Today.... for no explainable reason, I awoke singing to myself. Not entirely odd. However, it was my song choice that defies reason.
I was singing "Luckenbach, Texas", by Waylon Jennings.
!!!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?
The last time I heard that song, was on a cassett tape, in my parents old VW Bus, on a roadtrip back from my Great-Grandmother's. I was probably... um.... 5 or 6(if that).
I would like to think that there's a great message out there that the Universe is sending me... but SERIOUSLY..... Luckenbach, Texas!?!?!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Cool Change
While all of Southern California suffered one of the nastiest heat spells in 100 years, I adventured in Catalina amidst boaters and bison. Must admit that while the island in the west was also balmy, the change of scenery (and close companionship of my darlin Tag) kept me fairly cool & recouperating throughout the weekend.
But WOW, lemme tell ya..... It's HARD to return to the desk when your mind is still on island time.
*sigh*
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Permission to feel Joy now Granted
In a little under 12 hours, I go to meet my love at the airport. In 24 hours, we will be on our way to an island getaway. Butterflies in my stomach, bounce in my step, the tremendous urge to close my eyes and dream.
The practical side of my brain screams that the house is a mess; dishes not done, trash in the cans. My hair is not the color I was hoping for. My eldest cat seems to have gotten ear mites. The weather is still unbearably hot.
Despite a million little pinpricks in the balloon, I cannot be deflated though. I continue to glide and twirl and spin- a combination ballroom tango dancer and giddy 4-yr old girl.
And even as I type this, a voice inside says “Oh… *scoff* that’s just silly.”
And another cries out “Hush up! It’s OK to feel this way!!! ”
I don’t want to stay on task today. I want to eat cupcakes and giggle. I want to dress up girlie.
I want to brush my hair 100 times until it shines, and then put on my favorite lip gloss. Paint my nails pink, and spin till my skirt flies out like a tutu.
If the me from a year ago ran into the me today, she’d simultaneously mock me and envy me. OH how far have we come!
And yet, as happy as I am, I have to keep reminding myself…. “it’s OK to feel this way!!” strange huh? How our brains will fight against joy. What is that, and where does it come from?
Do you ever have days where you’re scared to be excited? Do you ever stop the free flowing stream of bliss, because you’re not sure it’s yours? And if so…. How do you stop that? How do you open your heart and allow…. no… “Permit”… give permission to yourself to feel amazing?
Apparently… I blog. And having done this, I’m now going release anything attempting to block my happiness. I’m going to open my arms wide and embrace this bouncy glowing feeling, just as I will embrace my dearest tonight at the airport. *grin*
The practical side of my brain screams that the house is a mess; dishes not done, trash in the cans. My hair is not the color I was hoping for. My eldest cat seems to have gotten ear mites. The weather is still unbearably hot.
Despite a million little pinpricks in the balloon, I cannot be deflated though. I continue to glide and twirl and spin- a combination ballroom tango dancer and giddy 4-yr old girl.
And even as I type this, a voice inside says “Oh… *scoff* that’s just silly.”
And another cries out “Hush up! It’s OK to feel this way!!! ”
I don’t want to stay on task today. I want to eat cupcakes and giggle. I want to dress up girlie.
I want to brush my hair 100 times until it shines, and then put on my favorite lip gloss. Paint my nails pink, and spin till my skirt flies out like a tutu.
If the me from a year ago ran into the me today, she’d simultaneously mock me and envy me. OH how far have we come!
And yet, as happy as I am, I have to keep reminding myself…. “it’s OK to feel this way!!” strange huh? How our brains will fight against joy. What is that, and where does it come from?
Do you ever have days where you’re scared to be excited? Do you ever stop the free flowing stream of bliss, because you’re not sure it’s yours? And if so…. How do you stop that? How do you open your heart and allow…. no… “Permit”… give permission to yourself to feel amazing?
Apparently… I blog. And having done this, I’m now going release anything attempting to block my happiness. I’m going to open my arms wide and embrace this bouncy glowing feeling, just as I will embrace my dearest tonight at the airport. *grin*
Monday, July 17, 2006
Tripping the Night Fantastic
Often I think of how much simpler life would be, in a smaller city, away from all the people, isolated from the masses. And then I have a moment like Saturday.
My inner freak had a party to attend, and as such.... items to purchase. I needed:
My inner freak had a party to attend, and as such.... items to purchase. I needed:
- 6 inch platform stilleto pumps that have blue lights inside them that blink when I step
- Striped semi-sheer Thigh-highs in pink
- Turquoise & Pink fairy wings
I went to three different shops, found my 3 items with no problem.... AND never left the corner of Wilcox and Hollywood Blvd. Ahh, Hollywood, how I love your odd charms.
and thus I present to you..... "Studio Fifty-Fairy, the Muse of Disco" & Her Gorgeous Friends. :)
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
101 in 1001- Updated
Finally got around to checking in on my list and making some needed updates.
Proud of what I've gotten handled, but wow... still so much to do!
For the updated listed, click here!
Proud of what I've gotten handled, but wow... still so much to do!
For the updated listed, click here!
Monday, July 10, 2006
Challenged
Ever have those days when you're especially clumsy, particularly incapable, or just down right ragingly dumb??
Like today....
I spent my morning amidst a comedy of errors that left me with a coffee cup full of something vaguely resembling a blend of grits and scrambled eggs (disguised as a warm breakfast beverage), a wet & tea-stained white t-shirt, and a mild burn down one forearm.
How does one top a morning like that?
Well apparently, one attempts to electrocute oneself. Just now… I put a live wire in my mouth. Oh, not intentionally (in that "Jackass" sort of way), but completely by not paying attention (more in the "I AM a jackass" sort of way).
I was crawling around under my desk trying to adjust some plug-ins, and I found that I needed a third hand to hold something... so, not thinking about the fact that it was still plugged in, I put a connective AC output wire in my mouth. Of course the moment it shocked my tongue (much like putting it to the tip of a 9 volt battery) I opened my mouth and spat it out. And then sat there overwhelmed by my stupidity.
I guess I should also thank my extremely buff squad of gaurdian angels that it didn’t connect to the METAL PIERCING in my damn tongue.
*headdesk*
You may mock me now.
Like today....
I spent my morning amidst a comedy of errors that left me with a coffee cup full of something vaguely resembling a blend of grits and scrambled eggs (disguised as a warm breakfast beverage), a wet & tea-stained white t-shirt, and a mild burn down one forearm.
How does one top a morning like that?
Well apparently, one attempts to electrocute oneself. Just now… I put a live wire in my mouth. Oh, not intentionally (in that "Jackass" sort of way), but completely by not paying attention (more in the "I AM a jackass" sort of way).
I was crawling around under my desk trying to adjust some plug-ins, and I found that I needed a third hand to hold something... so, not thinking about the fact that it was still plugged in, I put a connective AC output wire in my mouth. Of course the moment it shocked my tongue (much like putting it to the tip of a 9 volt battery) I opened my mouth and spat it out. And then sat there overwhelmed by my stupidity.
I guess I should also thank my extremely buff squad of gaurdian angels that it didn’t connect to the METAL PIERCING in my damn tongue.
*headdesk*
You may mock me now.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Sunday Scribbings: Hotel Stories
She wakes, ten minutes before the alarm would go off, if she were at home. The sunlight steaming through the window hurts her eyes. Damn, this means that getting vertical is required.
With a painful squint and a bit of a stumble, she drags her heavy body over to the window, pulling drapes to block the infernal brightness. Staggering, she returns to the bed, surprisingly comfortable with delicate linen sheets and a down comforter she pulls around her like a lover's arms. In the fog of her brain, she struggles to remember the night.
