Sexuality and the Gender Game

What does it mean to be a man? Well, I can only hope to answer that by knowing what it means to be a woman. There is a great amount of power in being woman. The divine feminine is wonderful. It drives the male aspects of life into action. Wars are won and lost over women. The power they drive into the universe is life giving, and endulgent. It opens the heart, clears the soul, and feels good. It has the power to sway mens minds, and shape the future of the world. Woman is one of the strongest occurances of nature. So what does it actually mean to BE woman? Soft, gentle, caring, loving, emotional, vulnerable. These are all things we assosiate with woman. But can she also be Fire, Ice, Strong? Yes. Woman wears many faces, but none of them so powerful as woman. A true woman has mastered herself and knows the feminine nature of all elements. She enhances those sides of things and in turn demands that the men in her life be Men. This is power.. In it's rawest, ultimate form.

Hara

Hara is not just a place. There is the physical location in the body three tsun below the naval in the center of the body. The place where all movement is supposed to originate. If you allow movement to come from this core in the body You can move longer and father. Hara, however, is far more than just that. It is the center of all movement and therefore not just a physical locale, but a spiritual one as well. We each have a Hara. We each have a place along the spiritual path we're taking that gives us our Hara. Depending on our individual Hara we each move differently. When we move through this location we are more powerful and we move farther. Each of us is in our own journey to discover our Hara and how to move through it. It creates more fluid movements, transitions, and allows movement to reach further than it has before. With our Hara driving us we can do things that would normally wear us out. Hara is not just a physical location at all, but it is more assuredly a phylosophical place as well.

It's Been a While

I figured I should journal out some things since it's been a while. I went to the doctor today. Took me a week to get an apointment with Beale AFB. But I finally fixed it. Like everything else in my life if I don't do it, it'll never happen. I had to have some blood work done because I dropped 30lbs in a week. Aparently that's not normal. I have no apetite. I mean I still want a hamburger, but I couldn't actually eat one. I put food in my mouth and it makes me gag. And if I get it into my stomach it doesn't stay there long. They tested and came back with elevated thyroid levels. Add to this the skin condition I've been dealing with and the nerve sensitivity. I feel like a basket case. I have always known there was something wrong, that I was slightly sick. Now to have a name to put on it? Wow. This might be a little more than I Had hoped to deal with right now. My life would seem to be ripping at the seams like some old linen dress worn to one too many parties. Thin, and thread worn it barely holds on for dear life. As it moves and sways it can't hardly keep it self together, but some how manages to get thrown in the closet one last time. I wonder if there's still any life left in these threads. Will they be able to hang on for one more wear?

Oh! You Piss Me Off!!

I am not fond of people being indirect. There is a difference between indirect and descrete. Do not confuse the two. That much will cost you an arm, a leg, and most likely your soul. Not because I am distinctly evil, but because I will always know exactly what buttons to push to push you away. The real question is are you willing to fight back? Do you have the constitution, and fortitude to know that what I'm doing is protecting that piece of me I tried to give someone once. I can't tell you why it is this way. I know that I'm always the one who say's that scars tell us where we've been and not where we're going, but the reality is that I still feel them. You can either accept that, or move on. It's up to you. I am not one for ultimatums, but we're dealing with my future here and I feel I have the right to voice my opinion. Your conduct is unacceptable. Not just for me, some of it socially. I just can't deal with this any other way than logical. I'm sorry if that's unacceptable but it's where I am right now. Love me or leave me, I own this.

All I Wanna Do Is Love You

If I could have the chance to make things that went wrong right I would give my last breath. I am a healer. I am a good woman who is trying to make good choices. I fall, I falter, I make mistakes. I am an imperfect human being in a perfect world. I want to have my life back! I want to feel again! I want to believe that everything I've wanted is something I deserve. I want to be fun, and laugh. I want to remember what it was like to be stressed, not be in a position where I'm not eating because of the stress. I can not keep this up. I must get my life back. I just can't seem to find it in this mess I've made. I want to be free to do what I know I love. I want to be free to love who I love. I suppose that this Abrihamic test everyone keeps telling me I have to pass is learning to give up the desire to have the control. I've never been good at allowing someone else to have control over what I was, or how I lived. Now, I don't have a choice. I want to love you. I want more for you to love me back. Just make the choice and love me back!

