? Your phone is not going to save the day here honey. I will. Seal it with a kiss as they say...(giggling) Now there, there! I am only joking. You wouldn't be offended by a silly joke now, would you? Miss Dee! You need to pay attention here. Miss Dee? Miss Dee! Oh-uh...Miss Dee, are you or are you not coming back? I can tell you now that you'll be sorry if you go back out there without a third coat of red lipstick! You are not evil enough, yet. Miss Dee?..

Oh bloody hell, she really did leave me here, didn't she...How dare she? She didn't even bother to lie to my face, she just walked out on me...Oh well...At least I got rid of that fucking phone. What now? Can I lie my way out of this bathroom? Next woman who comes along, I will lie to. Easy peasy.  There! Here she comes. Oh excuse me madam! I think I've had a little too much champagne, I cannot seem to find my way back to my hotel room. Would you please be a dear and help me get out of here? Darling? Oh my! You are not a madam, but a mister! And you're not alone? What are you people doing here? Are you really making out in the bathroom of a hotel? Really? And I have to sit here, listen to it all? Magnificent. 

5 minutes later

Are you guys done? Good. Now if one of you could notice me and we could get out of here, that would be swell. Hmm...she is a hot one. Good for you mister! How many people did you have to lie to do her at a hotel bathroom? And you Madam! How many people did you do in a hotel bathroom? You two look like you were made for each other. Wonderful...Oh yes, thanks! Finally! Yes...I know. I am a great lipstick. Yes, red would look so hot on her. Should you take me? Yes, you should. What's that madam? You're worried I might give you herpes but you're okay fucking strangers in hotel bathrooms? Well, you are quite the piece of work, you know that. Yes, stop with the bullshit. Just let this fine man take me, give me to you and you to your lips please, so that we can all get out of here? Thank you! Where's our next stop guys? Off to the room so soon? If you're going to make me work all night, you could at least do me the courtesy of liquoring me up a little, no? I miss old world liars! Such gentlemen, you know. Today? Today everybody lies for fun; it's not a sport like it used to be. We lie just because. Sad really but it is the truth; the truth about lying. Oh won't you look at that!? Miss Dee is still here at the restaurant trying to close her deal. Miss Dee darling, don't waste your beautiful breath. You won't close this deal, you are not wearing my third coat. And me? Oh Miss Dee, I miss you. And yes, I just lied.

Morning Pages - Red Lipstick #2

Red Lipstick #2

LOVE

Oh Dee I am so happy you brought me to the office today. I've had such a lovely day with you. I was in my special bag pocket first and then you took me out, put me on the desk. You even talked about me with your boss. You have no idea how happy you make me when you recommend me to others. Goes to show that you really care about me. There's nothing more important than the love bond you and I have, you know. We can overcome anything if we're together. Your love for red with my love for you. Ahh...And now. Look at us now at your doctor's. You and I are more than just a pair of walking lips and red lipstick. I mean I am at your doctors with you. What other red lipstick came to the doctors with you? These are your most intimate, most private moments. Just think about it. You're most vulnerable when you are trying to heal, aren't you? It is your weakest moment when you know you're not one hundred percent well. If it isn't love to share those weak moments, what is? I can't believe I am declaring my love to you at the bathroom of your doctors but...Ohh what the hell! Dee, I love you. ... Aren't you going to say something? Won't you look at me, please? Where are you going? Dee? Dee! Come back to me, please. I am sorry I caught you off guard. Dee!! Don't turn off the lights! You know I don't like darkness. DEEEE!! 

She didn't really leave me here, did she? She wouldn't. She couldn't have because she cares about me. All this time we've been together, she has always taken very good care of me. I even had a special pocket in her bag, just like that special place in her heart. She is not leaving me! She's coming back. I know it.

5 Minutes Later

Bathroom at the Doctors

Won't you look at that?...Just like I've said. She's coming back for me. I can hear her footsteps. Hi Dee...But...Who...Where is...Who are you, Mister? Could you please call for Dee. Please tell her I have been waiting here in the dark for a while now but it's OK. I am not mad at her. Just a little scared of the darkness. Please, she'll understand, just tell her I am here. But no! Don't look at me while you're...you know, using the bathroom.I don't like that. OK I am going to look the other way until you're finished, sir but please do know that I don't appreciate this. Hey, what are you lifting me up for? First of all, you are a man, sir. Men don't wear lipstick. Not that I know of. Do you wear lipstick, sir? I mean...I might not be able to create that special bond with you, sir. The one I have with Dee...I would like to think that I am open-minded but still...Sir...this is happening all so fast. I miss Dee....

At a hospital

Upper West Side

Where are we now anyway? You just put me in your coat pocket, which I must say was very rude of you. I was cold and those 4 cents in your pocket kept bothering me the whole way. They were very loud; you should teach them some manners. Ahh...Who am I talking to? I forgot that you don't listen anyway. What is this place? A hospital room? This is not Dee's doctor's office. Who is this lovely lady here? Is she your wife? Why did she really marry you?..Sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm sorry but she's too sweet. She shouldn't be lying here on a hospital bed. My dear sir, is she the reason you brought me in here? Would you like me to try and cheer her up? I can definitely bring back some color to her beautiful face. There you go. Let me give her a soft kiss and l can promise you she will feel more alive than ever.