The Masque was set to begin at 8pm. It had said so on the dark embossed invitation that had mysteriously appeared at Johanna's abode the week before. Unusual, but not unheard of, Johanna was used to surprise gifts from admirers. Usually she ignored them. Attention was always lovely, but replying might obligate her in some way to return their affection, and Johanna had no intentions in doing that. She was focused, enterprising, dilligant, ambitious. She had no time for dalliances, and certainly nowhere in her blackberry-dictated schedule was there time set aside to fall in love.
However, the grandiose quality of the invite, promising not only a masked celebration, but accommodations at the new Palácio de Amor Perigoso, was simply too good to pass up. And she was SO in need of a weekend retreat, after the presentation she'd put together for the board this week. She needed girly moments at a 5-star spa, and a little celebrity treatment. Not to mention that events like this were like crawling with the most important people, and she longed to be one of the "power players".
Perfection takes time, and it was easily 9:20 before Johanna made her appearance. Hair coiffed just so, she exected to be, as she so often was, a belle of the ball. However, upon arriving it became clear that it was no ordinary evening... no ordinary celebration. Sumptuous red walls, with wrought iron sconces holding dripping candles of shiny black wax; the room was most extrodinarily decorated in half dressed bodies of all shapes and colors. Sparkling fairies, scandalously naked tree nymphs- from fantasy to fetish, an array of forms swayed and undulated to the pulsing deep beat of the otherworldly music pouding from the speakers. No celebrity faces, no power players. Just bodies, estatic in a near carnal way. Johanna, in her ornate gown of shimmering ivory, felt instantly out of place.
With a body posture that betrayed none of the trepidation she was feeling, she crossed the room, heading to the bar for a bit of liquid courage. The dense mass of bodies was difficult to navigate at best, and she had just managed to slip by two pony-esque characters who were lost in each other's sweat and passion, when she found her way barred by a large red chest.
"The musculature is impressive," she thought somewhat haughtily to herself as she let her eyes travel from abs to pecs to the spectacular face attached to it all. Deep crimson body paint covered every inch of naked flesh, and there was tremendous temptation to check lower and see if the god had at least worn a loin cloth.... but the striking dark eyes that watched her intently took all her attention and robbed her of further thought.
"Good evening Johanna", his voice flowed like melted dark chocolate, seductive and tangible, coating her flesh in tingles and twitchs and the irrisitable urged to be touched. Johanna briefly registered that the thoughts now screaming through her mind were not ones she normally allowed herself, but within his physical presence, all she could sense was the salt of sweat and iron-like aftertaste that blood leaves in your mouth. She for an instant wondered if she'd managed to bite her tongue. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it in stunned speechlessness. Opened it again thinking she'd found words, but closed it almost as quickly, realizing that if she articulated her thoughts, she would not be able to stop the decadant, and completely unlady-like proposition that begged to be spoken.
He chuckled. A deep low rumbling like thunder in a night sky storm.
"My sweet fish, standing there.... desparate for a breath.... feeling so out of your element." He walked around her. With all the gyrating madness that swam around them, he seemed unaffected... untouched. As if the mass of flesh parted to allow him passage. He slipped behind her, so that he could quietly whisper into her ear, his sensuous tones having an even more primitive effect on her when accompanied with his hot breath. "These are dangerous waters. Far more powerful than any of the pinstriped suits you spend your days with." He brought his hands up to her shoulders, and the first touch was explosive in her blood. Trembling, she fought back the fear that she was, for this first time since she could remember, completely out of control.
Strong red hands began to slide her gown from her shoulders. "Ease into the water, my sweet Johanna." Quivering, shaking, her mind screaming "No" as her body played traitor, she could no more stop his hands than she could stop the ragged breaths escaping her. All around, the music swelled and pulsed and pulled at her gown. The heat of the dancers, the taste of the sweat, the colors whirled madly, as .....
*sound of a knock* "Maid Serivce"
Johanna bolted upright in the bed, her head pounding with the movement. Disoriented with pain and dehydration, she angrily responded "Not Now", before flopping back down on the pillow. Instantly she was sorry and a little nauseous. "What a fucked up.... ugh." She rose, slowly this time, and staggered towards the bathroom. What she needed was a shower, something to rehydrate her body and wash this filthy used feeling from her soul. "MUST remember not to do shots of Jagermeister at the next party, " she grimly chuckled to herself, as she turned on the water.
Standing, she caught a moments relection in the 3 way mirror. Down the small of her back were 4 long red scratches, nearly animal in their nature. For a moment, there was a fire in her groin, and then a cold chill in her blood as she desparately sought for the difference between truth and dream. There were no answers in her foggy head, and as she stepped into the shower, she found no comfort in the warm water streaming down.
*************************************
For more Sunday Scribblings, go here
With a painful squint and a bit of a stumble, she drags her heavy body over to the window, pulling drapes to block the infernal brightness. Staggering, she returns to the bed, surprisingly comfortable with delicate linen sheets and a down comforter she pulls around her like a lover's arms. In the fog of her brain, she struggles to remember the night.
The Masque was set to begin at 8pm. It had said so on the dark embossed invitation that had mysteriously appeared at Johanna's abode the week before. Unusual, but not unheard of, Johanna was used to surprise gifts from admirers. Usually she ignored them. Attention was always lovely, but replying might obligate her in some way to return their affection, and Johanna had no intentions in doing that. She was focused, enterprising, dilligant, ambitious. She had no time for dalliances, and certainly nowhere in her blackberry-dictated schedule was there time set aside to fall in love.
However, the grandiose quality of the invite, promising not only a masked celebration, but accommodations at the new Palácio de Amor Perigoso, was simply too good to pass up. And she was SO in need of a weekend retreat, after the presentation she'd put together for the board this week. She needed girly moments at a 5-star spa, and a little celebrity treatment. Not to mention that events like this were like crawling with the most important people, and she longed to be one of the "power players".
Perfection takes time, and it was easily 9:20 before Johanna made her appearance. Hair coiffed just so, she exected to be, as she so often was, a belle of the ball. However, upon arriving it became clear that it was no ordinary evening... no ordinary celebration. Sumptuous red walls, with wrought iron sconces holding dripping candles of shiny black wax; the room was most extrodinarily decorated in half dressed bodies of all shapes and colors. Sparkling fairies, scandalously naked tree nymphs- from fantasy to fetish, an array of forms swayed and undulated to the pulsing deep beat of the otherworldly music pouding from the speakers. No celebrity faces, no power players. Just bodies, estatic in a near carnal way. Johanna, in her ornate gown of shimmering ivory, felt instantly out of place.
With a body posture that betrayed none of the trepidation she was feeling, she crossed the room, heading to the bar for a bit of liquid courage. The dense mass of bodies was difficult to navigate at best, and she had just managed to slip by two pony-esque characters who were lost in each other's sweat and passion, when she found her way barred by a large red chest.
"The musculature is impressive," she thought somewhat haughtily to herself as she let her eyes travel from abs to pecs to the spectacular face attached to it all. Deep crimson body paint covered every inch of naked flesh, and there was tremendous temptation to check lower and see if the god had at least worn a loin cloth.... but the striking dark eyes that watched her intently took all her attention and robbed her of further thought.
"Good evening Johanna", his voice flowed like melted dark chocolate, seductive and tangible, coating her flesh in tingles and twitchs and the irrisitable urged to be touched. Johanna briefly registered that the thoughts now screaming through her mind were not ones she normally allowed herself, but within his physical presence, all she could sense was the salt of sweat and iron-like aftertaste that blood leaves in your mouth. She for an instant wondered if she'd managed to bite her tongue. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it in stunned speechlessness. Opened it again thinking she'd found words, but closed it almost as quickly, realizing that if she articulated her thoughts, she would not be able to stop the decadant, and completely unlady-like proposition that begged to be spoken.
