Cause who doesn't want to k.i.s.s.

I am living simply. Eating simply. My diet consists of rice and beans, pizzas, chilis, breads, pastas, delicious kale/spinach smoothies and whatever else my mom decides to make. Because all said things above are homemade and fantastic. Even the dough. My mother is like a young Bobby Flay (minus the genitals). My stomach thanks her everytime I open the fridge. I think this diet has been having reciprical effects on how I live. Or (more likely) how I live is influencing my diet choices. And health my taste buds are winning.

I don't know. I am not sure what is happening really. I feel complete. In a way that is foreign to me. There is nothing on my agenda that I do not want to do really because I made it up. And most days it is made the day of. I work, food shop, watch a movie, read, sit, nap, walk the dog, think, shave, etc. Simple.

Check out my foxy and ferocious non-feline friendly friend slumbering on the equally as fiery, vintage Power Rangers comforter.

I still live with my mom and though there is a stigma attached with twenty and living with parents (and I see the reasoning behind it) I really enjoying being with. It is like connecting with my best. Seeing where the feet that taught me to walk walked and just hearing stories or how she lives. Simple things. Family things. Connecting with a part of my history that I think I missed out on when I was younger. I mean I don't want to live with my mom forever but for right now, it is perfect. I am satisfied with who I am being.

But I wish I was doing more. Writing more, singing more, math more, physics more, dance more, talk more, play more, draw more, knit more. And do more better also. But I know all these things are just a decision a way and that they change anytime I say so. So say so.

Talking with an ex-girlfriend last night I realized that I become nervous when speaking to anyone from my past whom I have had an intimate relationship with. When I see that name pop up on my phone screen my hands become a bit wet and heart races a little and I have no idea why. Even if it is not an intimate person from my past. Just a friend calling. But with strangers, I am fine. Not even a hint of nervousness. Maybe it is because I subconsiously think that that person has a perception of me that I have to live up. That I have to be as cool or attractive or clever or funny as I have ever been. I have to live up to myself. And with strangers there is no past me, there is only whoever I am now. And it is so not worth the nervousness. Man, you should just drop.

I think you have to choose carefully the things you carry. They can either weigh you down or help you move forward.

Simply,

anthony