Along with my ability to generate copious amounts of ear wax, I inherited from my father a propensity to cook up some gourmet negativity and then just sit and stew in it until it turns cold and gives me goosebumps. I’ve heard for a long time that a good counter to negative thoughts is to feed yourself positive ones. That’s my plan for the new year.
AND, at the same time, I don’t think I can look at myself in a mirror and say things like, “I say YES to life!” and “I am my own unique self—special, creative, and wonderful!”
Those are for people who think small. I’m coming up with some affirmations of my own:
- I am glorious to behold.
- I’m better than everyone else at most things and equally good as everyone else at the remaining few things.
- HelLO, Sex Monster!
- The fruit of my womb will be the next Messiah.
- I will win the lottery without even buying a fucking ticket. That’s how badly wealth wants to be mine.
- Tim Riggins’ heart flutters at the sound of my name.
- My spoken and written words enlighten, entertain, and edify all audiences. And cure some diseases.
- My abs should be bronzed.
- Even hard-core Christians covet all that junk in my trunk.
Please add your own in the comments section.
my poetry is so brilliant it does not even have to be read. just holding the book can cause one to faint.
Absolutely, Margo. Every time I pick your book up off the shelf, I wake up 45 minutes later with a bump on my head and my pants on backwards.
well *I* am such a fucking amazing writer that people will not even need to read my manuscript in order to publish it – they’ll just sense that it’s out there, in the universe, and contact me out of the blue to say “We MUST publish you! We’ve had a sign from God! Who the fuck cares what your book is actually about?”
Oh, and speaking of bronzing body parts: the tips of my fingers will become relics kept in a gold box in some Catholic saint’s mausoleum – these are the fingertips that typed the poems that brought all Catholic priests to justice!”