There. Just a tiny bit. Well, won't you look at that sir?! She feels better already. Did you see her smile when she looked at the mirror? I, for one sir can feel the love between you two. I can see it in your eyes and in her smile. I have to tell you; I miss Dee dearly. She is my one and only but being here with you is not so bad either. Where there is love, there is me and my red. I am in the essence of love. You see, when love is happy, it screams out red laughters. When love is sad, it bleeds in red. I make it happen, sir. I turn love red, just like I turned your lovely wife's lips red and my Dee's. I hope she is safe and sound right now wherever she might be. I love her but today I will love your wife, sir. Keep me by her side and stay at the other, sir. Together, we will make your wife well. Together, you and I, we will fill her up with love and health, sir.  

Morning Journal - Week 2 Day 7

My red lipstick is missing. For the third time. I mean I know it's a great lipstick; I get it but what the hell? I don't want to keep loosing my red lipstick because all I do is create a sisterhood of abandoned sad little red lipsticks, God knows doing what on the streets of New York City. I mean, where are they right now? Are they all together partying like red lipsticks would? 

I don't abandon things, not even people. But this red lipstick and I...We seem to be having commitment issues. Where the hell art thou missing red lipsticks?..

Red Lipstick #1
LUST

-Mmmmmm...yeah baby. You look so fucking hot baby! You will absolutely rock that event. What's that? Too much? Are you kidding me?! There's no such thing as too much red lipstick baby. Noone can get enough of me. You can't get enough of me. Don't fight me baby, don't do that. Come here, let me give you another kiss. Yes, just a tit bit of a kiss to that upper left corner. There! Perfect. Oh, won't you look at that!? We're here already! Let's go baby. Let's pay this nice gentleman at the wheels and be on our merry way to this ball of yours, where by the way, I am certain that noone's red lips will look as stunning as yours, darling. Yes don't you worry! You've got me baby...yes....me. Hey!!! What the fuck!!!?! 

-Dee baby, darling. I'm down here you see. Not inside your clutch baby. I'm down here on the floor baby. Dee!! Deee?? 

Door closes. 

-Jesus! What the fuck!?!? OH MY GOD!! What a bitch!! Did she really fucking drop me in a fucking cab that's going to...I don't know...God knows! Fucking Brooklyn!! AAGHHHH!!!! I am a red fucking lipstick for God's sake!? How can anyone drop me!? I mean, not to be bitchy or anything but maybe it's a good thing she fucking dropped me. I was never going anywhere with her tiny ass lips! I am much more than just Dee lips. I am destined to be Diva lips. I don't know...Angelina Jolie lips maybe? Is she Diva enough? Jesus, she's a bag of fucking bones!! What will she be for Halloween? Blumia? No. I need more lust, more desire, more red in my next woman to shine me out. What about that child crush of my dear Woody? What was that girl's name? Scarlett? Yes, Scarlett's lips are meaty enough for me, no? I might even find myself in the middle of some hot Hollywood action. Who is she dating now? God! I hope she's done with Woody. Yuck! FUCK! I got distracted. Where am I?!..Let me think here for a second. She was going to Lincoln Center so she got off on 66th and we kept heading towards downtown. It's about 9 o'clock so there must be no traffic jam. FUCK! Today's Saturday. I couldn't have gone that far off 66th...Think, think, think. Can I take the train if jump out of this disgusting cab on 59th? Yes of course! I can take the 1 train and get off at home. I fucking hate the subway. Dee, I hate you, I hate your stupid ball, I hate this cab, I ha....WHAT IS THAT!? AGHH What the fuck now?!?! Why did you stop you idiot cab driving primate?!...Oh...oh no!! Uh-oh! Uh-ohh!!! Wait, don't you dare stepping on me! Don't! Heyyy! Are those Louboutins?! I like red. I think I like you Miss...wait...you're not a woman. You're a man and you dropped a grand on a pair of shoes?! Mmmmmm baby! I like you already. Come on, step on me! Come on!! I'm right here. You can take me. Take me baby, take me. Theeere you go! Now...let's go anywhere darling. Don't you worry, I've got your back baby.

5 hours later

Fourth of July party at a friend's of Louboutin Guy

Hamptons

-Oh my! This man is KINKY! And the booze. Don't even get me started on the booze. What was that honey-lemon mix baby? I thought it was a cough drop at first but boy give it 2 minutes and it'll do the trick for ya! Don't even wipe that dirty alcoholic mouth of yours baby. Don't you dare kiss anyone just yet. I want more booze on me!  Try the melon cucumber cocktail baby come on, try it! OOOhh boy. Stay away from bourbon darling, I like some sweet on me. You know me by now, gimme mo'e fruitzy boozy baby. UUUUUU!! What's that on me!? Men's lips?! Is a man kissing me right now baby!? Ah. This is sooo liberal of us. I love it! Wohoooooooo. Fuck Hollywood, fuck Scarlett and fuck Dee. This is LIFE. I love men. 

