Fun bag Friday pics coming soon!
I decided to go with a small D / full C – like I was before, well except the times I was a B or DD or when nursing, F!
Especially in case I have radiation – which I’m hoping not – and because I’m a complete responder for chemo (negative path report!) I get to have that conversation. Fortunate!
But I feel like I’m being stretched out and also my arms not used to boobs being there so they keep bumping.
In any case, the politicals have been entertaining and I’m way outside of my comfort zone – something I enjoy tremendously if smiles are indicators.
Actually it’s just more energy efficient to be chipper and feels better, lol.
Anyway, the following is a little something I wrote up yesterday – part of my stream of consciousness writing, which was on my bucket list I realized after becoming fascinated with it when I read aboot Janes Joyce’ Ulysses. I never did get through it but the whole idea was brilliant to me.
On the topic of copywriting but I’m gonna start with copy cats. Love cats.
So … I’m sure we will talk more about this later but
Tata for now,
Memo to me: The Best Copy Cats
My Copy Cats Copywriting Concept
I really want to have something named copy cats but in a good way – because cats are amazing – and copywriting is a big thing – and I think a nice spin on copying is….
Original copy – short for the words that are written to inspire someone to take action, otherwise known as copywriting.
And where you must have an writer, you must have an editor.
So copywriting includes copyediting – preferably by another set of eyes.
Sometimes you can sleep on your writing and have something like another set of eyes. Especially not anything like the eyes on another human body.
Ideally this person is an expert in the language that best communicates the information that helps the reader achieve success in enjoyment or fulfillment of some task that the information helps them with.
I’m going to drill down on expert.
Right now expert is something anyone can really say because technically no one is better at being you than you even when you are at your “worst”.
So you’re an expert at something regardless.
But again with the external focus, we look to the outside world to validate our expert status in a way that sustains our breath,
And there we give a little powers way.
Oh but we don’t freely talk aboot the smaller shifts in power because they’re not important.
And we are so far from ourselves sometimes that we gravitate towards anything that soothes our souls,
Never minding that we keep the balances by poisoning ourselves just enough as a reward so that our mental health suffers and we cannot even tell except that suddenly our world looks scary …
Especially the things that are close up.
When mental health suffers, a part of you dies a little. But remember, we shed skin, hair, words, water, poop.
Parts of us die in tiny ways all the time. The more we suffer about it, the more we die.
The more we allow ourselves to find in death a connection to the infinite, and there see things a little better, a little more clearly.
Because whenever one of us dies they take with them our pain and grief and poison.
But we can refuse to let it go and we can also recreate the sorrow.
Or we can let our souls taste the divinity of eternity even as a concept.
If your faith can’t bring you to believe in the concept of an afterlife, I don’t blame you.
I’ve not been wowed by the journey or the example or even the idea of heaven as presented to me.
So vague. So far. So distant.
There are believers who believe – and there are people who cling to the semantics that hold together beliefs that no longer work – it’s a very convoluted energy.
So when a big part of my life was praying with people who were perfectly happy Buddhists in my opinion, getting them to ask Jesus in their hearts, I cringed.
I didn’t think Jesus minded them being the way they were.
And I thot it was silly to count souls that I knew where people praying with me because I was little and cute.
That felt wrong.
I understand about seeds being planted etc.
But surely we could have a classier way of going aboot this like wealthy with a cause instead of me asking people to donate food.
Other times I didn’t care at all.
But anytime I felt unjustly treated, and mistreated sometimes too, all those thoughts came running back. The feelings too.
I’m pretty sure I was never very normal. Sometimes I forgot aboot it, but if I wasn’t busy my mind was always looking for engagement.
Once I went to another house. It was called The Combo.
Huge place, lots of kids. Exciting.
I think I was 8 by now because I was happy to go play with the other kids instead of babysitting.
The kids were playing daddy and mommy.
Oh come on. Lol.
So I found some other kids watching cartoons.
Maybe it was Fox & the Hound.
To be continued …
Oh what the heck…