Random is as random does. We're all shadows.
I am not 100% honest on these posts, I feel. Instead, they end up being a random amalgam of whatever is on my mind– which turns out to be a lot of frass, most of the time.
Sometimes, I wish I could truly speak my mind: really let it all out and shock you and entertain you and tell you that life is an illusion and that we all watch a shadow play, and we seldom if ever venture beyond that, much like Plato wrote about.
I wish I could post some of the stranger and racier pictures I’ve snapped– strange pictures of my back or the beauty mark there, or of my underwear around my ankles, and of cuts and scabs, and of truly ugly and/or revealing things such as what I look like first thing in the morning.
But as I write down all this, I realize I lack something– something like courage.
Being an artist not only requires integrity, but also a very large suspension of disbelief. Or perhaps just a gingerly placed finger over the “bullshit” button. You seldom press it: everything around you becomes art. Art, beautiful art, so much in the eye of the disgusted but captivated beholder.
But I feel I am not honest enough –brave enough– to be an artist: I pine over the impossible and I giggle at others for dreaming big and being socially responsible; I scoff at the royal wedding and yet I watch and discuss it, ad nauseam; I get drunk on mimosas and suffer the stupid hangover not too much later afterward, instead of keeping on drinking and sucking it up and making a beautiful and terrible mess.
My nails chip and they also collect dirt that looks unsightly; few things are wonderful around me; my mascara runs and gives me an allergy, and it is all more sad clown than retiring diva.
My hair, it goes flat, but not before it frizzes. There is nothing artistic or painfully beautiful about a frizzy head of waves, let me tell you.
I don’t arouse torrid passions in random men, or women; I can’t even hold a steady gaze with someone I truly fancy, opting instead for averting their gaze altogether and leaving without saying goodbye, as if eye contact would kill me; I mild-manneredly issue compliments; I grin instead of guffawing; my heaving bosom went away with my ability to produce milk to feed a small human; I am awkward when I think I’m elegant, and stiff when I think I’m dignified; I am still stuck in high school, where the one boy who was brave enough to ask me out on a date must have thought I was too boring after all, and started dating a happy, vain and bubbly girl a couple of weeks after we had our first date; and finally, I don’t tell the man who’s currently making me suffer to fuck off: the most I can muster is a whispered, staid and wilted, “I hate you”, so the children won’t listen.
I can’t competently mix green, or purple, and I view it as an allegory of my life (too much blue, and not enough).
But I can write a semi-embarrassing post telling you my failures as a human.
Maybe that’s enough art for today.
A Daily Dose of Zen Sarcasm! 
I object! You aren’t posting your failure as a human, you’re posting about the failings of being human.
All of us have that side – the petty, mean, sly, clumsy, envious, you list any negative attribute and it’s here side. How we are as humans is shown in how we overcome that side. We will never all be pretty, graceful, generous, forgiving, etc. people but we can all try to be better than our negative sides want us to be.
Speaking the truth completely doesn’t work with a race that has emotions. Civility, manners, consideration for others’ feelings, these are needed to keep us from constantly hurting one another. However, when someone isn’t being civil and courteous, then the truth needs to be presented to that person. You don’t need to be more blatent than necessary however I think telling the man who is currently making you suffer to back off is something you should do. Just, obviously, not in front of the children. I’m sure you can find another way to get your message across if necessary.
As for these posts, whether you’re 100% honest or not doesn’t matter. If what is in your head to post is frass, then it is still coming from you. That’s why we keep coming back to read. 🙂