In mysterious ways

I’d be the first to tell you I’m not exactly a god fearing woman. I don’t go to church anymore or even really pray. I mean, outside of rush hour traffic I was pretty sure that god had better things to do than to deal with the likes of me. It’s not that I don’t feel that I have a right to pray or go to service. In fact, I’m luckier than a lot of people out there. I’m not rich financially but then again, that never really mattered to me. I’m rich with art, song, and knowledge (or cursed depending on the day). I’m blessed with the ability to be kind with words and even kinder with a dirty joke. And when I mean kind on that last one, I typically mean “WAAAAAAAYYYY  to generous.”  Wait a minute, that’s what SHE said. Hiyo!

Sorry I’m getting off topic. My relationship with god has been to the very least parental. My feeling are more like than eternal child glowering at the presence that was there but never truly active. In retrospective my concept of the functional nuclear family stems from burnable books born from the Stepford era. I felt isolated but complete in my aura of incompleteness.

I was nearly twenty minutes early including my needed cigarette, coffee and a moody soundtrack pulsing through my veins. It was just a piece of paper and a some copies, why did I feel like I was in mourning? I butt out my cigarette, adjusted my rear view mirror to practice what fake smile I would use today and headed to the entrance.

I brush of warm air welcomed me as I walked to the counter with the Stepford smile on my face. That’s when I noticed her at the receptionist counters to check people in. A warm greeting floated from her mouth. She didn’t recognize me but then again of course she didn’t. It had been many years. And though blind, she had insight that could see sharper than any lenses.

“You don’t recognize my voice, do you?” She tilted her head and reflected. “It’s okay,” I smiled it’s been a long time.”

“My goodness! I remember! How are you?” We engrossed in a conversation covering the last 4 years. I had missed her humor and her warmth. Somehow I felt separated in some cold shell in most situations.  For her, she could see no Stepford smile or the body language I used to disguise how I feel. She reach over the counter and touched my arm. She told me that she was sorry for what I had been through and it rang true without question. She told me that I had made an impact of kindness and that it changed her life for the better.

For the first time in a long time I cried, uncontrollably in public. She came from behind the counter and held me with a warmly honest hug. Tears ran down her sweater but they weren’t  for sadness or for pity but with gratitude. I made a difference to someone and in my life that’s all I have ever wanted. At the end of the day to take a piece of sadness that I know away from someone so they can know that they are loved.  Our conversation had turned to business as others filtered through the door. I don’t think I’d ever be so grateful for my glasses tucked in my purse. As I left, I turned to talk about a mutual friend and she smirked. “Yeah, she got kinda weird. I left god.” In any other situation I would have had a theological debate but I turned to her and said, “No, she didn’t forget God. She just forgot the message.”

As I sat in my car, I thought to myself, Maybe that’s the point of life. The message; whether there for us, to us or from us it’s easy to forget the message of life. Maybe it’s time I got back to mine.

Eden Ex Machina

                I had the strangest feeling today. It was something combined with hope and fear that over fill my sense of being. I’d like to say that it was a fear of success but I’m not sure that statement would be accurate. I sometimes look in the mirror and I wonder what could have been but that’s never how I’ve lived my life or at the very least been something better. But in the other hand, what’s stopping me? I’m always torn between this area of right and wrong. When you need sit down and count your loses but for me it never seems like a valid choice. I keep going and I keep running up that hill. I’ve been searching for a reason.

                But like all things in this world it’s a matter of choice but the choice can’t always be mine.

                It was a cold night sometime in November as I played with my pencil on yet another boring class. I had been in class for a three hour stretch and still exhausted from working late the night before but this class was worth it. The Doc had always tried to push me harder than most and I respected that. It’s one of those reasons I kept taking his class. He didn’t buy the dumb blonde act I had tried so hard to sell to others and it was a relief. The class was about horror (or at least the concept of) in horror films. This wasn’t just a class to finish my degree but to me, it was another way to understand the human condition.

                The sun would be setting soon and the crisp fall air would soon turn frigid. I was enjoying as much as I could. The lessons for the day had been covered a number of times throughout my education but I knew there might be a fresh point of view. Many people call it the “deus ex machina” a lazy intervention for a writer because the meaning always stays the same. It’s a plot device where an impossible serious of events is inexplicably

ended and tied up in a neat little bow by someone or something stepping in to end the situation.

