figuratively the flashes of clarity mesh with insanity and make perfect sense

simple gestures mean so much, insisting with their silent touches that there is balance in passion
balance that pushes the lines to blur between left and right, black and white

intense is the fire that tells you what means the most, intense is the fire that finally clears your path
tender is the raw engulfing what is left, tinder is that what leaves

corporate kisses become boxed in their own vanity, lessening the dread when closed doors beckon
that last memo to rebind structure is the cliched straw and it is your back

long forgotten the desire to push buttons and stand up for yourself, disappeared with youth of late
no just because more, do not offend more, behave more

now to reclaim that which screamed unique, to proclaim that for making smiles and thoughts
standard policy is to go, future policy is yet to be written

dancing the night away

While I'm still coherent enough to rave about the music, I will write. Well, and bitch a little too.

After work tonight, went to see Doug Moreland play. Happens he's changed his tunes a bit, gone a little more Swing with the Western. Very good, his show, as always, packed the dance floor and had everyone singing along. Also happens he's got Matt Skinner playing with the show, and he's a good musician in his own right, one who my best friend A went to school with.

Continuing the small world who knows whos - ran into an old ex-boyfriend (shudder...) and his friends, who happen to be a few people my mom works with. Jeez, if they tell her I had a cigarette tonight, I'll be shot.

Sigh, if I didn't know how bad they were for me, (the cigarettes and the ex-boyfriends from way past) I'd enjoy them so much more. The slow inhalation, the burning in the lungs, ahh...

Back to the X factor - We'd dated, umm... shit, five? six years ago? Something like that. He was in the past drunk category tonight, whispering yelling nothings (they weren't sweet by anyone's standards) at me. "What happened to your purple hair? I really like you with purple hair" Like I said, five or six years ago, when yes, my hair was purple. "I'm glad I ran into you tonight. In all the places too see you, I see you here!" We happen to know the same people and musicians, go figure "Are you married?" Umm, no. "Can I call you tomorrow?" - Groping my arm, because I keep my hands in my pockets. Trying to nuzzle my neck, I keep side stepping. Putting his arm on my waist, I move out of range. "Will you go home with me?" Can you remember my name in the first place? Oh, wait, can you remember that you quit calling ME so many years ago? Just because you're drunk does not mean I'm driving you home tonight. And especially not driving you to MY home! Also - ick! "Here, another beer!" He friggin' bought me 6 beers in the course of two hours. I am a light weight! I think I actually drank maybe a third of each beer. Yet another reason why dating men I meet in a bar is a bad thing, and considering we'd met when I was bartending, I should have known better the first time.

Other than the drunk, touchy-feely ex, I had fun. The music was good, the dancing fun - had no less than five guys get me on the dance floor, spinning, swinging, dancing, and making me laugh. So much fun. (More) Beers (than I normally drink), a cigarette, a few dances, and a few chats with some really nice people... pretty darn good night.

And... I really, really, wanted to call L while I was driving home. To tell him all about the band (not that he'd care about the music all that much), the slithery ex (to thank him for not being slithery & shudder-worthy), and to tell him I really, really, miss him. Sigh. I put my phone back in my purse four times on the way home. It was 2am! He probably was asleep! Hearing from me, the girl who made him hurt, at 3 am (time zone difference), was probably not the best idea in the world.

Ugh, and now, since I smell like smoke - partly my own fault, I know - I'm off to shower and to bed.

beat still

gentle rain released
from windows of souls
washing across skin
washing across cheeks
belying open desire
for future love hope

withdraw physically
withdraw emotionally
remain to be seen

simple beautiful kiss
a whisper across
very same, very wet,
very tender cheeks

simple beautiful tears
potent in all they mean

pour forth with passion
settle into reserve
still, beat, still, breathe
silence shudders once

bitter taste to swallow
that pure gift you give
of love forever more

serene here by now
witness to a soft touch
washed clean, kissed dry
delivered bruised
but as whole, one love
never any less

I know I'm depressed when...

I don't want to get out of bed, but I can't sleep because my dreams are too disturbing.

None of my favorite lotions smell attractive or make me happy.

Masturbation has lost its fun.

Getting dressed is too much of an effort. I don't want to put clothes on because it's too hard to decide what to wear.

I don't want to take a shower. I don't even want to go swimming. (and I'm a water-baby)

I have a lovely stack of wood to trim and carve, and I don't feel like picking up the tools.

Food takes too much effort to chew so I don't want to eat.

My books have lain beside the bed unopened for more than three days.

I almost want to go to work, just to have something to do to keep my mind off other things. (I said almost.)

I don't even care that my hand is starting to go back to it's normal size.

I had an invite from the rock climber and I turned him down.

I have three half finished paintings, and I don't want to touch any of them, much less start a new one.

I'm thirsty, but even water tastes funny.

I just want to sit and be a bump on a lump.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Bella!

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Bella!

1. The canonical hours of the Christian church are matins, lauds, prime, terce, sext, none, bella and compline.
2. The opposite sides of bella always add up to seven.
3. Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are bella.
4. Koalas sleep for 22 hours a day, two hours more than bella!
5. Ninety-six percent of all candles sold are purchased by bella.
6. Bella kept at the window will keep vampires at bay.
7. If you blow out all the candles on bella with one breath, your wish will come true.
8. If you drop bella from the top of the Empire State Building, she will be falling fast enough to kill before reaching the ground.
9. Bella can pollinate up to six times more efficiently than the honeybee!
10. There are now more than 4000 satellites orbiting bella.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

Oh, hell, I'm just surfing and thought this was funny.

