Inspiration in coffee, chocolate and pastry...

No inspiration is better than the inspiration I provide for myself, all by myself. I found inspiration today. I found it during my third bite into my second mini Hershey's chocolate bar post-mini coffee cake...

I semi-randomly found myself at a quaint, eclectic coffee shop behind an overrated Starbucks late this afternoon. I knew I wanted coffee. I knew I needed to wind down after my work day and before I would be able to concentrate on my pressing paper. I saw hand painted signs to this coffee shop located behind the Starbucks-plus-some plaza. I went for it.

At this adorable coffee shop, I was served a freshly brewed cup o' joe in an equally adorable mug rather than the typical hoping to be recycled, recycled paper or, worse, the un-recycle-able styrofoam to-go. I was also served the yummy mini-coffee cake I mentioned on a mini-glass plate. Water was available near cream and sugars; this water was serve yourself out of a glass carafe style into real glass...nice. Speaking of sugars, they were served, not in to-go throw aways but, in glass syrup style servers. I hope you can see it just as it is...

While sipping my 'joe and nibbling on chocolate and pastry, I had a thought... an evil, unwelcome thought:

"Ehhh, I don't have anywhere to really dress up and go this week so, it (this pastry and this chocolate) is okay..."


I literally "PSSHHHH'd" myself.

Some of my most powerful words to myself: "Psshhhh, get the heck (more like fuck) outta here."

Of course, I'm talking to her when I speak these powerful words to myself. I am talking to her because she is no longer welcome here. She is no longer welcome nor accepted here. This I choose, daily.

I choose to remain myself as myself, NOT as herself. I choose to remain in my own existence...my own perfectly imperfect, God-given, beautiful existence. I decide that she and her self-righteous, selfishly self-loathing, distorted existence is NO longer welcome in my repertoire. She is no longer in stock nor of things available. She is sold out; I sold her out.

So, goodbye to you, her.

I won't see you later, she.

Good fucking riddance, bitch :)



(...sorry for the language but, that feels phenomenal...)
[And, for any of you who may not know, I have historically written/spoke in the 3rd person regarding my (former) eating disordered self.]