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.