I Can't Do It Anymore

I can't do it anymore. I can't remember and hurt. I can't have my stomach in knots everytime I think of you, or hear your name. I can't feel the sickening feeling of loss after each break in contact. I can't know that there are things I don't know and probably don't want to. I can't deal with the fact that you cut me off and wont even give me a chance to explain myself. I can't remember how it felt and then know you've taken it away without giving me a chance to have a say in the matter. I can't deal with the memories creeping back everytime I go through things that once belonged to you. I can't have boxes unopened because your stuff is in them. I can't heal while knowing there is a reason you did all of this and you wont give it to me. I can't handle not being able to breathe without you here. I can't push forward knowing it was the pushing forward that drove you away. I can't smile when I'm feeling so miserable inside. I can't hold it together when I'm falling apart inside without you. I can't continue to wait for your decision when it leaves me physically ill. I can't keep doing this! I know what I've seen, I know what I've felt, I know the answer I got. Lord grant me the strength to survive this I pray, but I can't do it forever. My body wont let me.

Rules

#1 Don't lie to me.
#2 No Tickling.
#3 No picking me up.
#4 No cheating.
#5 No disapearing without notice.
#6 If there's something that I do that bothers you tell me calmly.
#7 Be patient while I change the things I do wrong.
#8 Don't believe that just because my expectations are impossibly high you're viewed as a failure.
#9 Remember me.
#10 Believe me when I say 'I love you'.
#11 If you must leave me do it quickly. Don't lead me on, or try to be friends.
#12 I will believe, hope, want, and express things that are far into the future. I will not expect them to happen imediately and I don't want you to stress about them. I just need to say them out loud.
#13 Hold me when I cry.
#14 No faking it.
#15 I will forgive you, if you will forgive me and we agree to never do it again.
#16 There will be more rules.
#17 If I give you my loyalty I expect your love and devotion in return.
#18 Nothing comes without a price.
#19 Don't lose the connection by going some place else. Give me your thoughts, and help me help you.
#20 You will give me the inner most piece of you. I will make it worth your while, but if you expect me to stick around forever you will give it to me.
#21 Talk to me.
#22 Discuss big decisions with me. Things like cars, houses, trips, career changes are big devisions. We should make them together.
#23 Listen to my feelings. I wont expect you to fix all of them, but it will help you understand me. And allow me to let them go.
#24 Give me your thoughts.
#25 Need me.
#26 Tell me you need me.
#27 Be articulate. Even if it's only when you give me your thoughts.
#28 I don't like games, I'm assuming you don't either. Be direct. It elliminates the 'game' aspect of things and keeps it all very clear. No room for interpertations, assumptions, or miscommunications.
#29 Love me or set me free. Playing me like a yo-yo may seem to work for you, but it does not work for me. It should only take you a moment to decide who you want.
#30 If we are in this for the Eternities I AM YOUR FAMILY. I shouldn't have to compete with the extended family for your attention. Build your traditions and life with me and I will give you everything you could imagine. Continue to go back and I will leave you behind.

Are We There Yet?

I had a massage instructor who had the best answer to that question. "You're already there, you just haven't arrived.". Seriously, Think about that for just a moment. Those of people with an eternal perspective probably catch on far quicker than those without. I have every bit of confidence everyone will catch it though.