                He assigned the reading based on the misconceptions of women of woman and the symbolism behind it. The notion of the “Other” was something that hung heavily in the air of every society. We, as humans know it in our nature to fear that which we view as unnatural because we are as attracted to as we are repulsed by it. But as much as we loathe and seduce the idea of the ‘Other,” we need the concept that we need the “deus ex machina” to save us from the other.

                I had the problem of being that tool in real life. I’m an intense person and with that intensity comes a certain amount of cool clarity in emergency situations. It frightens people at times at how clear, calm and functioning I can be in the eye of the storm but it’s who I am. My inner creedo has always been you can cry about it later, do what you have to do now. To me, there is no other choice. Tapping my pencil against the thick paper, I thought about “deus ex machine” and how often it had been used in literature and in my own life.

                I let it slip through my mind that this is the person I needed to be in order to accept my reality but this has created an element of becoming the “Other” that people fear so much. If there had been someone like me in the past who had been more like me, maybe my life would have been a little easier and the pain not as bad. We all have our own motivations for being the people we are today and up until now; I’d always figured I did it because it was who I am.  But now I understand that the projection I give my self is something I think I can save someone from the heart break and nightmares I suffer from now.

                It comes to an understanding between myself and the lives I lead that it is not the moments or nightmares I live, but the duality of self that is the place that I claim as my own. At the end of the day, it up to me to be able to look myself in the eyes and be okay with the lives I lead. I am many roles because that is what I need to be. Whether it is cool and calm or hot and angry, I am Eden ex machine, the other.

                

Break the habit

I’ve always believed that wishes, desires, and the rights to live a free and honest life are rights for all human beings. Although, lately I’ve been question if I’ve gotten that part of my belief system is incorrect. I met with my sister yesterday after coming into work early. 

She works over nights and it was the perfect time to chat it up. Exchanging the crucial chick information we put the more important things table. It’s always a weight that is around my neck. Who do you love? How far will you go? What is the most important thing to you?

In many accounts she had to remind me on making sure I had all the facts. But in this case she emphasized to me, “Make sure you have ALL the facts. I repeat, make sure you have all the information.” She’s not the type to repeat and I have a tendency to be quick to anger. I am the F5 that destroys without thought.

It’s a habit that is in need of being broken.

gratitude list:

1. stupid people:

Without them I would have no fun

2. Cheap nail polish:

Nothing says a great quick pamper me quick like cheap shiny polish

3.Baking soda

 -great exfoliate

-teeth cleaner

-over all cleaner

4. tenacity 

5. Concord wine

The last piece

The color of July:

                I’m beginning to think that the month of July hates me. I could be having the time of my life and BOOM here comes July to crap all over everything. I’m trying to take everything in stride but maybe I’m not that great of a person. I’m just tired but at least the gratitude list has me taking everything a little bit better.

               

              Despite my sporadic posting (at best) I’ve been focusing on the things to be grateful for. Life is full of challenges and the protagonist doesn’t always win.  As much as I hate to say that something is what it is, life simple is what it is. Which is pretty much everything. No matter what you just have to keep walking I like to call it our Hungarian credo. Maybe it won’t be the most graceful of walks or fierce but my head will be held up high and there are better things that deserve my attention.

                My heart may be broken… again… literally. Hopefully, my trip to the doctor today will give me better information.  It’s been worse the last week but I’ll get through it. But all and all I’m grateful for the life I’ve led thus far. I hope to continue it LOL! But should ever the worst should happen, I know that the life I’ve led is my own and it’s rocked.

Things I know/ gratitude list:

               True love exists, just not for me. I will always give it freely but to be loved by one, truly loved would be something people would have to earn. Call me a skeptic but a good chunk of people think they are entitled to it.

1.       But I have the love of:

a.       Friends

b.      Family

c.       Strangers who I’ve affected and didn’t know it. I made impact that changed their lives and if I can’t find beauty in that, where can you?

2.       Luck is where you find it; I just always seem to leave it under the couch or stuck in between cushions

3.       Shit happens but good can come of it.

4.       I can make my dreams happen

5.       I can make changes in my life and no one has the power to break my will unless I allow it. Even if Mr. Big thinks I’m dumb, doesn’t love me or can’t spare a second to say hello- it’s my choice to allow it to break my spirit. Although it may break my heart and tear it to shreds, I have the one piece. There is the one piece that no one can ever take from me. The one piece that remembers the love I have for the world around me, the pieces that know that a fire burns with in and that I don’t need justification from anyone.  It is that one piece of myself that still lives, still burns, holds me up when I can no longer keep going.  It holds my hands and tells me it’s okay to feel, to be human.