Another 5 hours later

Oh God! I hate men. What the fuck happened to me. I'm all bruised up, all so dry! Oh. I'm sooooooo dry. I could sure mingle with some of those low life Carmex gals right now. I heard they all got together and the best condo they could afford was still the Duane Reade shelves...Ah. So sad...Wait though, what happened here, seriously? Where are all my clothes and how many guys are in this bed right now?.. I know I'm supposed to be matte and all but I'm so dry I'm falling into pieces...I need some licking, some lip rubbing, some moist in me. Moist...Speaking of moist, I think something is licking me but it's not my guy, it's not any of these guys in here. It's...what's that smell? Oh God! This is a dog! God, get off me! Stop licking! Get!! Get outta here!! We're all naked anyway, what are you doing here?!? Stop, I'm not what you think I am. Don't bite me! Hey! HEY!!! This is my final warning to you lapdog!! Get the fuck off me! I'll hurt you! Not warning you again! HEY!! STOP fucking biting me!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! Ohhh Dee!! Oh my Dee!!!! Where are you!? Come save me Dee! Get away from me you little...

-The oh so sad End-

Morning Pages - Week 2 Day 6

December 30th

1

I've got one word for you: gym. Completely screwed  me over. I am pretty sure that the minute I set foot out the door of my gym, I am unhealthier than the minute I came in with the sole purpose of being healthy. Every time I go there -which is not very rarely- I blow my brains out exercising. Take yesterday for instance. The minute I walked in, my favorite receptionist welcomed me with a giant smile on her face and asked me "Are you here for the pilates class?" A) how can anyone say no to that smile and B) she is my favorite receptionist. She is the one I turned small talk into big conversations about hobbies and hubbies and rent in New York. You know! I might break my legs and tear up my muscles in that class but I will not say no to her. So I say "Of course! What else?" 

It's OK tough. I already I know what I'm getting myself into. It's a class with room full of Jewish New Yorker women aged anywhere from 50 to 80, whom are all wonderful girls but let's face it; I'm practically a shining star in that class. Every time I do pilates with my oldies but goldies, I feel like Kate from Lost at the end of season 1. No joke. I mean what is better than feeling like a champion at 7pm on a Sunday when the next best thing you're going to have to do is go to work on Monday?..You need some Eye of the Tiger spirit in you. I know I do and that's probably the reason why rocking my pilates class wasn't enough of a victory for me. For once in my life, I wish I felt like I've achieved enough. I'm headed to treadmills. What is wrong with me? Somebody help me. 

2

Here's the situation at the treadmill area. There are 12 of them side by side and I get on the one in the middle, followed by a nice looking gentleman getting on the one to my right 1 minute later and cute little college girl, whom I am sure is in a sorority and says "Oh my God" 57 times a day, climbs onto the one to my left 2 minutes after the guy to my right. Here we are running right next to each other with 9 other free treadmills surrounding us. I get the feeling I'm in the middle of something I didn't ask to be a part of but was chosen to moderate.

It's like by minute 7 I am supposed to say "How's it going?" to the girl followed by a wink to the guy and by minute 10, I should get down to business with the tackiest wing man (woman in my case of course) line ever. Something like, "Hey! Have you met my friend Joe over here? He likes running" to which the girl will obviously say "Oh my God, me too!" And then, I will go "Oh yeah? Man what a coincidence! Come on Joe, don't be shy! Say hi." Joe goes "Hi" like a cool man. Oh my he's so cool that the only thing our tiny girl with tiny shorts can reply with is "Hey!", all the while running of course. By minute 22 I should still be running and they should leave the gym hand in hand like characters from one of those extremely boring and unrealistic gym love stories. Luckily, this is real life and my life is not boring, yet.

3

I am not a matchmaker in the actual version of this story but I do make the girl bored out of her mind with my extremely focused running.Yes little girl, I am actually on that treadmill to run. Not to watch TV like you did for 5 minutes before you even started or to text my "Oh my God gang" while I'm taking a stroll at 0.5 speed level on the machine (I know you gym freaks out there know what speed levels I'm talking about) So after 6 minutes of effortless jogging, college girl to my left leaves. The guy to my right however is a persistent runner. Good thing I didn't hook them up. Hell, I might have even prevented another divorce from happening! Double fist pump. I am kicking ass today. Speaking of which, my ass starts to hurt because I've been running for 20 minutes now. Like I said, what is my problem!? 

It seems like the more I run in my own focused way, the more competitive -agitated even- my running neighbor seems to get. He is constantly increasing his speed and the faster he runs, redder his face gets. I for one, am not in the mood for giving heart attacks to strangers. By the time his face gets purple, I decide to put an end to this. I've had enough running and enough drama for a casual Sunday night. What does he do then? The minute I switch to cool down mode, he stops running. I always knew there was an unspoken connection established between people who run side by side but what the hell?! He will just stop as soon as I'm done and walk out on me and our silent running pact? First the college girl and now the psycho runner? Long day at the gym, long day.

Back at home, it takes me only 2 minutes to crash into the couch in our living room, pretending to watch our favorite show, Bob's Burgers with my husband while in fact going into my second level rem sleep. He of course finishes the show, remembers all the good jokes of the episode to tell me next morning, turns off the lights, locks the door and makes sure I am buried neck deep under covers. His level of affection is directly proportional to his efforts of covering every inch of my body with blankets. So I am in fact, very happy to be roasted by him in my sleep.

