So, I like to play dress-up sometimes.

Business time Oli.

Business hours are over. xD

I’m ordering a monocle.
And.
I really want to go back to that Army Surplus store on Haight and check out Top Hats.

Somebody needs to be the lady to my cross-dressing gentleman self.
For sure.

No questions. No questions. No excuses and no lies.

The fifth rule about Project Mayhem is you have to trust Oli.

If you caught that modified reference, high five.

You know, I feel pretty fucking good right now.
And it’s really interesting, because not thirty minutes ago I felt like complete garbage.
I think I started feeling better in the middle of my American Sign Language class when my brain gloriously muse’d back on.
I was talking to someone yesterday and mentioned how my brain was fresh out of ideas.
Then. Poof.
I love how that works.

I was just sitting there, and I just started to loop Imogen Heap’s song Whatever in my head.
It made me feel so much better.
Because it’s totally how I feel right now. Totally.
It’s so satisfying to have all my thoughts collected into a song.
I’m not crazy if someone else thought the same thing I’m thinking. xD

And now I’m sitting here, actually playing the song, and I’m laughing because it feels so goddamn liberating to clearly express what I couldn’t. Even if it’s through someone else’s words.
It’s totally flushing unwanted bullshit negativity out of me.

Just, wow.
If I didn’t already appreciate how fantastic music can be for a human, I’d probably start right now.

I feel brilliant. I feel cocky, and I feel important.
And I’d like to give a big fuck-you to the people who’ve made me feel otherwise recently.

I’m talking to a beautiful girl, I’m in the best shape of my life, I’m writing better, I’ve got goals, and I’ve got a newfound appreciation for the freedom I have.

I’m only limited by how much I want to give or do.

For example. (Small one)
A few days ago it was raining, and I was totally bummed that I couldn’t get out and take my walk.
And I was sitting there thinking.
Then I was like. Well, it’s not really the rain stopping me from walking.
So I went out anyway.
It made me feel like a kid again. Sloping around in my clothes, not really caring that I looked ridiculous, or that I might catch a cold.

As we grow, we lose the part of us that doesn’t care about what other people think.

I liked knowing that someone in their car thought I was bogus.
And I laughed out loud. Out in the rain. Alone, and soaking wet.
Interesting how my absolute happiness was probably mistaken for insanity.

Come on, let’s go.
I know you want to.
Those legs want to see exactly what I have to offer.
I’ll teach you how to walk.
I’ll teach you how to fucking fly if you want.
Just tell me.

And when you feel adequate.
Show it off.
Wear your pride like the definition.
Make people want you.
Make them look twice, thrice, quadruple.
Tell them who you are, and what you’re capable of.

You’re a fucking brick wall, lady.
Remember that you’re a mountain.
Those thoughts under your nails are going to make you famous.

You know it.

What the hell is practicality anyway?
It’s just another word.
Success is a word too, you know.

Adopt the belief of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, where anything is possible.
Reality is what you say it is.
Don’t scoff and tell me I’m just a dreamer.
You had dreams once, too.

All the most recognized people in history were dreamers.
Dare to go for it.
Dare to hit rejection.
Dare to conquer what your mother told you was impossible.

Listen to Peter Pan.
He dressed cooler.

Here’s to fairies
Here’s to fables
Here’s to magic
Here’s to make-belief
Here’s to childhood and jellybeans
Here’s to the man in the moon
Here’s to the rainbow and the color gold
Here’s to forts and castles.

Here’s to princesses.
As many as you want.

You have hands.
Just open the door.