While the idea of living in a big house with a group of thirteen strangers conjured up images The Real World, the reality was, no one ever stopped being polite. There were no episodes of binge drinking or drunken brawls, roommate roulette or random hook-ups, cat fights or salacious scandals. Well, at least not that I was aware of.
My fresh blowout went wild with the wind as I gazed from behind my sunglasses at the technicolor turquoise water. I was mesmerized by the wake behind the boat which reminded me of elaborate Busby Berkeley choreography and the ever-changing kaleidoscope of memories that trailed behind me like bygone eras.
Okay, maybe I'm not a total badass when it comes to dealing with emotional funks. Especially the kinda funks that are shoved into my life via big and unexpected changes to my comfort zone. The kinda changes I was either consciously trying to avoid or had never even crept up into my radar. The kind the Universe throws at me like a sucker punch which, I assume, is to keep me on my toes, living in the moment and full of gratitude.
Whether or not I'm going through a bonafide mid-life crisis is uncertain. I mean maybe it's pure coincidence that I'm about to turn forty-four and life just happens to suck at the moment. But the cool thing about being a true Indie Girl and a grown-ass woman, is my ability to acknowledge life's current suckiness and its vortex of negative emotions without losing myself in it.
Usually, our post-sex silence is almost as intoxicating as the sex. Our bodies remain blurred together and magnetized by some type of cosmic energy that floods my spirit with warm sensations of "yes". That type of hushed connection feels absolutely delicious and completely non-threatening... for awhile.