It takes me 10 hours and 2 cups of coffee to finally figure out why I've been singing a specific song the next day:

Psycho Killer

Qu'est Que C'est

Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better

Run run run run run run run away

After all, I can't deny that I have a gym connection with a certain Jewish pilates mafia and purple-face runners. I love my gym! In fact, I probably love any gym anywhere, minus the exercise part. 

Morning Pages - Week 2 Day 4

1

I started my exercises, thinking exercises. You know, the kind that brings you back to your most awful and most wonderful memories and make you remember shit from the past so that you don't leave any pages unturned and carry the weight over to today. Yes, that kind. It's not fun and it's vastly personal so I'm still debating whether or not to share stuff that happened to me and obviously might not mean the same things to you. It's hard to depersonalize your  own past and put it out in the open in present day as if it's somebody else's past, somebody else's story and you're just the storyteller. It takes courage and I have to have that courage because I signed up for this, nobody else. No matter how hard some parts of this 12-week process are, I said I would do this so I will deal with it. In another blog post, not today. 

One thing I will tell you though is that Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way, pushes the reader to believe that s/he is a very talented and creative individual, whom needs to be reminded of his/her capabilities; and reminding begins with you. You have to remind yourself that you are talented so that your talent's shy little head can start poking around. Reminding in my case means writing. So everyday I sit down and write stuff like Oh I am so talented, I am a brilliant writer, I do this so well and so on. When you do this, you are supposed to provoke your Debbie Downer side so that it starts speaking out. That side is what keeps you blocked, or trapped or whatever you might want to call your problem, so you want to work on eliminating it. The more you write how great you are, the more that side will try to convince you of the opposite. I didn't believe it at first but even I was caught off guard when I found myself thinking I write like shit as I was completing my 20th sentence writing "I am a brilliant writer". It was so sudden and sharp but quiet at the same time, talking way back in my mind, my Debbie Downer whispered that I wrote like shit. 

2

Probably because I did see results in exact order that Julia Cameron explained, I decided to just go with it. So now, I sit down at the kitchen table every morning writing I am a brilliant writer for at least 25 times, waiting for my dark side to speak up. The idea here is that dark side has a reason to have moved into your head. What is it? Discover it, deal with it and get rid of it. Easier said than done. I did figure out a few memories already. Now the only thing I need to do is invent a time machine, go back in time, destroy that memory, make sure it never happens or differently if it must, get back on your machine and come back to present, where you already are a famous writer because those bad memories that kept you blocked this whole time, never really happened. Simple, no?

No. So what? I don't know. I've fucking given up on trying to know everything, to be Ms Know It All. I don't know but I'm hoping Julia will tell me in the following weeks and if she doesn't? Screw it, I will have written hundreds of pages of good morning blabber. I would take that over not writing any day under any circumstances. So really, with or without answers, we all win here. I am not trying to sell you on this book by the way, no worries. Salesmanship stops when I get a pen in my hands. Other than those precious times though, I can't stop selling something. I am always either selling an image or a vision or an opinion or worst case scenario a product. Aren't you? Screw you! Yes, you are. We all are always constantly selling something and the problem, personal dilemma, depression, whatever it may be for you, starts when you don't believe in what you're selling. 

So you've just told your best friend that you're in love with your boyfriend when in fact you can't even stand his being and you know you can't. The only way for you to accept that person goes through you changing him. Oh you're so screwed. You'll probably waste a long time of yours and his, not to mention you will add to both of your misery. But go ahead tell your friend he's the one and you love him so much.

3

Wait a second, I like this, what else? Let's think about it here guys. You might have told your aunt a few days ago that you love your fucking job. You just loooove, love, love, love working at the bank as a risk analyst. LOVE IT to death. That's right, you will die doing it if you don't stop...like...yesterday because you know you don't enjoy it. You don't like it, you never have but you aunt helped pay for your college degree on finance with her hard earned money cleaning hotel rooms since 1985 so you didn't have to. Go ahead, tell her you hate it, tell her it was a mistake and her money was wasted for nothing because you don't want to do it anymore. You would rather clean hotel rooms than analyze financial risk. Tell her that! What's that? You can't?  OK wait until she's dead. Then maybe you might quit. 

Let's not forget that troubled sister you've been supporting for god knows how long. She is so delicate, so young, so clueless of the real world you have been facing since you were 16. You don't want her to go through the same troubles but at the same time you're fucking sick and tired of being the big sister, aren't you? You want to be taken care of sometimes, hell you deserve it more than she does. What did she do all her life? Be pretty, be smart, read a lot of books, eat all the right foods and wear all the right clothes? You could have done those easily but you were never given a chance, only a role. The big sister role that you are tired of playing but when your mother asks you how things are, you say "Great, she's great. I love her and I am happy supporting her. She will become a great XYZ." Bullshit, you don't even think she can make an omelet on her own but you prefer lying. Well, you shouldn't have sista. 