He chuckled. A deep low rumbling like thunder in a night sky storm.
"My sweet fish, standing there.... desparate for a breath.... feeling so out of your element." He walked around her. With all the gyrating madness that swam around them, he seemed unaffected... untouched. As if the mass of flesh parted to allow him passage. He slipped behind her, so that he could quietly whisper into her ear, his sensuous tones having an even more primitive effect on her when accompanied with his hot breath. "These are dangerous waters. Far more powerful than any of the pinstriped suits you spend your days with." He brought his hands up to her shoulders, and the first touch was explosive in her blood. Trembling, she fought back the fear that she was, for this first time since she could remember, completely out of control.
Strong red hands began to slide her gown from her shoulders. "Ease into the water, my sweet Johanna." Quivering, shaking, her mind screaming "No" as her body played traitor, she could no more stop his hands than she could stop the ragged breaths escaping her. All around, the music swelled and pulsed and pulled at her gown. The heat of the dancers, the taste of the sweat, the colors whirled madly, as .....
*sound of a knock* "Maid Serivce"
Johanna bolted upright in the bed, her head pounding with the movement. Disoriented with pain and dehydration, she angrily responded "Not Now", before flopping back down on the pillow. Instantly she was sorry and a little nauseous. "What a fucked up.... ugh." She rose, slowly this time, and staggered towards the bathroom. What she needed was a shower, something to rehydrate her body and wash this filthy used feeling from her soul. "MUST remember not to do shots of Jagermeister at the next party, " she grimly chuckled to herself, as she turned on the water.
Standing, she caught a moments relection in the 3 way mirror. Down the small of her back were 4 long red scratches, nearly animal in their nature. For a moment, there was a fire in her groin, and then a cold chill in her blood as she desparately sought for the difference between truth and dream. There were no answers in her foggy head, and as she stepped into the shower, she found no comfort in the warm water streaming down.
*************************************
For more Sunday Scribblings, go here
Monday, July 03, 2006
Sunday Scribblings on Monday: Two Peas in a Pod
Completely Free-Form Stream of Consciousness
Two Peas in a Pod
Coupling
Connection
Bright green bouncing thoughts, enclosed in a hug
Lover in a warm verdant salad
Alive
Life
Hiding out with friends, making pillow forts and giggling
Giggling, a word, a sound that seems to be written merely for the joy and use of little girls who still believe in unicorns and mermaids
27 years later, we don’t giggle as much, but oh the tales we can tell
Two Peas in a Pod with completely different genetic coding
Yellow peas, green peas, wrinkled peas and smooth peas
Bio 101, time spent looking at dominate genes and how
Some peas are wrinkled
And I have brown eyes
Brown eyes… Bane of my existence. Always wanted Daddy’s blues… but *sigh* brown was my luck of the draw.
Brown like ground
Like chocolate chip cookies
Like puppies
Earnest and eager
Warm wet brown like the Great Mother herself,
Pushing up crops
Churning out peas
Peas in a Pod
Friends
Lovers
Whatever
Peas in a pod… that human need to not be all alone in this mess.
This salad
This entrée
This vegetable farm
Little bit of sun on a damp mound of Earth…
Bursting with possibilities, potential and zesty wholesome flavors
Two Peas in a Pod
Coupling
Connection
Bright green bouncing thoughts, enclosed in a hug
Lover in a warm verdant salad
Alive
Life
Hiding out with friends, making pillow forts and giggling
Giggling, a word, a sound that seems to be written merely for the joy and use of little girls who still believe in unicorns and mermaids
27 years later, we don’t giggle as much, but oh the tales we can tell
Two Peas in a Pod with completely different genetic coding
Yellow peas, green peas, wrinkled peas and smooth peas
Bio 101, time spent looking at dominate genes and how
Some peas are wrinkled
And I have brown eyes
Brown eyes… Bane of my existence. Always wanted Daddy’s blues… but *sigh* brown was my luck of the draw.
Brown like ground
Like chocolate chip cookies
Like puppies
Earnest and eager
Warm wet brown like the Great Mother herself,
Pushing up crops
Churning out peas
Peas in a Pod
Friends
Lovers
Whatever
Peas in a pod… that human need to not be all alone in this mess.
This salad
This entrée
This vegetable farm
Little bit of sun on a damp mound of Earth…
Bursting with possibilities, potential and zesty wholesome flavors
Thursday, June 29, 2006
I've often thought it...
... but it's interesting when the Universe decides to remind me of it, by putting in my inbox.
People are where they are because that is exactly where they really want to be - whether they will admit that or not.
Earl Nightingale
People are where they are because that is exactly where they really want to be - whether they will admit that or not.
Earl Nightingale
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Running Ragged
"Where does the time go?
Simply too few hours in the day.
Oh, a Diva's work is never done."
~ Carlotta's song, "Phantom"
(that's the Yeston & Kopit version folks! Far Superior, IMHO, that the Andrew Lloyd Webber one)
Seriously, I haven't seemed to catch up lately. The good news is that it's largely been all positive.
Simply too few hours in the day.
Oh, a Diva's work is never done."
~ Carlotta's song, "Phantom"
(that's the Yeston & Kopit version folks! Far Superior, IMHO, that the Andrew Lloyd Webber one)
Seriously, I haven't seemed to catch up lately. The good news is that it's largely been all positive.
- The day job took a brief header into unhappy land, and it continues to be insanely busy... but the morale is improving, and the long awaited employee "Bash" that I had to organize is finally coming together nicely. It occurs this Friday, and after that, I should be less crazed.
- The Dance Studio continues to be a source of joy and challenge in my life. Class + Training + Front Desk Duties = additional job with heck of a commute. And my body is in a rebellious phase, where it just doesn't want to release into the music. The feeling is that of being a shaken bottle of soda... just waiting for the cap to twist.
- Got cast in 2 (count em.... 2!) Voice Over jobs with a major video game company. Have recorded one already, and just scheduled studio time for the second. Sadly, I can give you no further details as they are both top secret projects.
- Also cast in Infomercial for upcoming fitness product. You know the type... just "5 min a day" (small print at bottom says "... when used as a part of a regular workout routine and balanced eating plan"). Well, the product is fairly simple ... it's the regular workout and eating plan that summarily kicking my ass. Particularly the part where I get up at 5am M, W, & F mornings so I can make it to the gym to meet the group with the trainer. UGH!
- I inherited a short-term emergency roomie. She's a genteel and sweet thing whose luck has not been the greatest as of late, so I'm offering her safe space and hopefully some entertaining conversation. She brings with her 2 kitties, who are characters in their own rights... and so the household inhabitants number is (counting all the fur babies) up to 7. We are grossly outnumbered by the carnivores, but as long as they don't have thumbs, we will continue our reign of matriarchal tyranny.
- Lastly, but certainly not least in my life.... Tag & I continue to be deliriously happy, despite the distance difficulties. Late July, we are scheduled for a long weekend on an island, and that is the touchstone that keeps me plugging ever forward.
That, my dears, is all the news fit to print. I'd love to be wittier .... but I'm just too damn tired.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Sunday Scribbling: Mystery
So I type the title, and then sit quiet for a moment at the keyboard..... Mystery. What does it mean? Is there one that intrigues me? What would I like to know?
And then in an instant of rememberance, She comes to me.... an old friend. A creature so close to my heart, so real for me that it's hard to remember that to many people she is a "mystery." To me she is unquestioned reality. She exists. She is, and by her being places are made more magical. She is Nessie..... my long time love and focus for fascination.
In 6th grade, we had to write our first official research paper. Without thought, I chose her. I read about her all the time anyway. Why not put some of that research to good use? But as I dug in to the "offical scientific reports", I was dismayed to discover that many people did not believe. How can you not? How can you doubt that her glorious monsterific self exists, outside of time, free from the hamperings of modern life?