It’s up to me to keep that piece to myself and it is in my right to take it back should I ever lend it out. These are the things that I am grateful for.

To the quick

I’ve been conflicted on what to write on my blog. It hasn’t been the greatest of stretches but an enlightening on. I found myself reflecting on ghosts of the past for to them answers of why everything is going in the way it is. I suffered a loss last year and it chooses the last month to rear its ugly head. I’ve been sad and angry lately but at least I understand it. I don’t like writing blogs like this but it’s been ping pong ball in head.

 You ever have some of those people who words can cut you to the bone quicker than anyone else in your life? There are a handful of people but it’s only someone who I truly trust and love that can do that. And that’s Mr. Big for you. His words hold an incredible amount of weight and as I’ve currently learned can get me to cry with a single sentence. I didn’t have a chance to control it. How’s that for womanly strength.  So much in my attempt to be unspookable if it only takes one person to crack me.

 I try to think over the last several months how reciprocity has worked in my favor and it hasn’t. I wondered to myself if I was following the patterns of womanhood. Reay Tannahill (Sex in history) may have been right. What if all I am viewed to society is nothing more than fuck dumpster and any intelligence I may have thought I had is nothing but an afterthought.

And that thought is pain.

I really hate crying. For the most part, I’ll excuse myself to go outside and do it in private. OR go for a drive. My mother taught me a handful of things and one was never let them see you cry.  There’s nothing worse than loving someone and feeling that sinking sensation that not only do they not only neglect to return your love but want nothing to do with you. Call it the ultimate lesson in humility. I’d never felt so stupid, so hurt then that moment.  I choked back tears and retreated into my silence deep inside my mind palace because at that moment I realized that I was nothing. It doesn’t matter how much I try to accomplish, I’ll be a dead star floating around in the glory of what could have been. Feeling unwanted by someone or hated brings me back to the good old pit of self-loathing. I have lessons in humility every day. But it’s also up to me to figure out
where the hatred is coming from on their end.

We have come so far in society as far as acceptance and yet our lives are still haunted by Victorian and ancient stereotypes. I find it amusing to think that someone might look beyond society’s graffiti on the mystic of humanity but maybe society has a ways to go. Elitism will always exist and that is someone I can no longer be.

I’ve been lucky to have Mon Amiee to hand me a tissue while I cry my heart out. At least I have the chance to discuss the multitude of my levels of love and how someone can be allowed roll me deep. There is a rare for me to cry let alone cry in front of someone else but it’s a blessing that I can never take for granted.  I’ve come to the choice that if I’m unwanted and if I stay to my own devices, it’s not the end of the world. I don’t need justification of my existence. Even if people don’t agree with my life styles or my independence, I have the assurance that I have myself and it’s a big world out there and if that person’s life is better without me, I have to realize that I am unwanted there. I have to take time to understand that their version of “logistics” is not the same as mine.

The over confidence I exude isn’t necessarily the truth. Or if I ask questions about someone’s safety, I may come off as bossy, I get that. It’s not like I mean to, I just worry about people and need to know if they are okay. I can’t save everyone and no one wants to hear about it. The fact of the matter is I work in a place that watches the entire state and if I see a tornado or flooding in someone’s direction. I’m going to warn them but like many cases, no one wants to hear about. Yes, I drive the point home but I can’t help it.

I’d always thought that I was doing the right thing by checking in on people and often been accused of being too detached to the people around me. So how do I find the middle ground in my life? How do I make the world a better place without saying a word? Someone once said that all evil needs is the indifference of good men. So would my silence be indifference?

Gratitude list:

1.       Work

a.       It’s keeping me sane.

2.       Pinterest

a.       Everyone needs a hobby

3.       A coworker quitting

a.       The peace and quiet is nice. I’d work triple just to be without the negativity and the whore comments and the boob (I was born that way, okay?) rumors.

4.       Music

a.       Violent femmes

b.      Neko

c.       Lindsey streling

d.      Rent soundtrack

e.      Zombies

f.        Fugees

g.       Sia

5.       Mon Aimee

a.       Having someone give you a hug during a bad day can make all the difference.