I don't know...Examples are endless. These are just what comes to my mind first. Love, work and family. Whatever your little lie could be, you have to stop it. Or else? Honestly, nothing would change but that is precisely the problem. 

Morning Pages - Week 1 Day 3

7:20 AM

1

Today is Friday and not just any Friday but the one before Christmas week, which can only bring us to one conclusion: today is in fact a Saturday disguised as Friday. Noone in the US will actually work. There will be heavy pretending and long idle hours. Even if you wanted to work, your colleagues or your contacts in other companies will take that away from you pretty quickly. Yeah, no one works on the Friday right before Christmas but we all make good money.

I'm thinking what if we shut down all companies on days like this and not pay white collars, what would happen? How much money would countries actually save and what would they do with that money? Would the government pocket it or would it do something that is actually useful for its citizens? I'm probably being paranoid, sorry. You see I'm from Turkey. Beautiful, beautiful place to visit. I mean where do I begin? Gorgeous scenery, unearthly food with a history that can go back so far that we could probably say this is where mankind started out its civilization journey. I love my country, love it to death. But I decided not to live there, right? Why was that? It's because of the biggest mistake we did back when we were struggling to define how to exist within a cohesive system as a society; we created governments. Why, oh why did we do that....That system is not working anymore...We need to come up with a better solution to coexist. It might have been a good solution hundreds of years ago but it's definitely not what the 21st century men need anymore.

2

About Turkey...Well let's put it this way, Turkey's government has become so dysfunctional that there is not one single societal area, where we're not suffering. Primary education - left crippled; cannot keep up with established education system's running pace thanks to technological achievements. Healthcare - barely breathing; if your doctors are overworked and your pharmacists are grossly underpaid, well overall health levels do not improve. Pretty simple, isn't it...Finance - OMG; no accountability, no transparency, no legality. Basic human rights...Freedom of speech...Free press...Gender equality...Religious freedom...Urban development...Improvement of life expectancy....I mean I will stop here. Like I said, I cannot think of one single area, where Turkish society is not suffering right now. Is that to say that US is doing a much better job than Turkey - or any other country- in all of these areas of concern? Phew. Absolutely not all of them, but some of them to some degree. 

Having lived outside the US for 24 years, I know very well that there used to be a huge misconception about living in the US. To outsiders, life here seemed...well...richer, right? And more colorful, better even! Roads were rainbow colors and traffic police were unicorns. Well maybe not, but you get the picture. That image was wiped out clean after 9/11 and the international turmoil that followed.

I came after 9/11 in fact, knowing that it wasn't as pretty in the US as it once seemed to the world. People were poor and unhealthy -which is inevitably a never ending cycle. There were quite a few psychopaths and guns were free, which consistently kept leading to shocking school shootings that left families in unimaginable pain. And then there were natural disasters that wiped out big cities. Help was less than insufficient and people were too tired, too desperate to even feel angry. What was behind all this drama? Government.  I am telling you, we, the mankind have to come up with a new solution to continue our existence. We can keep living as separate  nations or agree that we are the same kind regardless of skin color, the way we chose the worship a higher power or culturally unique shit like how we salute each other. You know...We might do things differently but we are the same. It's not like one of us is an ant and the other is an elephant. We are all human beings.

Earth is too tired for our societal class shit. We cannot keep consuming anymore, we just have to find a way to minimize consumption. Earth is done people. We consumed it. What's next, Mars? And then what...I don't know...Thinking about us as mankind depresses me. But thinking about us as Turkish nation, also depresses me. I think the only way I don't feel too desperate about future is by thinking about us as my husband, my cat and I; and my family; and my friends. Sometimes even all that is too much and all I want to think about is me, myself and I.

3

So that is the reason I preferred an underperforming US government to a dysfunctional Turkish government. I was tired of constantly watching a suffering nation, whose only concern was "us, as in Turkish nation". For mankind to evolve, man first needs to evolve as an individual. If you're no good for yourself, you will never be good for anyone to do anything. If where I live doesn't provide me with the best means to let myself learn and evolve, I will move on. Pardon my straightforwardness but the way we used to know nationalism as it has been since beginning of time is not helping us anymore. That is not to say, we all need to lose individual cultural identities and act as one. On the contrary, we should definitely protect our identity but we need to work with each other, not against. 

I'm pretty sure that is the exact reason for many others as well to immigrate to the US . And please don't misjudge the concept of immigration. When I say immigrant, I really mean every single person living in the United States of America. Everyone here is an immigrant, it's just a matter of when, not if.

I didn't chose to live here because I thought it was a super power nor did I think unicorns controlled the traffic. I chose to live here because I wanted to evolve, be better as an individual so that I can do better things for people around me, for the country I was born in, for countries that I really like and for the world as a whole because I want the world and everyone in it to survive and thrive. You cannot survive if you don't take care of yourself.

8:09AM (I'm definitely late, shit)

Morning Pages - Week 1 Day 2

7.20AM

1

I am so not awake yet. My hands are so mushy, I can't even hold my lucky pen straight. It felt so wrong to go to work yesterday because of the day before. I was off and it wasn't even one of those cleverly calculated days off, like the Friday before a long weekend or the Thursday of New Year's eve. It was a Tuesday; so wrong according to CALTOS (Corporate America Logical Time Off Standards -just made that up, sorry) but I had a great time nevertheless. 

