Forrest, where are my f'ing chocolates?

All right, a little alliteration appreciation . . . .

Laughing, learning, loving: in the life of the most marvelous Ms.Meggan Ann, these are the premiere priorities. If you're not daringly doing a dash of those three things (simultaneously is superior!), you're not living lustily. And lusty living is far finer and more fabulous than boring being!

I never thought I'd ever say that I'm glad the IMOF is almost over . . . . but I kinda am. I should have listened to Luis when he read my giant list of IMOF plans and told me, "I got tired just reading that. I can't take it."

Week 1 was off to a dazzling start . . . intrigue, action, mystery, booze - what more can you ask for? Par for the proverbial course . . . of course. Week 2 escalated into a full-on frenzy when a project at work got out of hand and had me working about 80 hours . . . and then Friday night's official IMOF Kickoff, which was hi-la-ri-ous and FA-NTA-BULOUS! (Did you expect any less?!!)

Now I'm taking my Monday test on Thursday, I'm just now finishing the gruntwork of El Proyecto, I'm behind on my taper week runs, I'm behind on my research, and I STILL - yes, STILL - haven't booked my hotel for Philly. It's like every single aspect of my life has aligned to bring me the maximum amount of action possible for the IMOF.


Forrest Gump was wrong - life is not like a box of chocolates. It's like a f'ing 18-wheeler with no jake brake rolling down Pike's Peak. Thanks a lot, jackass. I was expecting chocolate and I got diesel fuel.

Tonight? Well, I'm writing while dining, then taking a rest, because I promised Das Nate we'd hit up Buck65 at Phat'n'Jazzy at The Social. And God knows I'd be collapsing right now if it weren't for my friends holding me up, so when they say "I'm dragging you out!", you better believe I snap to attention! One vow I made: to never forget how lucky I am to have the people in my life that are in it. -I'm sure I could have elucidated much more eloquently. ;)-

The lamp that lights my mind is filled with fractures, and from behind some of them shines the me I was before. I figured I'd left her some years ago, but she appears every now and then . . . at times like these . . . and I have to remind myself that she is not me, and I am not she.

There is a great difference between settling and settling down.

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