Hey darlings. I feel like ranting right meow. About what? Nothing in particular except for everything because everything is annoying omg right?
Please tell me you get that this blog is 25% bullshit, 25% satire, 25% Raymi Lauren’s misguided opinions, and 25% REALNESS. I just mean that when I’m being stupid it isn’t real. When I am being mean, I am being funny. Pretty much any time that you disagree with me you are disagreeing with the shadows, with quite frankly – an emotional lunatic, who sits down here and just dumps her brain out for an hour then feels COMPLETELY RAYMAZING for awhile afterward.
Here now in this court of blog, are the bonafide factual reasonsings for the aforementioned hysterics: I am moving. It is my birthday tomorrow (at midnight but who is counting). I AM ON MY PERIOD. I was on Naked News (super exposed).
Kind of normal stuff (reasons) no?
ANYWAY. This is the part of the blog where we turn it all around. When you are going through hell you just keep going. Or, you let something off your chest to feel better. Mis-direct? You just blog. On with the juice!
This weekend I wanted to disappear like usual. I am sitting in my same spot by the lake that I always sit acting like this is not really happening. The last time I might ever write anything worthwhile here and suddenly I really give a shit.
I really need new pants I do look like a hobo. Baggy on ass and hips. People hate people who complain about being skinny. I am liking how my shorts fit on me now though obviously, a bit bigger on you can make you look tinier. Not in the ass though. Ass is big right now. #squats.
Psycho soccer mom face.
I guess I kinda do lead a bit of a Morticia Addams lifestyle no, or the chick Winona Ryder played in Edward Scissorhands. Oh so emo so swoon! I DID do an ice dance for burlesque in tribute fyi btw, so.
I pour blood all over myself too. And on the crowd and Paddy Jane. #memories.
So anyway. I think I need to figure out what my purpose is in life. I am not money panic stricken, I am not “old” (kind of am) and I have blog gigs on the go. I get to write about myself, my life but I need to fill this life with more I feel. I need to focus like a Jedi on one thing, craft… something. Aside from always working on myself exhaustively in a massively shallow sense, I am thoughtful and generous in other capacities but I think I need to do a next big thing again. I know what it is. Do you? (comedy)+(get hotter) and (write more) = get Raymous.
This is how we run in the spring. In two pairs of pants, three layers beneath a winter coat. Hat mitts and scarf. But once you get going you warm up. It’s great for thinking. Each song I listen to and run speed walk dance to I am like THIS IS IT MAN this is my NEXT DANCE VIDEO SONG then I forget all about it because I am tired of my ipod list my niece wiped out my last one of and put her music on.
When I start recklessly eating I know something is up. We are both in good shape and it’s kind of bad to egg each other on like this. It’s purely from stress. I do a lot of good to counter-act the food cheating though. My body looks good in real life. It’s just camera is a whole different ball game. No one sees the difference because no one actually sees me outside of photos. My youtube videos have me looking realer and lithe I feel. I don’t even know what the hell I am trying to say right now and I don’t care this is just Raymazing girl therapy don’t forget.
Do you guys wanna know what my litmus social media test is?
If I post something and no one reacts but I KNOW I looked hot, babely, it was funny, whatever, etc etc I just blast it on ello and then a bunch of people chime in there. Yeah ello might not ever really happen but I am famous there so… someone called me a 10 in this pic. You just have to score simple stupid victories in the circles you run all over the place online to justify and warrant more postings of selfies and that is why we all do it.
It’s less a litmus test and more an obsessive compulsion, extra thing I feel obliged to do. Some people pinterest. I tumblr and ello. I enjoy the artistic outlet because it makes me feel in charge of my artistic destiny, it is a time killer in between bf time and blogging, eating, plotting, and scheming and sometimes mischief. A lot of times mischief. just jk. Which is an absolute lie because the mischief is the backbone on which blogs exist.
I am done being a headcase now I will suck on a coffee crisp to relax sorry for taking you to some scary places.
On Friday is was like Dancehall Washington though. Life in your early thirties is 25% fun and 75% recovering from the fun and being a whiner because of it and having to be a foodie instagrammer because you have no other energy for anything else oh and watching tv too which you then tweet about.
We dance partied friday, chill Saturday’d, then I did some moving yesterday. Good balance.
I showed up like this.
Hello there craptain I am here for the good times.
I got my monthly which everyone was really happy about.
I know I am getting it when I start eating like a wild animal. We were dancing with a bag of chips. One of us more than the other ha. Not me I mean. ok who cares fuck
I took down my vine art piece. Happy to redo it again this time without buckles in the canvas.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand done. Just reminding you that it’s my birthday again in case you forgot from all that stuff you just experienced. xo bye #movingstressed!