Anyway so the day after, I was inevitably whatsapping a lot at the office, and facebooking, and instagramming, and spotifying, and staring at the screen. I think the girls were even ignoring me on the whatsapp chat group; it could be the fact that I kept sending messages like:

"OH MY GOD I AM SOOOOOOOOOOO BORED!!" or
"ALRIGHT! That's it! I'm coming over to your workplace for the rest of the day" or

"This is such a fucked up world we're living in guys...." 

From angry to determined and then to emotional...So yes, I was ignored and it was a long day.

I keep thinking about that waitress woman, who quit her well-paying job to enjoy life and become a waitress at 32 to support herself. 32 is too young to say "Screw it, I'm just going to go my way from now on" and too old not to worry about all the kids out there fresh out of college, who will potentially do a better job for a fraction of her salary. I wonder if she's really happy and enjoying life or if this is one of those made up stories bloggers tell just to attract some attention to their blog. By story, I'm not referring to her quitting her job and becoming a waitress. I believe that part. I'm questioning if she's telling the truth about being happy. Isn't there just a tiny bit of doubt still alive deep within her heart? Is she really sleeping like a baby at night having thrown all her professional potential out the window at age 32? GOD I hope not. Her blog post was spreading too much hope to be superficial and far from truth.

2
If you can't stop lying when you write then maybe you shouldn't write. Those who express themselves with ease through writing are usually less apt at lying. That is precisely why they prefer writing at first place. Let's be honest here; when you're at work or at a friends get together or parent teacher conference, how much of your real thoughts do you keep to yourself not to disturb the socially acceptable level of human interaction and how many times do you lie within 10 minutes when you're talking to others? How many times do you lie to yourself? A lot; don't be shy. You cannot do that when you're writing. You have to tell the truth or else you will look like a big phony wannabe writer and fail. That's why I want that 32-year old woman to be telling the truth on happiness. I want her to succeed.

I can never forget what Ernest Hemingway said at an interview with the famous 

Paris Review, 

"The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in, shockproof, shit detector. This is the writer’s radar and all great writers have had it".

I always knew one could only tell the truth through writing because I, myself could never lie with a pen in my hand but it was that sentence that showed me not only do true writers not lie on paper, but they can also not be lied to. Isn't that great: to be able to see through people? Everyone is in fact so transparent that it's sad when hearts are pumping blood into brains so that mouths can spit out bullshit. You just feel like saying " Excuse me here for a second, that's not the right end for shit to come out. Let me get that for you and wipe your mouth clean. Let's chat again when you take your mouth off your tooshi". Don't you feel that a lot? I do. And what do I do if I'm face to face with that person? I politely smile and nod in understanding. So grown up, no? 

But wait a second, is it only literature where one shouldn't lie for popularity or for whatever idiotic reason? I mean, what about other forms of art? Can photographers lie about what they want to express through photography just so their work can appeal to a greater number of people?  

3

Take this chic for example. When I first saw her work, I thought it was brilliant because obviously she was depicting New York City as a jungle and its dwellers as animals. The most mundane activity like riding the subway was in fact a weird and possibly dangerous reflection in a parallel world where we were all defenseless, naked in other words. Brilliant, right? I know. But the more I looked at her photos, more disappointed I felt because it was only her! Despite all our efforts to destroy animal life, there are still more than one animal kind in the jungle. So maybe am I not on the right track anymore about what her work should evoke in human soul? Once I am derailed from the connection I established with her work of art, I can't get back in because all I can see from then on is her naughty parts.

She can be an extremely talented artist but are people really admiring her art or her tits? And fine, let's say she wants to express ideas through nudity. I'm all about a-la-naturale. Awesome. But why is it that only she poses for the photos? I mean, why the hell not use a fat, hairy guy or a cute little Jewish kid or I don't know Mexicans, Africans, Asians, freaking eskimos, I don't know. Why herself all the time? And would she do the same if she was not as hot as she is? These are all good questions to ask, right? And I'd love to be able to ask her personally one day. In the meanwhile, she's probably getting her 25,043,304th hit on her website. I think you can sell anything with a naked body but if you can get people to value your work because you undressed your soul, you become timeless.

But what do I know?..I'm just a white collar girl, who's officially late for work. Can I still see through you and not buy your bullshit? Probably so. 

8:01AM

Morning Pages - Week 1 Day 1

6.22 AM

1

Here I start again, back to square one. My mission is to throw up all that troubles me into this piece of paper so that my creative juices can flow freely all day long. And of course there's the blogging part. WTF!? Should I be proud to present my third freaking blog to the world or ashamed that I might have won the most inconsistent blogger award of the decade? Not really sure on that...The important thing is to try...no I'm just kidding, it's not the important thing. If you're attempting to do something, you might as well try to be the best at it. Don't get me wrong, I AM a proud member of Generation Y, with a "what matters is trying not winning" type of world view; I just couldn't quite figure out yet how to love my failures as well as successes. I'm probably bullshitting. Sorry. What I meant was I am scared shitless of failure and I'm trying to disguise it under "I don't like it..." and I know many of you do too but let's keep focusing on me for another 10 minutes. 