See, I can see her. I know I have seen her. Early on, I used to have images in my brain.... it's a dark night.... shortly after new moon, so there is not much light to guide my way. I walk between trees, densly populated together. Hunched at times, to slip below branches. I can acutally hear the dead leaves and twigs snapping underneath my feet. I am nervous.... not because I am in the dark, but because I know there are people who, if they found me, would hunt me. But here at the lake, I am safe. So near my home, hidden from those that would harm me.... I creep, covered in wool, towards the water, for a clear view of the moon.
As I near the shore line, I see, in the darkness a form, a shape undistinguishable. I pause, unsure. A creature, eyes catch the light. I don't know what it is... but I see it there. And I feel quite sure she sees me. A moment..... long and uncertain, and then I am dismissed, and the eating continues. I don't know what she's eating. I know only that I feel both safe and unsafe. Confused that my eyes are sending me messages my brain has no words for.... Blessed to view such magic.
That image, and those feelings have been with me since I can remember. Childish imaginings? Past Life rememberings? I cannot tell you. I only know: She is real. She is magic. And I have seen her.
As I grew into teenhood, and my analytical brain kicked into higher gear.... I tried again to investigate and theorize on the 'mystery' of my Scottish friend. I came up with a concept, dealing with tears/gaps in the space-time continuum. Holes, underneath the surface of the water, that lead to different times... different lakes/oceans/places throughout the planet's history. Perhaps these 'doorways' connect various waters all through the fabric of time. That would explain why sometimes there are many sightings, and othertimes radar can find nothing large in the Loch. It would also offer up a possible explanation of why the creature has been described so differently over the decades (Sometimes with a long neck, othertimes a short round head. Sometimes a large body with short fins, othertimes a long snake-like body with no limbs). When I first concieved of this, it made endless amounts of sense to me.... and also worked with the fact that since I was 4 or 5, I've been fascinated with 'time portals' (as i child, i would build elaborate 'doorways', telling others that i was going to go 'home' through them).
Imagine my unexpected joy when I ran across the SAME theory years later in Diane Gabaldon's "Outlander" series (I believe it's in the third book "Voyager"). There she has 3 main characters out in a boat on the Loch, discussing time travel and the potential for portals under the surface of the water. My breath was sucked out of my body, and I wanted to find some way of calling Mrs. Gabaldon and yelling, "YES YES.... I had that same theory.... OMG, the fact that at least two of us have this same theory has GOT to give it some real credance, don't you think??" (but I fear such a random call from a rabid fan would not have the reassuring response I was looking for... LOL). So instead, I just let the fact that I was not alone bubble underneath my surface, filling me with joy and further confirmation that Nessie is alive, well and absolute reality.
Sadly I realize that not everyone shares my certainty, and thus She remains "Mystery".
Wanna see if you can catch a peep of the great beastie?? http://www.lochness.co.uk/livecam/
(if you see her, please tell her I send my love)
And then in an instant of rememberance, She comes to me.... an old friend. A creature so close to my heart, so real for me that it's hard to remember that to many people she is a "mystery." To me she is unquestioned reality. She exists. She is, and by her being places are made more magical. She is Nessie..... my long time love and focus for fascination.
In 6th grade, we had to write our first official research paper. Without thought, I chose her. I read about her all the time anyway. Why not put some of that research to good use? But as I dug in to the "offical scientific reports", I was dismayed to discover that many people did not believe. How can you not? How can you doubt that her glorious monsterific self exists, outside of time, free from the hamperings of modern life?
See, I can see her. I know I have seen her. Early on, I used to have images in my brain.... it's a dark night.... shortly after new moon, so there is not much light to guide my way. I walk between trees, densly populated together. Hunched at times, to slip below branches. I can acutally hear the dead leaves and twigs snapping underneath my feet. I am nervous.... not because I am in the dark, but because I know there are people who, if they found me, would hunt me. But here at the lake, I am safe. So near my home, hidden from those that would harm me.... I creep, covered in wool, towards the water, for a clear view of the moon.
As I near the shore line, I see, in the darkness a form, a shape undistinguishable. I pause, unsure. A creature, eyes catch the light. I don't know what it is... but I see it there. And I feel quite sure she sees me. A moment..... long and uncertain, and then I am dismissed, and the eating continues. I don't know what she's eating. I know only that I feel both safe and unsafe. Confused that my eyes are sending me messages my brain has no words for.... Blessed to view such magic.
That image, and those feelings have been with me since I can remember. Childish imaginings? Past Life rememberings? I cannot tell you. I only know: She is real. She is magic. And I have seen her.
As I grew into teenhood, and my analytical brain kicked into higher gear.... I tried again to investigate and theorize on the 'mystery' of my Scottish friend. I came up with a concept, dealing with tears/gaps in the space-time continuum. Holes, underneath the surface of the water, that lead to different times... different lakes/oceans/places throughout the planet's history. Perhaps these 'doorways' connect various waters all through the fabric of time. That would explain why sometimes there are many sightings, and othertimes radar can find nothing large in the Loch. It would also offer up a possible explanation of why the creature has been described so differently over the decades (Sometimes with a long neck, othertimes a short round head. Sometimes a large body with short fins, othertimes a long snake-like body with no limbs). When I first concieved of this, it made endless amounts of sense to me.... and also worked with the fact that since I was 4 or 5, I've been fascinated with 'time portals' (as i child, i would build elaborate 'doorways', telling others that i was going to go 'home' through them).
Imagine my unexpected joy when I ran across the SAME theory years later in Diane Gabaldon's "Outlander" series (I believe it's in the third book "Voyager"). There she has 3 main characters out in a boat on the Loch, discussing time travel and the potential for portals under the surface of the water. My breath was sucked out of my body, and I wanted to find some way of calling Mrs. Gabaldon and yelling, "YES YES.... I had that same theory.... OMG, the fact that at least two of us have this same theory has GOT to give it some real credance, don't you think??" (but I fear such a random call from a rabid fan would not have the reassuring response I was looking for... LOL). So instead, I just let the fact that I was not alone bubble underneath my surface, filling me with joy and further confirmation that Nessie is alive, well and absolute reality.
Sadly I realize that not everyone shares my certainty, and thus She remains "Mystery".
Wanna see if you can catch a peep of the great beastie?? http://www.lochness.co.uk/livecam/
(if you see her, please tell her I send my love)
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Truth to the Skip in my Step
This blog is named “CNR” in direct reference to my dating life. However, as of late, it is the one topic that I’ve shied away from discussing.
I’m loathe to make it seem that there’s a revolving door on my heart, but in the time since separating from The Comfy PJs, there has been a series of unfortunate events.
Some were only passing fancies, better in theory than in reality. Others so fleeting that recording the who and wherefore would require more time and commitment than the affair itself. A couple have exploded with damaging results to all those involved. A few were embarrassing attempts to settle for what was there, instead of manifesting what I wanted. Many were just damn bad ideas!
And then fate dropped him on my plate. We’ve been in communication for over a year now, exchanging ideas and discussing passions. Friends and conversationalists with a dash of flirtation. That was until May… when Fate designed a moment in which we would both end up in the same place at the same time. 17 hours later, we’d both been hit by a truck. A pleasant but stunning drive-by, after which we each returned to our corners of the world unsure of what it meant, what happened, and where (if anywhere) this might go.
Struck as we were, we upped our level of correspondence and began to communicate on a nearly daily basis. Shortly thereafter, talk of plans for our next rendezvous had begun. But distance being the deterrent it can sometimes be, we were forced (much against our natures) to move slowly and to live entirely in the realm of words.