Part one: I'll tell you what I want. What I really really want... in a lover

You’re gonna love this. I like to make these lists and as such I’ve begun to gain a reputation among my gals as an … picky person with strict codes This is part one:

               

                Enjoy!

Myth one: “If there’s no Ph.D. forget getting through these knees”

                No joke. I like my lovers smart. Okay, maybe a little maybe a little more than smart. But I prefer the term exceptional in something. I like there to be something either than face value. I want to be intellectually challenged. I want more than just staring at someone five years later over dinner or breakfast and thinking: “Oh fuck, I’m bored.” That moment is pure horror.

So this is what I look for in a potential mate:

1.       A kind heart:

a.       Not just make believe hearts in flowers who will turn on you.

b.      Someone who thinks of the little things.

                                                                           i.      Purchases: I don’t need millions and millions of things. I prefer the following:

1.       A kind card, note, a little cartoon figure that will make me giggle.

2.       Make me laugh. Silly jokes don’t take yourself to seriously

3.       A kiss on the hand, my cheek

4.       A smile.

5.       A movie night with experimental cooking following it up with hard core movies that are so bad they would make 80’s hair cry with pain!

6.       I want someone who likes me without makeup that I can wear a dress around

7.       Someone who will not only grow but grow with you

8.       Vincent Price. I’m a fan!

9.       Surprises.

10.   If you ever give me jewelry, Give me something thoughtful like a secret between us. Something that no matter how far away you are I can always feel a little bit closer.

11.   I can buy my own drinks but a lover who knows what I like and pick out a wine that’s exactly what we’d love. We could share it over absurd conversations on a sky scraper or a middle of a field.

12.   Experience life with me and love me for it.

13.   If you are ever lucky enough to see me cry. I don’t need coddling. Don’t pump me up. Just talk to me like a normal person and maybe hold me

14.   Adventures are always fun

15.   Dancing

16.   When I give you a gift, I just want to make you feel special and that I’ve spend hours looking for something that would be just right.

2.       The ability to experience:

a.       Make plans for dreams

b.      Enjoy the feel of a beach and the joy of some dare devil activities

c.       Fun sex stuff. Hey! Give me a break here! We all have needs.

d.      Watch the sunset together

e.      Blow bubbles and fly kites

f.        Going places We’ve never been

g.       Tell me about your dreams and things of the past.

h.      Appreciate my chest and don’t get embarrassed. I’ve been seriously thinking about getting a reduction just to stop getting the looks.

Myth number two: “The back ground check”

                There is a very good reason this is in place. I won’t recite the many exes that warrant that rule.

3.       If you are a good person and I see good in you. I won’t check you but if you keep bringing it up, my third gut will go off and say, he’s hiding something.  If I get the inkling I can’t trust you you’re already done.

4.       Be you. Don’t put on a face or lie, I’ll clock it and out the door you will be.

5.       Don’t get weird about money. A lot of relationships end of money and I have had my fair share. I don’t care how much you make or are worth only that you treat me as an equal and you check that shit at the door. It doesn’t impress me, it shows posturing and after the 37^th time it’s old. Unless you’ve got a huge raise and good things are coming around for you. Then let me be the first to say “Congrats and let me make you dinner!”

6.       Be a good person.

What I find sexy:

1.       A smile

2.       A laugh

3.       Charm

4.       An accent (SHUT UP! I’m still a girl)

5.       Someone who can dance

6.       Funny

7.       Smart

8.       Clever

9.       Well read

10.   Enjoys different food

11.   Gives lingering touches and kisses.

12.   A little bit of romance but not chokingly gross.

13.   Good taste in music

14.   A close whisper

15.   Intelligence

16.   Intelligence

17.   Intelligence

18.   A thoughtful message or call or text even if it’s a joke.

a.       You don’t make time for me. I clearly don’t mean anything you.