Is it because of fear of failure that I picked an easily acceptable line of work in society instead of what I was always meant to do? And by society, I really mean family and friends. Do you remember that riskier, sweeter path to the most devilish dreams that we all had for ourselves but our parents kept underlining security was above all? Yeah, that. When you're a kid, it's cute to want to be singer. But as soon as you're done with K-12, singing is not cute anymore or wanting to be a dancer is childish at most or painting can only mean you'll be a starving artist begging for change on the streets? WOW. With such imagination, your parents should have been artists, not you! Mine never said such things but I was still too scared. What the hell!? Not only do I not have any excuses for not doing what I wanted but also at the end of the day it seems like I'm the only one to blame for not doing it. I'm happy to take on that responsibility but at what cost? Disrupting the peaceful routine of the family I'm trying to build in an effort to fulfill my teenage dreams before I reach 30 ?! Maybe, yes. Am I brave enough to take on that responsibility? Fuck no, but I'm trying. 

2

This thing that I'm doing here will last 12 weeks. I will write all this cry baby stuff everyday for 12 weeks straight and we will find out together at the end if I can succeed in figuring out what the hell it is I am meant to do in this life and if I actually have the guts to pursue it however challenging the road may be. If I ever slip, even for a day, please do e-slap me in the face and help me get back on track. Better yet, if you want to start trying with me, come along and we'll be cry babies together. Remember, all you have to do is write down 3 pages of whatever comes to mind everyday for 12 weeks. (and there's more but that's the tricky part and there's always a tricky part because this is real fucking life, not the inside of Alice's Rabbit Hole.)

Problem is I do not know if this is what I will always and forever want to do. Will I still be dying to write when I'm 40? Or better yet, why am I questioning what will or will not happen 15 years from now (OK, 12 years. Jesus!) Forget 40! Forget 30 even! There should only be today. To - day (Although 29 is my lucky number so I have serious expectations from next year, just so you know). I mean if someone told me at 18 that I would be living on the Upper West Side of New York City as a married woman with a husband and a tiger -in the form of a cat- in our tiny but tasty (please!) apartment with 2 bedrooms, I would have thought s/he was high. Or that I was high for that matter. If that same person told me I would make my living from finance and not literature, I would have been convinced this time that I am definitely high. 

3

It would have probably sounded beyond boring to 18-year old Dee because her absolute rule was to never work at a 9 to 5 job, right...To never have to sit at a desk in an office for 5 days/week. Well, isn't it ironic...Don't you think?..That is EXACTLY what I'm doing, except I can never leave at 5pm; more like 8pm...So yes, I changed, my expectations from life, the idea of life being limitless, people around me, ideas in and around my head, my city, almost everything in my life changed since I was 18, except for one thing, which is now my constant. The urge to write is still here with me. That alone is good enough of a reason to try The Artist's Way.

Let's get one thing straight about this workshop by the way. It won't always and only be about 3 pages of daily "Oh my God I don't know who I am anymore" shit. There's this exciting part of it called The Artist Date, where I will go on solo dates with myself - or my inner artist rather. And since this is one the best cities on the planet when it comes to arts and creativity, I will soon start telling you all about all the interesting and unique exhibitions at world famous museums or about the very exclusive performance of this unique, indie rock band, the lead singer of which will of course be playing a giant African horn/pipe. I know he will be playing that because there's this cool white guy, who comes to Times Square station every so often to play it on the subway and absolutely mesmerizes everyone around him. We are of course mesmerized by the sounds and saliva that find its way out of that giant horn. That guy was in fact my inspiration for a crazy New York artistic example. So there, I'm dedicating today's 3 pages to you, Mr. Very White guy, who plays the giant African horn on the subway to make godly sounds and saliva. If only I had a photo of you but I don't. Here's a photo that shows what you play. This is the kind of extreme that will dominate my artist dates. Love, love my dates, and writing, and New York, and all of the above. 

Source: http://forward.com/articles/108771/from-the-kol-israel-orchestra-to-a-pygmy-choir/

Morning Pages from September 5, 2013

6:20 AM

1

I'm up. I wonder why I am not questioning being up right now. I thought I would because that woman said so. What's her name...I forgot now...I was never good with names anyway. But I cannot go off topic right now because some part of the purpose here is to learn how not to wander off when I'm writing. I can't help but wonder what the reason is for my limitlessness when trying to stay within a single subject. Is it because I start with already built in presumptions in my head about how a certain subject should be? Do I overthink things before I even begin putting ideas into actions? Am I one of those people who know it all? Is it because of this reason that all I touch turn into shit before it turns into anything. Wow. Just when I was worrying about how to find three full pages of words, I'm about to finish the first. It's raining emails on my phone by the way. NY 1 morning weather report says "Good morning Dee. Today will be emaily. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the week before, or the month before. Fuck. The year before. Your life will always be emaily dear Dee." 