Our written missives are poetry (sometimes literally). Our phone calls long and diverse. From politics to passion; from geek moments to god concepts, we cover the gamut of interesting topics for hours on end. The brightest moments of my days were imbued with some essence of him. We finally declared it officially “a relationship” and began to focus on when we might live in the same geographic time zone.
*picture wavy ‘time passing’ cross-fade here*
Progress ahead a few weeks…
Perhaps my dearest friends were tired of hearing me whine about my long-distance boyfriend. Perhaps (and more likely) they are ecstatic and eager to encourage time spent with a man who is open, giving, communicative and clearly as high-energied and bouncy as myself. Whatever the motivation, unbeknownst to me, they began to Plot an unexpected reunion.
I add that link because I could not tell the tale nearly as well as its ingenious designer, the brilliant and lovely Amandarin. I can only tell you about how it feels to be on the receiving end of such a generous and amazing gift. 3 better friends a girl could not ask for, and a more luscious present simply doesn’t exist. I’m still walking on clouds of air, in that deliriously happy place that exists at the beginnings of new-found love.
So to my benefactors who created my own “Fantasy Island”, a million heart-felt thank yous. To my dearest Tag, although the miles separate us, the feel of your arms is still around me. And to my reading populace… Hope you don’t mind if I step away from my usual dry bitter humor and revel in the glorious discovery of sharing my heart again.
And to my father, in case he’s reading this blog right now... Try not to barf from the Cute, ok? *grin*
I’m loathe to make it seem that there’s a revolving door on my heart, but in the time since separating from The Comfy PJs, there has been a series of unfortunate events.
Some were only passing fancies, better in theory than in reality. Others so fleeting that recording the who and wherefore would require more time and commitment than the affair itself. A couple have exploded with damaging results to all those involved. A few were embarrassing attempts to settle for what was there, instead of manifesting what I wanted. Many were just damn bad ideas!
And then fate dropped him on my plate. We’ve been in communication for over a year now, exchanging ideas and discussing passions. Friends and conversationalists with a dash of flirtation. That was until May… when Fate designed a moment in which we would both end up in the same place at the same time. 17 hours later, we’d both been hit by a truck. A pleasant but stunning drive-by, after which we each returned to our corners of the world unsure of what it meant, what happened, and where (if anywhere) this might go.
Struck as we were, we upped our level of correspondence and began to communicate on a nearly daily basis. Shortly thereafter, talk of plans for our next rendezvous had begun. But distance being the deterrent it can sometimes be, we were forced (much against our natures) to move slowly and to live entirely in the realm of words.
Our written missives are poetry (sometimes literally). Our phone calls long and diverse. From politics to passion; from geek moments to god concepts, we cover the gamut of interesting topics for hours on end. The brightest moments of my days were imbued with some essence of him. We finally declared it officially “a relationship” and began to focus on when we might live in the same geographic time zone.
*picture wavy ‘time passing’ cross-fade here*
Progress ahead a few weeks…
Perhaps my dearest friends were tired of hearing me whine about my long-distance boyfriend. Perhaps (and more likely) they are ecstatic and eager to encourage time spent with a man who is open, giving, communicative and clearly as high-energied and bouncy as myself. Whatever the motivation, unbeknownst to me, they began to Plot an unexpected reunion.
I add that link because I could not tell the tale nearly as well as its ingenious designer, the brilliant and lovely Amandarin. I can only tell you about how it feels to be on the receiving end of such a generous and amazing gift. 3 better friends a girl could not ask for, and a more luscious present simply doesn’t exist. I’m still walking on clouds of air, in that deliriously happy place that exists at the beginnings of new-found love.
So to my benefactors who created my own “Fantasy Island”, a million heart-felt thank yous. To my dearest Tag, although the miles separate us, the feel of your arms is still around me. And to my reading populace… Hope you don’t mind if I step away from my usual dry bitter humor and revel in the glorious discovery of sharing my heart again.
And to my father, in case he’s reading this blog right now... Try not to barf from the Cute, ok? *grin*
Monday, May 22, 2006
Participating as Requested
My friend over at God Is Patient, I am not has started an interesting conversation on her blog and asked me to participate, even though we come at our spirituality from very different directions. Therefore, at her request, I am posting my responses to her thought provoking questions. If you are not comfortable with alternative spiritualities, or not open to a little humor with your god discussions... this might not be the post for you.
Nor are my answers meant to be any sort of red flag that send the "convert you for your own good" bull into a rage. The Writer already knows this, so that warning is not for her. It is for any random passer-by who after reading this feels compelled to 'save the poor pagan girl'.
That said-- Here we go...
Last time I went to church:
Church? Eeek…um… Christmas Eve, whenever it was that I last went home to FL for Christmas. (I watch my mother sing in her choir at Midnight Mass) Ritual? Last Monday.
This many of my friends that I went to college with go to church :
Don’t know. When I was in college, I did a performance of “Godspell” with a church group. (the Director was my acting partner in my upper level class, and he needed a strong alto for “Sonia”) They were an eclectic church group, and they had a very understanding and open way of “being in the presence” and “praying” that made me feel very comfortable, even though our beliefs were not identical. I enjoyed my time (couple of months) that I spent with them. However, when the show was over, I didn’t attend further services. Currently in my life here, I can think of two people in my social structure who attend church with any sort of regularity. One is the person who created this questionnaire.
When I hear the phrase “Jesus”, I think:
I think he was a nice guy. I think he existed. I think he is a child of the creator and the universe, like we all are. I believe he was a powerful prophet and a very good soul. Do I think he “died for my sins”?.... Mmmmm, No. I like how Unity Church puts it about seeking “The Christ Consciousness” in each of us. To me that speaks about being at your highest and most loving self. My term for that is being “yummy”. Thus "YummyTeece" speaks to my spiritual quest to be my highest self.
When I hear the phrase “organized religion”, I think:
RUN! RUN!! Grab your bags, do not pass Go… Do not collect $200. Just sprint for your f**king life.
Three things I think organized religion (for lack of a better word) gets right:
Nor are my answers meant to be any sort of red flag that send the "convert you for your own good" bull into a rage. The Writer already knows this, so that warning is not for her. It is for any random passer-by who after reading this feels compelled to 'save the poor pagan girl'.
That said-- Here we go...
Last time I went to church:
Church? Eeek…um… Christmas Eve, whenever it was that I last went home to FL for Christmas. (I watch my mother sing in her choir at Midnight Mass) Ritual? Last Monday.
This many of my friends that I went to college with go to church :
Don’t know. When I was in college, I did a performance of “Godspell” with a church group. (the Director was my acting partner in my upper level class, and he needed a strong alto for “Sonia”) They were an eclectic church group, and they had a very understanding and open way of “being in the presence” and “praying” that made me feel very comfortable, even though our beliefs were not identical. I enjoyed my time (couple of months) that I spent with them. However, when the show was over, I didn’t attend further services. Currently in my life here, I can think of two people in my social structure who attend church with any sort of regularity. One is the person who created this questionnaire.
When I hear the phrase “Jesus”, I think:
I think he was a nice guy. I think he existed. I think he is a child of the creator and the universe, like we all are. I believe he was a powerful prophet and a very good soul. Do I think he “died for my sins”?.... Mmmmm, No. I like how Unity Church puts it about seeking “The Christ Consciousness” in each of us. To me that speaks about being at your highest and most loving self. My term for that is being “yummy”. Thus "YummyTeece" speaks to my spiritual quest to be my highest self.
When I hear the phrase “organized religion”, I think:
RUN! RUN!! Grab your bags, do not pass Go… Do not collect $200. Just sprint for your f**king life.
Three things I think organized religion (for lack of a better word) gets right:
-- Providing a space for a community of like minded individuals to come together to discuss what they need to discuss in a place of love.
-- Like communisim, the theory is good on paper.