19.   Wonderful back rubs

20.   Good taste in wine

21.   Candles, hot, oil and great taste in everything

22.   A love of:

a.        books

b.      Art

c.       Music

d.      Culture

e.      Games

f.        Sports

                                                                                                                                                   i.      Badminton

                                                                                                                                                 ii.      Golf

                                                                                                                                                iii.      Frisbee

                                                                                                                                               iv.      Bowling

                                                                                                                                                 v.      Drag racing

                                                                                                                                               vi.      Motorcycles

                                                                                                                                              vii.      Basketball

                                                                                                                                            viii.      Soccer

                                                                                                                                               ix.      Darts

                                                                                                                                                 x.      Fire breathing

                                                                                                                                               xi.      Belly dancing

                                                                                                                                              xii.      Knife throwing

                                                                                                                                            xiii.      Fan throwing

                                                                                                                                            xiv.      Belly dancing

                                                                                                                                             xv.      Yoga

                                                                                                                                            xvi.      Marksmen ship

                                                                                                                                          xvii.      Archery

1.       You know, let’s just toss it up to a lot.

23.   Big hugs

24.   Tender touches

25.   Rougher touches

26.   A burning gaze

27.   Hidden touches

a.       Oh wait that’s the last novel I read. My bad!!!!

Part two to come…..

Gratitude list and things you should not say people who are upsett

                 

I’d been thinking about this blog for a few days and there were more and more things piling up on my plate. As of late, I have been plagued with a sense of melancholy. For many years I never really mourn or cry bad events. I just stopped feeling altogether. There was a stirring at the pit of my stomach but I just shoved it down to further. For the most part I tend to get a more pissed off and focus my energy on other people around me. If someone passes I put my energy, thoughts and prayers into them after all if I couldn’t really feel anything why couldn’t I help others heal?

                I suppose that’s where the trouble begins. Like death or a painful fart sooner or later it will rear its ugly head and causes some painful repercussions. It might be weeks or months and sometimes years later before I catch up to the emotional after math. If for some reason it hits me days later I’ll get these speeches from the people that should be there for me spout out words that really only make things worse. So, in addition to my “top five things to be grateful for” I am adding the things you should NOT say to someone who is upset.

I repeat DO NOT say these things to people who are upset. If you do, you’re a complete fucking douche:

1.        “why are you upset? You never get upset.”

2.       “Shouldn’t you just be over it by now?”

3.       “It’s not that bad, you should hear what I have going on…”

4.       “You need to suck it up.”

5.       “You don’t have a right to be upset.”

6.       “There’s no way you should be lonely! You have a ton of friends!”

7.       “You don’t need ____ he only hurts your feelings and is miles away. Besides you can always get a new one.”

8.       “It could always be worse, you could have _____”

9.       “You’ve done worse”

10.   “You guys weren’t even that close.”

Don’t be a dick be a dude! And most importantly, be aware of the douche bull shit that comes out of your mouth because some of us keep track to make sure that you get the same treatment as you have given others. Now, on with my gratitude list.

Now here are things I am grateful for:

1.       Fresh lemons.

a.       These things can make any situation better! I drink water and green tea with it and my day is set. Not to mention it’s one of the best facial cleaner I have ever used. I rub it on my face and it feels better than if I just spent a day at the spa.

2.       Sharknado 2is coming out soon.

a.       Fuck yeah I’m going to watch it. It’s the worst movie ever made!

3.       My key board.

a.       I really missed writing music and now I get to enjoy something I once enjoyed so much.

4.       Fans.

a.       I now I have so many, I might just hang them on the wall. Exercised and skill all rolled up in to one.

5.       Thursday Dinner night:

a.       I love this because not only do I get to spend a night with some wonderful people they also fall victim to my drink experiments! On tonight’s menu: Watermelon styled margaritas!

                

Song one

Drinking a glass of lemonade as I watched the sun set. I connect with nature and found my brain silence. I embraced the power of sunlight and the smell of the beach. I felt as if the anger had been slurped out of me. I took a deep breath and inhaled the sheer awesomeness of the day.

While swimming, I glanced at tiny white specs of white dance through the air landing on the surface of the water. It inspired me to write this. I took my first lesson on my piano today and I couldn't help it! enjoy!

Rose tinted introspection

I stepped outside for a cigarette and heaven knows I’d made it a point not to do… at all but I was making an exception. One thing was for sure, I didn’t like to smoke around children or any bad habits for that matter.  Mon Amie was a tucked in her apartment as I used my moment to brood. Mon Aimee talked about the things that bothered us in both life and love.

                I looked to my right and noticed climbing roses growing wayward from a neglected iron work tresses. I thought of my mother at that moment. She had the golden green fingers of the gods. I, on the other hand could barely grow anything at all but there were a few things and as fate humorously would have it was the one thing my mother couldn’t grow. I could grow roses. It was something very simple, but I understood them. Wild roses and climbing roses were always my strong points.