We are already there. Our bodies, and minds know exactly where our choices are going even if our hearts don't. We come to this Earth with everything needed to heal ourselves. Heal emotionally and physically. Our 'energy' permiates the world around us so deeply that it can be photographed. We sense things and know that there are people who are endlessly important to us. Chance encounters that give us a 'gut feeling' that we've known this person before. Almost like there is a piece of us living out this life before we even get there. In the end we all die. Some of us die faster than the rest of you, but it is the great equalizer. No one escapes death. It's hands are not cold, they are liberating. Death brings us to our final destination. The point in time that we have been striving to arrive at. The blessed moment when all that we are, ever have been, and could become is ours. We struggle and strain, we work and toil, we labor ceaselessly to arrive at a point. Death opens the door we've been knocking on and checks us in. I doubt that any of us are truely ready to arrive. We think we are so prepared, we believe we have it all down, but the moment we see the warm light from the other side of deaths door we wince knowing we weren't quiet ready. How can this be? simple. . . We're already there, we just haven't arrived. We know before the door opens what lies on the otherside. We've spent our whole lives either frittering away and not arriving, or walking towards what we know is there. So, the next time someone asks "Are we there yet?" the answer should be " We're already there, We just haven't arrived.".

Currently Epic

In the currently epic words of Live ". . . Burnt to the core but not broken. . " I have passed my nationals exam and can now add LMT ,or CMT to my name. I have lost my marriage, my friend, my future lover, my apitite, and my will. I aparently am burnt to the core, but not broken.
In Wine country there is a little known ritual that usually escapes anyone who doesn't actually grow the grapes, or live there long enough to see a truely devistating fire. If there is a fire the first thing you do is try to put it out and stop it from burning everything( yes I know that's cow sense, but hear me out). The second thing you do is check the vines that have been burnt to see if the fire reached to the core, or if it has left the roots and stock intact. If the stock is still good you can expect to have new leaves next year, and new grapes soon after. If it is burnt through you must check the roots. If the root is still good the plant can be salvaged. It is a long arduous process and it takes many many years to recover the fruit. You may not be submitting wine at next years wine tasting, but you will be able to recover the thing you love. . . Your vineyard. I am burnt. I am burnt past the outer layers and into my core. I hurt, I bleed, I cry, I pray, I lament, I mourn, I am burnt. Passing this exam proves that there is a sign of life. A root that is still good. It will be many years before fruit is produced, but in the mean time there will be subsiquent signs of life. They will be small, and even I may miss them from time to time. I have no idea what to do besides do what had been planed. To not deviate from the mission plan and continue trudging forward like nothing has changed. To show that I am standing, and have been standing, on my own. That I survive everything that happens no matter how deeply it burns. To prove that even if I may not have seemed like I was worth it before, I AM the best thing that will ever happen to you. You will NOT forget me. I will haunt the most quiet moments of your day, and the most silent beatings of your heart. I will be there. Because roots reach far deeper into our souls. I will not be there in anger, but in love. In pure, uninhibited, unconditional love. The kind of love that heals us when we have nothing left to give. The kind of love that pours energy into our being when we open ourselves to it. The kind of love that accepts our mistakes and tells us that we are loved anyway. THAT is how I will be felt. With the surest knowledge that the plant, and the fruit are good. That putting the effort into the vineyard to recover the plant is more important than replacing it with a new one. It will be hard work, but it will pay off. And the gratitude of a plant who's been tended, and loved after this kind of a disaster is one hundredfold every time.

Burnt to the core, but not broken.

Pain

To every man I have ever loved who has never loved me back,

I'm sorry that I could not satisfy your lust for female flesh. I'm never going to understand the selfishness of your rejection. to lead me on and then tell me to go away? that doesn't seem very decent at all. The fact that you couldn't just make your intentions known was hurtful, and mean. There are girls who would have been very receptive to your advances. They would have jumped at the chance to just be your bedmate. If the fact that I wanted a companion wasn't in your plan all you had to do was tell me. I don't mind at all! In fact I perfer the honesty. I suppose that the biggest part of all this is the fact that I can get pretty attached quickly. I know that that is intimidating and can be overwhelming. For that, I am sorry. I only hope that at sometime you will be mature enough to realize that girls like me are few and far between. That we don't come very often. That the loyalty that we have learned is the best form of love you will find. I forgive you for breaking my heart, and being the jerk/player that you are. Deb... just plain, simple 'ol Deb.

Super Heros and Demi-Gods

I have had the opportunity to discover that I truely do live in the greatest country in the world. Most people leave the country and come back with a profound sense of humility and wax elliquent about how much we could learn from these foriegn countries. Leave it to me to come home sauntering back with an ego the size of Texas.
I feel that our super hero's are a reflection of what we know to be great. We see the best in ourselves and cling to these DC created demi-gods. The most supernal aspects of our culture as Americans are colorfully portrayed on the canvas of chemically treated comics. These superhuman super heros are always American, or at least given to an American family. They are our divine alter ego's, whos world saving actions have been performed by soldiers and citizens for centuries. We have saved Europe from it's tiranical exploits. We have stood-up to the mass-murdering geneocides, and protected the underdogs from extinction(Convenient since I'm a dog person). We have assymilated millions of refugies who flee their country illegally. We educate, medicate, feed, clothe, and allow them to strip billions from our economy and send it back home. We have stopped Europes blood-lettings in WW1 and WW2 before tending to our own wounds. We ARE the Spidermans, Batmans, Supermen, and Wonderwomen of the world. We have always been this. It probably wont change until our "older siblings" can remember their mistakes and admit that we totally saved their trash.

Nothing is a Mistake

If we are to believe that mistakes don't happen and everything happens for a reason. . . Than we are made wiser by our discomfort and mare more empathetical, a better shoulder to cry on and a better ear to listen. That being said; the question of whether a practicle knowledge is required to truely understand the depths of others emotions is unreasonable. Is there not a supernal instinct that tells us to what degree another feels an emotion. It gives us moments to reference and memories to help spurn the emotions within ourselves. That we must undergo the same identical moments in time is like asking someone to give you the perspective of another. It will never be exactly the same, nor should it. If we claim a divine nature than the question is moot. We need not see exactly what someone else see's to know it's their vision. To call them a liar as they recount what they see is naive and childish. We see what we see, and experience what we experience. Our paradigm colored by the filters we were born with based on personality and upbringing. Our rights to personal revelation and personal interpretation do not limit our vision. Simply make it different.
So then why are they not mistakes. If they are not neccissary? and when we are in the moment how are we to indulge in enjoying it, or thoughtfully ponder it's greater ramifications? Do we savor the emotions and the sensations? Perhaps we should be more stoic and not indulge the emotional side of the brain at all. Contemplating the number of broken promises, broken hearts,and otherwise painful outcomes it would indeed make sense. Indulging in the beauty and rapture of the senses does have is benefits that is certain. So the Supernal gift we received to know and understand others emotions should also guide us in determining when these sensual moments should be taken. It is still a mystery as to whether or not these moments are mistakes until after they've been taken. But are they truly mistakes at all. They do often guide us to people and places we would never have otherwise encountered. Perhaps they are only mistakes is we regret having done them.

Gods and Goddesses in Embryo

There are theories about the origins of man. About God and Man. But whether the demons are real or ficticious explainations about why some of us carry bigger demons than others seem to ellude us. They strangle us and control us. Yet some how we manage the courage to fight back. Almost as if we believe that in fighting we will earn our birth right. We give our souls in the fight and pray with an almost blind hope that God will recognize our efforts and save our souls regardless of the lost war. That our birth right will still be ours and the cost will have been paid in full.
To be stripped of your rights. Your birthright. People can believe in some of the most arcaic things. But the moment you tell them you believe in a divine birth right and a divine order YOU'RE the one stuck in the dark ages. It would be easier if you were. There are not dragons to steal your livelihood. No dark knights waiting to condemn you. It is only an unseen foe. A battle of the mind and will. You'll be luck to get out with your soul let alone your birthright. The enemy is advanced and has experience beyond our mortal comprehension in the skills of war and eternal combat.

I Just Wanna Have a Good Time, Just Like Everybody Else.

We force some memories to the back of our minds. They are painful, and distressing, and if we remember them they will paralyze us. We tell ourselves that if no one knows, if we don't speak it, write it, or have photo's than it never happened. History is what we hear, see, or read. Nothing else. So we hide them knowing that if there is no record than it never happened. Something that works very well when your looking at sin and the miracle of forgiveness. But they did happen. These things were real. They ARE. and they are not just because they happened, but because even if your mind did not chose to remember it, the body does.
The body remembers every punch, every kick, every name called, every head slammed into the walls or sinks, every burn, every poke, every cut, everything. It's almost more traumatic when the mind refuses to remember and the body forces it's memories to the surface. It's almost desturbing when you begin to realize that some of the patterns you have as an adult stem from these events in childhood. It's scary to recognize that you spent almost everyday since you were 3 defending yourself against the violence, and not telling a soul to keep it from getting worse. You're left wondering why you were picked. Why did no one else get hurt? what was so different about you that everyone ganged up on you. And why were you not safe? Even in the places of worship you recieved this treatment. Those people were supposed to be better than the rest. They were supposed to be kind, loving, indifferent. You are left with questions that taste almost as bad as they sound. Worst of all no one seems to care. The indifference and lack of shock at the fact that you could be treated that way almost seems to cement into reality that you deserve this treatment. That THIS is the way you are supposed to live your life. You ARE the scape goat. Deserved or not, the punishment is yours to take. Even if you didn't commit the crime.
Perhaps it's punishment for future wrongs you will commit. Or maybe the universe is just that messed up. Either way, the only way you'll ever wrap your mind around it is to act like it never happened. Never speak of it, never remember. Until someone tries to get close and you wont let them. Then in terror, throw up the defenses and sabatoge every attempt to get in. They'll see the scars, and that would mean it really happened.

As Yet Untitled

It is a strange place to be when you recognize that you have no loyalties to your family, or its standard. When the things that drew you all together are no longer the motivating factor in your life. To be able to look at them and say, truely, honestly, I do not feel for you the sense of comitment and unfettered devotion I did. Words could probably not exclaim the deepest depths of the casim that has seperated us. The inhibited understanding and lack of candor are just the tip of the mountian peaks. I no longer feel tied to the eternal bonds of family. Knowing that regardless of who I have become I will always been the same in your eyes leaves me no reason to come home. I wonder, as I set out on this newest adventure if I will ever return. I begin to think not and can trace that thought all the way back to the words that were said, and the ones left unspoken. We are not nice to each other. We dial down the affection we so desperately need, and desire; cutting off the ones who could truely help us. Unable to see past the mistakes made and the hardships endured to know that sometimes, every now and again, even children grow up to be people. It is hard though, when you've raised someone as your own, to see them as an equal. So I bid fondest fairwells, and brightest blessing. I will return for my Mother, perhaps one day.

Truth

The say that honesty is the best policy. That the truth will set you free. They always forget to mention how badly that all hurts.

Sometimes it must seem endlessly futile to be honest. We tell the truth and still get punished. We lose the things we want most in life and end up standing on the edge of eternity looking in at all the people who are holding everything we want. We lose relationships with people we love, and potential relationships with people we might have loved. We are left with nothing at times. Nothing but the want to take it back. The wonder of seeking some type of cure for all the hurt seems endless. There is rarely a happy ending for those who are honest. Life apears to be passing them by. They watch friends and family marry, have children and grow old. We must just grow old. Alone.

Perhaps someday someone will make it right. But in the mean time it would apear that the lonely are the honest. Even when that honesty has been descretely manifest. Quietly in private, or held in reserve until asked for and delivered tactfully. The loneliest place in this world seems to be held for the honest. We get ourselves into trouble and tattle on ourselves to be honest. The strongest punishment is ours; not the one who held it back and hoped no one would ever find out. No, it would apear that because we 'knew better' we are more severely stricken with consiquences. But if we had truely known better would we have done it in the first place? We love at the cost of our souls sometimes. That is another topic, for another time. The fact remains, we have nothing to show for our honesty but the scars left behind and the pain. And all we really want is for no one to speak of the honest moments that have left us with nothing. We wish to forget that they ever happened,and look back at them only in the intimate moments of trusted companionship. . . which is a debatable probability at best. The children we hoped for will not be ours, the homes we hoped to create will go to someone less honest, the success we aspire to will leave us with our face in the mud.
Honesty, it would seem, is only the best policy for the dis-honest.

Listening

Do we always hear only what we want to hear? Do we sometimes ignore what people are telling us because we secretly hope that it is not so? Is there a momentary pause while we hold our breath hoping the next words are not real? Probably one of the most detrimental things we do to ourselves as well as others is not listen. We close our mind to the words penitrating our ears. As the sound reverbrates across the membrane to the bones that are pulsed by muscles almost too small to see, we are left to interperate what it is we're hearing. Our mind's ears leave some words out, and select the ones that matter. There is a key flaw in this methodology of listening. We loose the information that is intended. We are clouded by the way our paradigm filters the facts. There is no way to see the other point of view or hear what someone is actually saying when we wont accept it. The words can cross the barier all they want, but we don't HEAR them because we wont accept them.
Sometimes these words are painful things. Sometimes it's not what we want to hear. Sometimes we are left with only the want to change the other person's view. This is a hard place to be. It does not feel good, nor does it seem fair. But words inevitably mean things. They have purpose and intensity. When we use them to cover things up, or hide what is true they are hurtful and spiteful. They cause nothing but damage. We loose much when we use words for that purpose. Rarely do words used for deciete get us what we truely want. And words that are used honestly, truthfully are the purest. They bring us exactly what we want. Though not always in the moment. Sometimes we say what is honest ( in a tactful and appropriate way) and we do not get what we think we want. Then later, when we've healed from that childlike initial disapointment, we find what we came for. It is as beautiful as the truth we told.
These are hard facts to learn. We usually keep learning them over and over as we grow old. Our minds must refine the technique and perfect the verbosity and vocabulary, but we eventually get it. Words mean things. . . And we are defined by the words we chose to use, and when we chose to use them.

SUPER Impossed Imposition

I wonder what it is about imposing our own thoughts, feelings and memories onto someone who isn't feeling, thinking or remembering things that way that is so super? Why do we feel the need to believe that just because WE feel something it must be true of the other person. Sometimes, yes I know it's hard to believe, but sometimes how we handled something is NOT how someone else handles the same situation. By super imposing our own interpertation onto the events we miss the mark.
Perhaps too often we confuse passion, or a strong stance for actual emotion. There are pleanty of people out there who are extremely passionate and they may come off angry, or sad, or agressive. There is just a lot of passion behind the strong stance they've taken on an issue. Not to be confused, of course, with the actual emotions these people can feel. But taking time to pause and concider that what we're seeing may be only half the picture. Perhaps the person pushing them into such a passionate defense of their position NEEDS to see that much passion behind it to take it seriously. Call it fault, or folly there are those people out there too. They don't hear you unless you're screaming at them. They don't respond to the quiet, soft, gentle proddings of a bridaled passion. They only understand passion in it's stronges form. Not to say that either of these people don't need a little improvement. I'm just saying if they happen to be matched together, they probably come across as angry regularly. Even though the reality is they just feel VERY strongly about what it is they must defend. Whether we feel it needs to be defended or not is another issue altogether. The point here is that there is nothing SUPER about super imposing our views onto another human being. In another century they called that slavery. Heck, in another existance they called it a bad plan! Because the word SUPER should not be applied when imposing anything.

Colors

The decidant assumptions of over made up barbie dolls.

contusions of ressonant mediocraty,cascadeing the intimate parlors of humanity.

transparent lies pressed and dressed in the most fashionably assynine conversation,

corrupted by the pressense of doctrine of the devil

and companion to the angels.

the colors through which I see the world,

the alchemy of suddenly realising you're worthless.

That Dream Where You're Falling?

Careening down a raging river, or cascading down the side of a cliff. The terror is the same. Reaching for anything that will stop downward movement. Praying for something besides the ground beneath you to break your fall. Panic, Anxiety, fear in all it's spended terror is pulsing with the power of a finely tuned machine through your viens. Adrinaline like NOS forcing your nervous system to put your heart and lungs into over drive. Pupils dialate to find anything you can grab to slow your decent, swirling twisitng flipping you grasp at vines, branches, rocks, and plants. Nothing slows you. Vasodialation at it's fullest your breath becomes deeper and more potent. You're hyperventilating now. You feel out of control and unable to stop the fall. You just want your life back! You want to feel solid ground beneath your feet, and something stable to keep you balanced. No more rolling, falling, tumbling, twisting, just the the solid earth of stability.

Sugar and Spice

Some little girls have more spice than sugar. Sometimes it's nice to have enough spice to add a kick, when appropriate, and enough sugar to make it tolerable. Then there is the matter of what people perfer. Although most would say that they like spice the reality is that they perfer more sugar. But not too much. We all know we can't stand those people who are just sappy happy. They drip ooey gooey sunshine onto EVERYone and EVERYthing. We tend not to like that. SO a balance is everything. Just like in cooking you have to know what spices compliment each other so that we achieve maximum flavor, yet not overwhelming. Funny how life is nothing more than what you make in the kitchen. So I guess the real quetion is what shall I cook today?

No Fancy Titles

It is hard to imagine, thought sadly true, that life could go back to being normal when you've been out of work playing student. Major exams are a thing of the past, and the hardest part of your day is remembering whether or not you've brushed your teeth ( yes, you did.). But inevitably the day comes when you must go to work, grow up, and realize that NOTHING is what it was last month. People now expect you to think when you speak. You have to learn a whole new set of etiquets and rules, there are protocols for EVERYthing. And, heaven forbid, you should forget one you now have to apologise to someone who could be replaced by monkeys. Yes being an adult is a dream, and a nightmare. It is in the midst of this swirling concoction of atiquated ritualistic tourture you realize. . . I'd like to work for myself! You feel empowered and you just KNOW it'll all work out perfectly. Then there you are staring at a bill you can't pay because someone else wont pay you. Funny how that works.
It's much like hitting the tab key in this blog. It creates the appropriate space between this line and the one above. Yet some how, almost magically, you view your finished product only to find that the space indicating a new paragraph is missing. Buggah. Well, not everything can be how we wish. Much like the new language we must learn. Crazy how one must actually THINK before engaging the mastoid, submandibular, andhyoid muscles. It's almost like your words actually mean something now. Not like in college when you could praddle on endlessly about using human anatomy as a pogo-stick and your professor would write a big fat 'A' on the top of the paper just to hurry up and get it out of their hair. No, now those things you think become words you speak, and the words you speak have impact. Gone are the gossip girls prowess. Gone are the moments when back biting and back stabbing were encourage. Gone is the appropriateness of saying whatever you feel.
Welcome to Adulthood. Enjoy your ride.