-- Really? 3?…. I have to come up with 3?
Three things I think organized religion (for lack of a better word) gets wrong:
-- The Mob mentality, i.e. the more of us who band together, the more we can say that you are wrong and therefore going to hell.
-- Thou shalt not kill (Unless of course you are doing in the name of your god, in which case, it’s all good).
-- Everyone coming together, so focused on good intentions that they are blind to the long-term ramifications of their short-sighted actions. They are so busy curing or fixing the now, that they are not looking at the bigger picture. They focus on “WHAT” is “Wrong” and not “WHY” the situation occurred.
If I were God, I’d change these three things about the world, because I don’t understand why these things happen:
-- I would like to expand global awareness to recognize animals, plants and all creatures of this planet as fellow members in our large community (as opposed to secondary citizens whose rights are forfeit just because we feel like taking over their space or hunting them for fun.)
-- I would somehow design a genetic imperative in people that would not allow us to litter or further pollute the resources of our planet.
-- Hmmm.. and I'd make Tigers & Silverback Gorillas bigger and more deadly, so that they would be able to better defend themselves against poachers. If you poach wildlife, I think you totally and utterly deserve to be ripped limb from limb or eaten while still alive. Eeek. Did I really type that? Hmmmm… probably a good thing I’m not an all powerful deity.
If I were God, I’d change these three things about this one person (who shall remain nameless.)
Slight variation on this answer… I’m doing 1 thing for three people.
I would have Person#1 release his very rigid idea of what is “proper & appropriate” and instead, allow himself to really experience and enjoy passion as it occurs in the moment.
I would have Person#2 find peace around his grief and anger.
I would have Person#3 release his hold on this life and pass into the next, without further pain or illness.
If I were God I’d change these three things about me:
-- Greater Capacity to love and understand without “being attached to the way it looks” (to swipe a Landmark phrase)
-- Ease around Anger, finding expression for it that is not based in fear or jealousy… allowing myself to experience it without judgment or vindictive action.
-- Eternally Perky/gravity defying breasts and no cellulite my thighs or butt. *grin*
Worst thing I ever heard in church or from a religious person:
I had a friend who was gang raped when she was 13. Her family was extremely religions, and therefore, didn’t call the cops…they called Clergy. Her Clergyman came over and asked her to repent for whatever evil she had done that “made those boys sin like that.” I find that vile to the point of being physically nauseated the first time I heard this story.
Best thing I ever heard in church or from a religious person:
I can’t think of an exact phrase or story, but Reverend Brent at the West Valley Unity Church ALWAYS made me feel at home, at peace, and part of a loving community. He made me laugh, he helped me feel accepted, and even though I’m not “Christian”, his words, his teaching, and his personality are a large part of the reason that I was a semi-regular at that church the first several years that I lived in LA.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Sunday Scribblings: "The Books I would write..."
OH... the books I would write... would be full of romance and adventure. They would capture the sensuality of dance, in such a way you could reach out and touch it like a freshly-picked rose petal. They would have mysterious places, full of fascinating creatures and mythical monsters.
The books I would write would capitvate the reader's soul, ignite their passions and invigorate their imaginations.
The books I would write would have a soundtrack of deeply beating drums, and haunting bagpipes.
There would be misty lakes in long forgotten forests, and intense and powerful women with hidden pasts full of intrigue. The animals would talk, the trees would listen, and the very Mother Earth herself would open up her caves and let you descend down into the depths of her core, where she would nuture and teach you and hold you safe when all other things seemed uncertain.
The books i would write would always believe in true love, always champion the honest and faithful, always hold aloft the hard-working, well meaning hero who acts from integrity, even when he's spent his last nickel, drunk his last bit of water, and lost his last lucky marble.
The books I would write would come from my highest self, and exist in such a place, that even if No one else ever read them.... I would be able to take them off the shelf, and leaf through their pages on my darkest days, and remind myself that deep down inside, I am a courageous warrior for hope and a staunch believer in happy endings.
The books I would write would inspire, reach, rejuvinate and embrace the very best parts of me, and by doing so.... renew the spirit that allows me to share that piece of me with all the rest of the world.
For more Sunday Scribblings, go here!!
The books I would write would capitvate the reader's soul, ignite their passions and invigorate their imaginations.
The books I would write would have a soundtrack of deeply beating drums, and haunting bagpipes.
There would be misty lakes in long forgotten forests, and intense and powerful women with hidden pasts full of intrigue. The animals would talk, the trees would listen, and the very Mother Earth herself would open up her caves and let you descend down into the depths of her core, where she would nuture and teach you and hold you safe when all other things seemed uncertain.
The books i would write would always believe in true love, always champion the honest and faithful, always hold aloft the hard-working, well meaning hero who acts from integrity, even when he's spent his last nickel, drunk his last bit of water, and lost his last lucky marble.
The books I would write would come from my highest self, and exist in such a place, that even if No one else ever read them.... I would be able to take them off the shelf, and leaf through their pages on my darkest days, and remind myself that deep down inside, I am a courageous warrior for hope and a staunch believer in happy endings.
The books I would write would inspire, reach, rejuvinate and embrace the very best parts of me, and by doing so.... renew the spirit that allows me to share that piece of me with all the rest of the world.
For more Sunday Scribblings, go here!!
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Light fare: The A - Z of Me
Hello lovies. Don't want to feel like I'm neglecting this blog, but the desk has beome a busy place these days. So here is something light and informative to entertain you, while I continue to process a few things before expressing them to you. May your week bring you joy.
Accent: Don't really have one, unless I'm way drunk or way tired.... and they you'll hear that Southern upbringing creep in.
Booze: I'll always love a good Cabernet or a quality Tequilla.
Chore I Hate: Filing
Dogs/Cats: Love Love Love the fluffies! (although as they said in "The Truth about Cats & Dogs.... "it's ok to love your pets. Just don't LOVE your pets."
Essential Electronics: Cell phone!
Favorite Perfume/Cologne: I wear oils mostly. A good amber, or a spicy vanilla
Gold/Silver: Sliver, possible white gold, Platnium is best!
Hometown: Brandon, FL (just outside of Tampa)
Insomnia: Ugh... last night, from 4am - 6am
Job Title: Several.... Exec assistant, Studio Tour Guide, Dance teacher in training
Kids: 3- all are small, furry and wake me to tiny kisses and meows
Living Arrangements: 2 bedroom near the park
Most Admired Trait: Public poll seems to agree, it's my ass.
Number of Sexual Partners: currently.... just the one
(but oh the days of the "Haitian Boat" are legendary.)
Overnight Hospital Stays: no.... actually. Out patienct surgery only
Phobia: Ich Nasty.... Spiders.... Ew!
Quote: "One runs the risk of weeping a little when one lets oneself be tamed." (translated from Antoine de Saint Exupery)
Religion: Spiritual practice, but no organized religion for me, thanks.
Siblings: nope
Time I usually wake up: after the snooze alarm has been hit at least 3 times
Unusual Talent: The abillity to end up in bizarre conversations at the most unlikely times, with complete strangers.
Vegetable I refuse to eat: Tomatos (are those fruits?) and Mushrooms... ICK
Worst Habit: Tardiness
X-Rays: A few... a while ago tho..... back in college, i believe
Yummy Foods I Make: Stuffed Grape Leaves
Zodiac Sign: Sun: Sagittarius Rising:Cancer Moon: Scorpio
Accent: Don't really have one, unless I'm way drunk or way tired.... and they you'll hear that Southern upbringing creep in.
Booze: I'll always love a good Cabernet or a quality Tequilla.
Chore I Hate: Filing
Dogs/Cats: Love Love Love the fluffies! (although as they said in "The Truth about Cats & Dogs.... "it's ok to love your pets. Just don't LOVE your pets."