                The trick in working with roses is in knowing how not to get pricked. Although, it always will happen, the trick is know the vine as well as the blossom and be aware of the danger. The newest thrones were always the sharpest and the least forgiving. The older thrones were tougher and not as easy to manipulate. I wonder what this said about my love life. Better yet, my life in general. I saw myself as this bush. Unattended, wild, beautiful and most importantly performed all these tasks with grace under fire.

                “You got any tape or wire?” I yelled after Mon Aimee.

                “I dunno,” she remarked. “Probably.”

                I tilted my head, resting the cigarette in my mouth with a frugal pout.

 The rose branches grew at an uneven angle and weren’t properly taken care of. At first I just stared it, trying to ignore the connection I felt to it. Too many people who tried to gain my love used roses to try to manipulate with something I used to love so much. Even when I told those suitors, no roses, they would just change to the color from red to pink or yellow. Any good memory I had with the plant was quickly demolished in the wake of lost lovers. Mr. Big never did that though. I wondered if the knowledge of buying a chuck of plant sex organs that were destined die was the thought on that one or if it had even crossed his mind at all.

Sex organs, I thought with a smirk. How messed up is that? Yet, it was something very thoughtful but at the same time were the people who gave them to me only thinking of sex when they were delivered or was it out of love. I’d be lucky if I ever looked at plants again. Pulling the cigarette out of my mouth I carefully set it on a nearby concrete ledge. The rose bush deserved better than this.

                I gently twisted the branches into place being careful not to snap any of the pieces. As far as I was concerned, these rose bushes didn’t need me to force them to become something thing I imagined because Nature would always find a way, I was just there to help it grow. My mother was always attentive to every plant she ever owned. She would remove the dead and useless parts with an acute precision were as I would leave just enough of the dead for the roses to remember which way to grow, to have a strong base and to embrace its roots while growing freely but all of these are debatable given my current tampering.

                There were major branched twisted and unruly that curved over the top. I picked up my near dead cigarette and took a final drag while I looked at my handy work. The vines were perfect except for the ones up above. I snuffed out the cigarette and headed back inside. I could fix this. I needed scissors.

                With those, I could cut the branches and squeeze the hole shut.

                “Hey, do you have a pair of scissors?” I walked and inside the house and asked.

                “No.” I could use a knife, I thought to myself. I could use cut the branches and leave the wound gaping open and the roses would still be alive.

“Yeah, some where.” My gaze flittered around the kitchen. No, I thought to myself. There was beauty in its flaws. Almost an aura of gyspy flavor made it breathtaking. Like it needed anymore help to be what nature intended. It was perfect in every way, even without my help. Nature had already found its way, I was just lucky enough to assist it. 

Poem 1: the piece

I look for the moments of silence between each note

With each note, a piece of me lives fiercely

But within the silence a I die a thousand times,

But the pieces of myself, that is my own.

My very own.

Is untouchable.

Just like the silence with in us all.

Wild Roses

I work another overnight shift. The one promised that I wouldn’t work again because it kills my social life. The route I run is through an old remodeled graveyard. It has beautiful and silent at 6 in the morning.  I felt my legs burn and something’s look good and perfect to my world again. It was like a hidden type of freedom.   

            So what if I couldn’t get to have much of a life but it gave me the chance to dive into new hobbies that kept me out of memory lane. But I was stopped dead in my tracks by the worm hole of memory lane. My delicate, solider boy.  The cement bridge that was home to various forms weeds and over grown grass was an odd thing on its own. But it wasn’t that that’d caught my attention but an out crop of wild roses I’[d never seen before.

            This area held so many memories for me and to make matters worse, I just simply felt bad for him. I never wanted to hurt him or anyone else. I think that’s why I took the cruel things he said to me with a grain of salt.  But it always stung a little, especially when the name calling begins. As I looked at this abandoned place, I had wished it had over grown.

            But no, everything still looked the same. Except for one tiny detail-  Wild pink roses grew in the same sport that I had sat only a year ago where I sat listening to him and this thoughts about life and I knew that it would have ended so soon.

            They say that the wild rose is the toughest of all roses. They say that they will take over but to me it’s a sign that even though I have shed many tears and wrestled with my demons, the true nature of the world will always a way. I reflected pver the last year remembering all the tears and a sense of guilt for being able to him through. I remembered sitting where those roses now resided, I felt as those roases had grown from the many tears I cried there.

