Well, you mind, some, but you cannot alter your course and you'd be a right fool to try, lest you set things off course and be hurt much, much worse...at the very worst, you are never hurt at all. I don't fancy that a type of life worth having.
My darling friend, a new blogger with very true stories of being hurt and becoming real, gets the funistrada (not real, you know) honor of being not only the reason for the rebirth of this squeaky old thing, but of having been hurt, wildly and beyond my own imagination in a way that has made her one of the realest women I know.
the Velveteen Hoodrat is most worthy of your blog roll and of a counting, twice over, of all the blessings you have ever had...more importantly, it is indeed the greatest resource that I have when I need reminding that I am defined -- Made Real -- by both my good and my bad.
If I know her as I hope I do, I hope also that mucking up the order in which you devour her writing pisses her off -- and how! Because she gives as good as I do and if you know me as I hope you do: Ain't nobody can give quite like me in a fury...except the Rabbit, the Rabbit is a force and a flower and a bitch and a beauty and when you read -- out of order, mind you, but I'll deal with the Rabbit, go on now -- the story that compelled me to know the woman who can withstand such insanity without so much as an apology or an excuse, you will go back and read it all and if you thank me...well, I'm not here to be petted, I just love you and want to give you presents.
Presents aren't always chocolates, perfumes or diamonds: Sometimes you get socks, underwear and a new toothbrush.