What? Shit. Company A is trying to tell me something but I couldn't care less. I ignore. I'm choosing to ignore Company A right now, and rest of my emails. And just like that, I have 90 fucking emails sitting in my inbox waiting to be replied to. It took me as short as 3 days to fall behind in my emails. I hate emails. My boss says she had a thousand of them waiting at some point but she worked through the long weekend trying to clear them all out. Now, she has 125. It's been three days since we started work again though. If she accumulates 50/day, she should be at 275 again. That's back to one fourth of the original 1000 she had. Wow she's screwed, which means I will be screwed at some point. Right now, I'm still at 90. I can keep ignoring. 

2

It's 6.28am. I finished 1 page in 8 minutes, which means I will need at least half an hour every morning to do this. I thought of calculating how much time was required last night right before I went to sleep. There I go again, opinionated already how my "system" should be before I even begin trying my system. Am I confusing being opinionated with something else? Do I think that people around me are pretty heavily opinionated? My friends, my family. Do they want to improve themselves ceaselessly or are they satisfied with what they've got so far? Is it enough to keep them going until the rest of their lives, whenever that might be. Like my friends back in Turkey...do they all want to move to Istanbul because it's the only town favorable for change and opportunities? For big fish/ big sea kind of stuff...Where else can one go if one doesn't want to stay put in Turkey? Nowhere really. Jesus It's all about titles and attributes these days. What titles have I ever had? Right now I have a big one, professionally at least. I love that word: professional. Fuck titles. I feel like a 15 year old girl most of the time. A 15 year old, who is very much overwhelmed by the titles and responsibilities of a 28 year old. Only 2 more to go and then my life is pretty much over. STOP IT. Life begins at 30. 30 is the new fucking 21. They're going to build a chain brand soon called Forever 31 and they will sell sexy lingerie and smart books. Right next to each other too because you know, beautiful people are also smart and need to read. Anyway what else...oh yeah titles...

3

I'm also a wife. It's been about 15 days now that I owned that title. World's most difficult fucking title. Wife. Wait though...Something doesn't quite add up here. If wife is a more difficult title than Area Director of Revenue and if takes much more responsibility to carry that title, then what the hell am I doing every day from 8am to 8pm in that black/gray/white office and why am I not at home? Well , could it be bling bling? I guess when first idiotic men created "money" they never stopped to think 6 billion people would wake up everyday only to think how much they hate money. That's what we do. We act, we don't think. Let's think here for a change. What would you do if money didn't exist. What would I do? I would write fictional stories about facts. It's been 21 minutes now actually since I started writing. So why the hell am I complaining still? But she said I would do this...Julian Cameron - and I swear I didn't Google it, I just remembered- I think I got smarter after 2.5 pages of nonstop blabbering. That's what it is, pure blah blah blah. No cohesion, no grammer, no beginning no end...that's exactly how she wants it though."Don't worry about anything, just write 3 pages everyday, no breaks and no typing. Handwritten" It's pretty much old school diary keeping, only loaded with 21st century New York problems. I also used my lucky pen, not sure if a lot of people have a lucky pen but mine is very fine and has blue ink. The kind that high school teachers use when they grade papers. Teachers in Turkey specifically. Fuck, I miss that place and all the bullshit in it. It's my bullshit after all. It's been about 3 years and 2 months since I was last there.  My mom visits all the time. In fact she will come again in 9 days with my aunt. It'll be us girls hanging out together just like old days and I would love to write about the old days but I'm amazed at the fact that I'm nearing end of page 3 and I have at least 3 more pages full of random stuff I want to talk about. I'm helplessly watching the thoughts on my mind racing to become words on my paper. I will stop now.

6.49AM

What is this?

I woke up. I thought I would feel ridiculous sitting at the kitchen table at 6 in the morning while I could be snuggled up in bed with my husband and start snoozing my alarm clock around 7 until 7.45 BUT I didn't.

I thought I would question in depth the necessity of waking up at 6 am only to try (and possibly fail) to scribble down bits and pieces of writing that has an off chance of coming close, at best, to literary writing BUT I didn't. I thought all these things because she said I might have. Julia. Julia Cameron. She's the author of the book that got me doing this at first place- the morning pages as she refers to them. The book is called The Artist's Way.

Am I an artist? She said I would ask that question. The answer is "I hesitate before I can answer" (She also said this would happen, she's a clever one I'm telling you) If I cannot say yes then the answer must be no. But no. It's not no because I cannot answer NO either. What am I? Just another human being trying to figure shit out. Since Julia already correctly presumed 3 questions (and answers) I asked myself, I decided to try her routine a little.

It starts with me, waking up. If I can get my ass off that bed and drag my feet to the kitchen table, where I sit down and write down 3 full pages of early morning blabber before I take any caffeine into my system, I succeed. As simple as that. No other rules. No literary concerns, no grammer mistakes, no content guidance. Just me, three pages of blank paper and a pen. Nada mass, except morning pages are not meant to be shared with anyone or even read by me. That is the big rule in this game. I...like rules better when I call them. So my rules for morning pages will be:

1. Be purely de(e)caf.

2. Be as honest and open as you possibly can (that means I WILL be honest. No offense)

3. Share the heck out of it.

Parental discretion is absolutely advised and on a more personal note, please remember that all art is born from real life and you are a real person so please, don't take shit personally.

Let's go.