            They were a gentle pink and open to find the sun. They had grown despite all the rain nad erosion that became their assassins. It’s then that the thought came across my mind. Wild roses need no license to be what they are, they will not bow and they serve as a reminder to me. I am not a bad person because bad things happen all the time and none of this is my fault.

            As I write this, I hear a storm rumbling with impending anger. But I’m not afraid because whatever the storm, I will survive  the like the wild roses and if heaven allows it I, woo will thrive.   

Gratitude list: path to enlightment

Enlightenment:

I can see the details in the detail of the details of the sky. Every inch of cloud, every gust of wind, and every smell I make myself aware.  I need that awareness to make sure I don’t shut down. When I posted my first gratitude list I was blown away by the response. Bold and unfiltered the hate flowed in. I was told I was sad, depressing and my blog was tragic. I should stop writing, they said. Mostly because they claimed no one wanted to hear it.

                I brooded for a lot of time in case you couldn’t tell from the length of time from this blog from my last. You’d like to think that the people closest to you would be your cheer leaders and support system but they’re not. People stay the same to the core and maybe they don’t want to evolve with you or face the big ugly. They become infatuated with their happy hatred of wanderlust with no desire to spread their wings and grow. I look at them with some sort of displaced circumspect and disassociation. I want to understand and not be angry. I simply want to be good and live. Truly live instead sitting behind a desk watching the world grow around me like I’ve already thrown in the towel.

                Once the blog went up and all the hatred came down, I didn’t understand why people weren’t the good in rising from the bad. Some people can’t see you work through the pain that they can’t seem to ascend from. I don’t want a world dancing with faded ghost of where I went wrong. I don’t want a glamorous world of tomorrow. I want a world my own by my own rules and maybe this is too much to ask for but maybe it’s just enough to keep me going. Keep me fighting for the world I want. So in that case, allow me to write up my gratitude list:

1.       Amy-ism : “We are complete”

a.       In this case it’s in regards to the romantic relationship we desire to have with the people. Somehow, I thought I had missed the punch line and there was this cosmic joke going on.  I didn’t understand the reactions around me when it came to romance. I figured maybe the problem was with me.  My puma pal summed it up for me quite simply: “We are complete people” she went further on to tell me about give and takes in relationships. She was right. I didn’t need someone in order to make me work. I love incidentally and not because there is hole in my life or of neediness. I don’t need someone to define and refine. I am, who I am. Like a microwave dinner, nothing need but time on a clock.

2.       Alias Perv Mcgee,:

a.       Need I say more? Sometimes you need an old friend to set your ass straight while both going through the same thing.

3.       The puma pack:

a.       I love themed girl time. This major outing:
PJ party including karaoke and missing spice girls “wanna be.” Totally worth it and always better with apple pie shots. As we mused over the smoldering ashes of cigarettes. Kells remarked to me that age groups of single women vary in names. All of us are too young and too ‘complete’ but be the glorious cougar. However between the ages of thirty to forty are considered “pumas.” Not being yet thirty, Amy and I were called pumas-in-training or as I like to think of it prepubescent pumas. Either way, as of Saturday night we dubbed ourselves the puma pack because it beats brooding alone in misery when you can brood together over bad music.

4.       Trent Reznor: “I’m still pissed off”

a.       I feel myself filled with anger from the impact of the day and I think, “wow, I’m really pissed off.” I calm myself down telling myself is ok, don’t worry about it and yet the feelings are still there. I thought I should have grown out this by now but alas I have not. It’s then that I remember that NIN Trent Reznor (could be urban legend but still funny) came out of retirement because he was “still pissed off.” Just goes to show you that at any age, you can remain perfectly pissed because it’s logical.

5.       Fan throwing and dancing:

a.       This has been my savor. I’ve been working overnight one half of the week and nights the last half with no weekend days to do something fun. So, Amy convinced me that we should do a fun type of show. Something artistic and new. Maybe adventurous. Growing up I loved mortal combat. One thing that I thought was super awesome was when the character who threw fans as a method fighting. I thought, “How many people do that outside of burlesque?” Not a whole heck of a lot. That caused me to not only a buy many folding fans but break them with gusto. Using my shadow on the wall, I’m training myself to do tricks and infuse it with various forms of dance. Now if I could do it while the fans were on fire… that’d be something.

For my puma pack gals: