Waking up this morning, I reflected upon yesterday's post (10 Tricks to Waking Up Golden) and came up with a very crucial #11.
11. Revisit #1, you idiot. Stop after 2, unless it's celebratory. Seriously.
Last night pink came to play, and by pink, I mean by very favorite diluted blush hue on the color wheel that only Miu Miu could get right (picture above) in contrast with an oddly sad, dingy bluebird blue; rosé, lovely and crisp rosé wine.
Who drinks rosé in October? This betch does.
Oh, and please excuse my third person reference...I really try not to do that, as it is so incredibly tacky, especially in written form, but I'm still drunk and felt it was very much appropriate.
As the rosé I was drinking was kicking Dom's stars around the sky and I was shooting the sh*t (we're such a turbulent pair), a dear friend said something, completely unknowingly, that really stuck.
I was talking, no, whining, about how I want what I can't have...as if that's not the oldest line in the Marilyn Monroe Book of Single White Girl Quotes, first edition.
To set the record straight, I wasn't doing it in an "Oh pity me and pass the wine" type of way, it was more of a matter of fact, "Mother was right, I really do want what I can't have" type of way. And yes, off the record but for your literary entertainment, I was talking about a boy, so shoot me.
My friend then said, and this is where it gets really interesting, dear reader:
"We all just want a monkey."
We all just want a monkey...I thought...what the f*ck does...oh wait, I totally and utterly get what that means right now. And so not in a sense that he (my friend, not God, although he would probably like to think he was God) meant it.
My friend was simply being witty and pretty damn practical, like he tends to be, by saying we all just want a monkey. You know, like the kind that dances around and throws its own sh*t at people. Super cute.
He's so right. We all just want a monkey.
A new novelty.
Whether that monkey is a new toy, a new boy, a new idea, a new creative outlet, whatever.
It doesn't have to be the prettiest monkey in the jungle, sometimes we want a new monkey who is a project or sometimes we just want a new monkey who shows a little interest.
Moral of the story: Find your new monkey.
Stop trying to teach your old monkey new tricks. Give that old monkey a comfy satin pillow to sit on and find your new monkey.
We all want one, don't be scared or hesitate to go out there and find yours. It doesn't mean you don't love your old monkeys, your old ideas, your past lovers, it just means you just want a new one that enchants you and inspires you and drives you to reach an entirely new level of being and purpose.
Find that new sparkling monkey that dances in your eyes.
Whatever in the world that new monkey might be.
I know, I just totally went Carrie Bradshaw sock drawer and french fries on you.
But, this really fucking makes sense to me.
No astrick intended.