Essential Electronics: Cell phone!
Favorite Perfume/Cologne: I wear oils mostly. A good amber, or a spicy vanilla
Gold/Silver: Sliver, possible white gold, Platnium is best!
Hometown: Brandon, FL (just outside of Tampa)
Insomnia: Ugh... last night, from 4am - 6am
Job Title: Several.... Exec assistant, Studio Tour Guide, Dance teacher in training
Kids: 3- all are small, furry and wake me to tiny kisses and meows
Living Arrangements: 2 bedroom near the park
Most Admired Trait: Public poll seems to agree, it's my ass.
Number of Sexual Partners: currently.... just the one
(but oh the days of the "Haitian Boat" are legendary.)
Overnight Hospital Stays: no.... actually. Out patienct surgery only
Phobia: Ich Nasty.... Spiders.... Ew!
Quote: "One runs the risk of weeping a little when one lets oneself be tamed." (translated from Antoine de Saint Exupery)
Religion: Spiritual practice, but no organized religion for me, thanks.
Siblings: nope
Time I usually wake up: after the snooze alarm has been hit at least 3 times
Unusual Talent: The abillity to end up in bizarre conversations at the most unlikely times, with complete strangers.
Vegetable I refuse to eat: Tomatos (are those fruits?) and Mushrooms... ICK
Worst Habit: Tardiness
X-Rays: A few... a while ago tho..... back in college, i believe
Yummy Foods I Make: Stuffed Grape Leaves
Zodiac Sign: Sun: Sagittarius Rising:Cancer Moon: Scorpio
Monday, May 08, 2006
Swamped, Scattered yet Smiling
but also bouncing down the road... Things have taken an up. I spent one day last week finally rewarding myself (as i have planned to do since I moved to LA nearly 10 years ago) with a day at the San Diego zoo.
and I spent one evening talking to someone who it felt like I've known all my life.
Between the two enriching moments, I am renewed, and hoping to get things shifting back into forward motion.
and I spent one evening talking to someone who it felt like I've known all my life.
Between the two enriching moments, I am renewed, and hoping to get things shifting back into forward motion.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Knotted Shoelaces
she said:
Here is to untangling. Here is to making different choices. Here is to forgiving ourselves when we forget to do the work or simply don't know how to do it differently.
And those words reverberate through my soul. Untangling. Oh god, how I need to untangle. I've been so wrapped up, thought upon thought, always in motion, going, going, going, and when my body drops into sickness because it's exhausted from constant commotion, I pop a couple of Vitamin C's and continue to go some more.
Ever get a knot in your shoelaces when you were in a hurry to be somewhere? You tug and you struggle and you fight and you get very very frustrated. You might huff angrily. You might give up. You might throw that shoe against the wall in a fit of pique, choosing instead something that slips on.... but the simple fact is that the next time you want to wear those shoes (and you'll probably be in a hurry then TOO), they will still have that damn knot in them. And they will continue to have that knot, until you slow down long enough to untangle it.
I"ve had a knot in my shoelaces (and a twist in my knickers) since... well.. probably 2004. When I walked away from a partner, when I attempted to go back to school, when I sold my soul to the evil Mouse theatre people. And even though I see it, this mad obsessive urge to run full tilt, and I get the costs of those actions..... I still keep going. I'm running as if my life depended on it. And the irony is, I seem to be running FROM my life.
If the first step to healing the problem is really ADMITTING the problem, then let me be here to say.... I have a problem. I can't slow down. I'm ... I don't know... afraid. If I look really closely, the disappointment, the resignation, the anger, the lack of hope.... it will swallow me. No... not swallow. Consume, with a violent gnashing of teeth.
So I keep going, keep running. Can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man, in the best sprinting shoes Adidas or Nike can make. You know the ones, with the velcro strapps.... so i don't have to slow down and unknot those damn laces.
But in my pocket, there's a tiny piece of paper, which my fingers fiddle with, like the smooth surfaces of an over-used worry stone. And on that paper are the magic words.... "Here is to untangling. Here is to making different choices."
Here is to untangling. Here is to making different choices. Here is to forgiving ourselves when we forget to do the work or simply don't know how to do it differently.
And those words reverberate through my soul. Untangling. Oh god, how I need to untangle. I've been so wrapped up, thought upon thought, always in motion, going, going, going, and when my body drops into sickness because it's exhausted from constant commotion, I pop a couple of Vitamin C's and continue to go some more.
Ever get a knot in your shoelaces when you were in a hurry to be somewhere? You tug and you struggle and you fight and you get very very frustrated. You might huff angrily. You might give up. You might throw that shoe against the wall in a fit of pique, choosing instead something that slips on.... but the simple fact is that the next time you want to wear those shoes (and you'll probably be in a hurry then TOO), they will still have that damn knot in them. And they will continue to have that knot, until you slow down long enough to untangle it.
I"ve had a knot in my shoelaces (and a twist in my knickers) since... well.. probably 2004. When I walked away from a partner, when I attempted to go back to school, when I sold my soul to the evil Mouse theatre people. And even though I see it, this mad obsessive urge to run full tilt, and I get the costs of those actions..... I still keep going. I'm running as if my life depended on it. And the irony is, I seem to be running FROM my life.
If the first step to healing the problem is really ADMITTING the problem, then let me be here to say.... I have a problem. I can't slow down. I'm ... I don't know... afraid. If I look really closely, the disappointment, the resignation, the anger, the lack of hope.... it will swallow me. No... not swallow. Consume, with a violent gnashing of teeth.
So I keep going, keep running. Can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man, in the best sprinting shoes Adidas or Nike can make. You know the ones, with the velcro strapps.... so i don't have to slow down and unknot those damn laces.
But in my pocket, there's a tiny piece of paper, which my fingers fiddle with, like the smooth surfaces of an over-used worry stone. And on that paper are the magic words.... "Here is to untangling. Here is to making different choices."
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Sometimes My Tries are Outside the Lines
Picture me in a house with no lights on, soaking in salts blessed in ritual, doing what my friends call "the bathtub cry." A safe place when tears can sink into suds and no one knows the wiser. Looking at my life and wondering just how many mistakes one can cram in to 34 years of living.
Makes it a little hard to just get up and keep going the next morning, I tell ya.
And then on the ride in, I hear a song. Oh, I've heard it before....dozens of times. It's LA radio, they play the same 25 songs in constant rotation. However, today, I caught it right at the beginning, and it spoke to me, silly as it is....and as I pulled into the garage at work, I was singing along, rejuvinated (and just a little bit hopeful) once more.
Makes it a little hard to just get up and keep going the next morning, I tell ya.
And then on the ride in, I hear a song. Oh, I've heard it before....dozens of times. It's LA radio, they play the same 25 songs in constant rotation. However, today, I caught it right at the beginning, and it spoke to me, silly as it is....and as I pulled into the garage at work, I was singing along, rejuvinated (and just a little bit hopeful) once more.
"Unwritten"
I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
I break tradition,
sometimes my tries are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes,
but I can't live that way
(chorus)
Thursday, April 20, 2006
The Falling of the Axe
So remember how I've referenced those anger issues? Specifically how there is one particular person in my life that I'm angry at, but had not yet figured out how to properly express it? Well, damn if that little problem hasn't been solved for me.
Sent at 2:39am today, is one of the most scathing hate-mails I have ever received in my life. Nearly unreadable in its rambling (not to mention large number of typos, lack of punctuation, capitalization or even an ATTEMPT at grammar), it accuses me of being ragingly immature and petty in my jealousies. It uses statements (told to him in confidence) as weapons, aimed back at me. It dredges up issues from last year that haven't been on the table since then, and tells me that clearly I am not over them yet. In short, it batters me with abusive language, slanders our friendship and then drops the executioner's blade without allowing me a moment's say in the decision.