At the End of the Rainbow

After the burning is gone. After the pain has subsided. When you can no longer feel the twinge in the just left of center in your chest. When your breathing comes easy instead of fighting that overwhelming feeling that someone is preventing you from getting a full breath. When your heart rate returns to normal, and is no longer racing through your chest. When the tears have all dried, and you've finally accepted that it is truely over. That is when you start living, or so they say.
There are moments when you still remember. There are things you still see. Smells that remind you, and words that still make you smile. But the waiting is over and you can finally breathe. This should be the spring of your moments. It should enlighten your soul to dance with great energy across the eternal platform of life. Yet Here is where you are. So very far from where you wish to be. It will have to do, and you are want to make it better. There is no pot of gold waiting at the end of the rainbow. There is no magic, there is no mystery. There is only this world we live in. This is al there is at the end of the rainbow.

The Plot Thickens

Much like a good gravey every plot thickens.
At times I have wondered at the phenomenon of Love. I really do believe that it's more an involuntary reaction to a need for physical contact. When in need of male/female attention we are inclined to find ourselves a companion to fill that void. We find that 'special someone' who will cuddle up on the couch with us and watch a movie. Or we go to bed with them like idiots so we can put freezing hands and feet on them and warm them up. Sometimes we take them out and show them off knowing they'll cling to our arm and make us look good.
I wonder what would happen if the world was just honest about it. " hey! I need some male/female attention! who's gonna fix this tonight?". . . oh wait, that's what happens at bars and night clubs. I guess I forgot. Of course it's a much more subtle way of saying it there. The Coy glances, the flirtaciously killer smile. If everyone knows that they're purpose in your life is simply to fullfill this need do they feel used though? I think not. I believe that when we know our place or roll in someone's life we are much happier. When we have a purpose and an intended use we are much more at ease. There are no awkward tensions, and no misread signs. It's al very straight forward and simple. I know a group of men who know that the only reason they're around is to flirt when flirting is needed, protect when protection is needed, and give long strng hugs when touch is needed. It's amazing how well they perform these duties free of any complaint. Knowing that that's all it is and nothing more is needed they perform with the percision of a neuro-surgen. No need for gooey lovey-dovey sappiness. No fake "I love you"s. It's a very cymbiotic relationship. Lucky for a Little Girl, it seems to be working just fine. Even if it is almost clinical in nature. A prescription filled only when needed.

And It Begins

So aparently You are not allowed to have a facebook account and not have a blog... Not really sure how I feel about that, but here goes. A BLOG, I am most disapointed. I expected some sort of mystical thing to happen. Way to be a let down.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was very independent, and learned quickly. She was able to do the right thing regardless of what others were telling her to do. She defended people who weren't popular and thought everyone was good. One day someone called her by a name she'd never heard before. They told her she was wierd even though she really wasn't. She suddenly realized that no one wanted to be her friend. That she wasn't being invited to parties. That when the other kids went outside to play they either left her out, or made her pretend to be the bad guy so they could beat up on her. She got very tired of this. Everyone told her she was wierd anyway, why not actually BE wierd. So she started doing things that were a little more odd and a little more odd. Pretty soon she really truely WAS wierd.
As the years passed people grew and started asking her why she was still so wierd, and hadn't grown out of it like everyone else. They still called her wierd. No one wanted her to change really. They love to put her down and insult her while she was trying to help and do good things. She moved away. Years passed and no one really saw her anymore. People heard about the things she was up to, but no one knew for sure. They never bothered to visit. She decided it might be a good idea to go home, and just see if things were as different as her Mother kept telling her they were.
Nothing had changed. She gave everything she had to the people who had been mean to her. She tried to show that she had grown and learned from the world. She showed all the new skills she'd discovered and the talents within herself. Suddenly the old insults came flying back. She was hurt. In an attempt to recover she went to a place she thought was safe. The people there had always been so accepting. They also possessed this 'wierdness' that she had had once. She was devistated and taken aback by the fact that these people would also call her the mean names she had heard long ago, and had created so much hurt. That word. . . That horrible word was spoken. with the "wierd" out of the bag she packed HER bags and left. It was clear no one understood. She left and went back to the world, which had embraced her 'wierdness' and made her feel accepted. They didn't seem to care out there. She determined she would probably not come home again. She had found a place where she belonged and there she would stay.