Considering that I had already been tentatively contemplating ending the friendship due to the disrespect and mistreatment.... one might call this a moment of Ferocious Serendipity
All day I have vacillated between responding kindly ("I understand that you are going through a difficult time. I will be your friend should you wish to resume that at some point"), responding cruelly ("Clearly your observations of human nature are as vacuous as your grasp on literacy") and not responding at all. To return the serve is to swing my racket at yet another time-bomb, and I'm wounded already.
My anger stands in an awkward place, torn between defending my right to be treated well, and my compassion to reach out to some one so obviously in pain. However, the lesson that seems to be reoccurring at this time in my life is about caring and nurturing myself first and foremost. And as challenging as that is right now, it is what I have decided to do.
Good Bye Pup. I wish you healing on your journey. But I can't go another step along that path. No.... not "I can't".... I won't. I have healthier things to do with my time, my intentions and my affections.
Sent at 2:39am today, is one of the most scathing hate-mails I have ever received in my life. Nearly unreadable in its rambling (not to mention large number of typos, lack of punctuation, capitalization or even an ATTEMPT at grammar), it accuses me of being ragingly immature and petty in my jealousies. It uses statements (told to him in confidence) as weapons, aimed back at me. It dredges up issues from last year that haven't been on the table since then, and tells me that clearly I am not over them yet. In short, it batters me with abusive language, slanders our friendship and then drops the executioner's blade without allowing me a moment's say in the decision.
Considering that I had already been tentatively contemplating ending the friendship due to the disrespect and mistreatment.... one might call this a moment of Ferocious Serendipity
All day I have vacillated between responding kindly ("I understand that you are going through a difficult time. I will be your friend should you wish to resume that at some point"), responding cruelly ("Clearly your observations of human nature are as vacuous as your grasp on literacy") and not responding at all. To return the serve is to swing my racket at yet another time-bomb, and I'm wounded already.
My anger stands in an awkward place, torn between defending my right to be treated well, and my compassion to reach out to some one so obviously in pain. However, the lesson that seems to be reoccurring at this time in my life is about caring and nurturing myself first and foremost. And as challenging as that is right now, it is what I have decided to do.
Good Bye Pup. I wish you healing on your journey. But I can't go another step along that path. No.... not "I can't".... I won't. I have healthier things to do with my time, my intentions and my affections.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Taking my Lumps
“The more time I spend in my body, the more difficult it is to lie.”
That’s the first line of a hand written journal entry I started last week. I only got down that first line before being distracted, so it is all that exists of that entry. However, last night, as I lay awake with wicked insomnia, it occurred to me again.
I am in the middle of a shift. A shift of body and mind and soul. A shift that is taking frustratingly long. I had a healing sometime last year, because I’d been feeling that “my skin doesn’t fit” itch. The healer spoke of angels and spirit guides, and said that they wanted to let me know that I was preparing for a shift (it was nice to have this verified, without asking about it or bringing it up at all). However, they wanted to let me know that said shift would occur in 3 – 6 years.
Now I know it’s not polite, but I believe I responded with “What the f’k?”
Throughout the healing, he would talk of all the work I’d done and how I was molding into this new soul form and each time, he would begin to hint that perhaps the shift would occur sooner, and then he’d stop mid sentence and say “3 – 6 years”. Eventually, he stopped mid-sentence and laughed and said “NO… they appreciate all the work you’re doing, and you need to keep doing it, but they want to make it very clear…. It’s 3 – 6 years. Stop pushing!”
Ever had your hand slapped by a spirit guide? I had to laugh.
That was a year ago, and the ever-crawling snail's pace of this shift is driving me bonkers. I’m doing some work, and I think the dancing is a large part of that. Dancing has always been a joy for me, but now it’s like life’s blood. I can’t do well without it. My sanity is becoming directly tied to my ability to be in my body and work it as a form of expression. However, this new level of personal intimacy has brought with it greater awareness and less tolerance for bullshit.
The last two weeks, I’ve had a series of health issues. Nothing drastic. A migraine, on top of food poisoning, last night’s insomnia, and now this morning, my throat is swollen so much I’m having trouble swallowing. Throat issues often relate to “not speaking one’s truth”. And that’s certainly the case here, as I am dealing with a great deal of anger towards someone very dear to me. Someone who needed a friend once and I was there, but now… they prefer a fan club, and when I don’t wish to be relegated to just another of the adoring masses, I get shut out.
Insomnia makes sense, as my soul is restless indeed. The anger has also stirred up my ideas on love, friendship, relationships, what it means to be self-sufficient versus self-involved.
...
And here the writing flow just dams up. Grrr. I guess that is to say, I don’t have words of resolution for this issues I am facing. And thus my body is turning on itself and growling and consuming itself. As much as I would like to run, avoid, or pretend that these ugly questions are not staring me in the face, my newly ‘tuned in’ body will not let that deception pass.
I find it fascinating and challenging that I cannot lie to myself- that the shift of living in what is real and what is now is REALLY beginning to manifest physically. Additionally, I would be VERY excited about it… if it weren’t kicking my ass up and down the block.
That’s the first line of a hand written journal entry I started last week. I only got down that first line before being distracted, so it is all that exists of that entry. However, last night, as I lay awake with wicked insomnia, it occurred to me again.
I am in the middle of a shift. A shift of body and mind and soul. A shift that is taking frustratingly long. I had a healing sometime last year, because I’d been feeling that “my skin doesn’t fit” itch. The healer spoke of angels and spirit guides, and said that they wanted to let me know that I was preparing for a shift (it was nice to have this verified, without asking about it or bringing it up at all). However, they wanted to let me know that said shift would occur in 3 – 6 years.
Now I know it’s not polite, but I believe I responded with “What the f’k?”
Throughout the healing, he would talk of all the work I’d done and how I was molding into this new soul form and each time, he would begin to hint that perhaps the shift would occur sooner, and then he’d stop mid sentence and say “3 – 6 years”. Eventually, he stopped mid-sentence and laughed and said “NO… they appreciate all the work you’re doing, and you need to keep doing it, but they want to make it very clear…. It’s 3 – 6 years. Stop pushing!”
Ever had your hand slapped by a spirit guide? I had to laugh.
That was a year ago, and the ever-crawling snail's pace of this shift is driving me bonkers. I’m doing some work, and I think the dancing is a large part of that. Dancing has always been a joy for me, but now it’s like life’s blood. I can’t do well without it. My sanity is becoming directly tied to my ability to be in my body and work it as a form of expression. However, this new level of personal intimacy has brought with it greater awareness and less tolerance for bullshit.
The last two weeks, I’ve had a series of health issues. Nothing drastic. A migraine, on top of food poisoning, last night’s insomnia, and now this morning, my throat is swollen so much I’m having trouble swallowing. Throat issues often relate to “not speaking one’s truth”. And that’s certainly the case here, as I am dealing with a great deal of anger towards someone very dear to me. Someone who needed a friend once and I was there, but now… they prefer a fan club, and when I don’t wish to be relegated to just another of the adoring masses, I get shut out.
Insomnia makes sense, as my soul is restless indeed. The anger has also stirred up my ideas on love, friendship, relationships, what it means to be self-sufficient versus self-involved.
...
And here the writing flow just dams up. Grrr. I guess that is to say, I don’t have words of resolution for this issues I am facing. And thus my body is turning on itself and growling and consuming itself. As much as I would like to run, avoid, or pretend that these ugly questions are not staring me in the face, my newly ‘tuned in’ body will not let that deception pass.
I find it fascinating and challenging that I cannot lie to myself- that the shift of living in what is real and what is now is REALLY beginning to manifest physically. Additionally, I would be VERY excited about it… if it weren’t kicking my ass up and down the block.
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