Best Low

Since I'm now used to the non-paying attention bumps and bruises that I acquire almost daily, the fact that my hand is swelling and throbbing from the sealer is just another in the long list of "Uh-oh"s and "Oh well"s. I wore gloves... just didn't pay attention when it got under the gloves... Like I said, oh well.

So my options today were to stay in bed and wallow... or get out for some therapy. Retail therapy. I opted for a little of both. Wallowed till I couldn't wallow anymore. Then got up and went out. Bought a new shirt and two new skirts and a new pair of shoes. Then I went to a specialty music store, looking for a new cd, found it, and have a meeting set up for next week to show them the stuff I carve... I could be selling my art locally! This excited me to the point I went and bought a new sander and more wood. Whoo-hoo!

Some days you just don't know what the possibilities are till you try.

standstill

Time seems to be extremely slow these past few days. Like before it felt as if I was rushing headlong into whatever was going on, and now... now it's like all the clocks have stopped. I swear I've done 45 thousand things, then look at the clock, and only 20 minutes have passed. Crazy.

Might be that I'm no longer spending my time thinking about a cross country move or working the logistics of such. But no, now I'm thinking about things like where our communication failed, and how badly I screwed it up.

He sent this, when I'd asked him to not keep up with me anymore. I seriously thought/think that a clean break is probably better, to let us both heal... now... I'm second guessing myself. Again. Anyway:

of course, Bella. Though I dont entirely understand.

I am going to miss the possilbility of you. I know that I never gave you my whole self. Under the circumstances of our relationship....I guess that I am not surprised. You've hurt me much more than you may ever realize(and...you are not bad if you feel slightly gratified by that statement).* There was much unfufilled and undeveloped emotions in our relationship....I guess that I was protecting myself (in case you never moved; in case you found someone else) I just felt the risk of being lonely for a really long time; waiting for you.

I am sorry for insulting you. I hate seeing you "want" for anything. Confrontational or not; I can see no reason why a person with your attributes should ever have to.

As menacing as it can be, I am going to miss waiting for you. I believe that we never got "our time". It is easier than believing that it was wasted.

I am still here. You will always be in my heart. Regardless of what condition it is in.

L

*I don't feel gratified. I feel horrible. I honestly didn't think he had felt like that. I honestly thought he was entirely blase about our whole relationship, and no matter what I did, it didn't affect him. Hindsight is always 20/20.

I want to call. I want to talk. But I can't. I feel weird about it. I feel so weird. I think I prefer the happy memories, the times we did connect well, and have been remembering/treating him that way. And he probably does the same for me. And I know that I am not the same personality I was when we met, and he isn't either. And I felt like he was a stranger. Which makes perfect sense if we were both withholding from the other.

I was expecting (which is the wrong thing to do anyway) him to treat me the way I wanted to be treated instead of the way he wanted to treat me. I still believe in the Golden Rule. I don't like to be talked down to, to be told what to do, and thus I try to not do these to others. But in a relationship, I guess as learning about each other, you learn to push each others buttons as well as what soothes. And while I can remember when we actually did connect and were happy and I get all weepy and lonely... I remember the other night when I was emotional and felt like he was demeaning me.

This is all just what I felt. Only now do I realize he has feelings too.

This is the end of another time-less day. One where I wanted to scream, wanted to dance, wanted to cry, wanted to call... and now have to go slather cortisone on my hand because I dripped sealer on it and it's already swelling, but that is another story.

Breaking Hearts Since 1977

"You're not the marrying type."
"What?" As in I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly as I was on the phone and measuring out lines to cut.
"You're just not the marrying type."
"Gee. Thanks. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Don't get defensive. He was right, you don't like change. And men want a woman who will be there for them, and support them, and make a home for them."
At this point I've dropped my pencil and the tape measure has snapped back inside itself, almost taking my finger with it. "You're kidding me. Men aren't that archaic. L isn't like that. This is a new generation. Plenty of women work, plenty of men stay home, relationships are all about equality nowdays."
"Not really. Look at the marriages that work, they work because the men can take care of the women, and the women provide a stable home life."
"You know I love you, but I don't agree. I think it's about..." I pause.
"What?"
"I guess I don't know anymore. I guess whatever I thought it was about it isn't. So maybe your way of thinking isn't wrong either."
"Honey, you're too independent. You don't want help."
"I kinda do. Sometimes."
"But most of the time you don't. You want to do your own thing."
"Yeah."
"And men don't like that."
"Yeah. I've noticed." Now I'm just doodling on the wood. My focus is elsewhere.
"It's ok. You are who you are. And somewhere out there, there is a man who will embrace you for all that you are, and who will love you like I do."
Sigh. "I want to believe that. Right now I can't believe that. I still love L, and that is going to take a friggin' long time to deal with. What do I do until then?" Flipping my pencil over my fingers, back and forth, like my baton when I took twirling.
"You keep breaking hearts the way you always do."
Pencil is dropped, again. Then I laugh. "I guess so."

lunch time musings about food

There's something about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that makes me crave a quart of milk. Course the calcium is good for me, but I think it's more the taste combonation. Or the feeling of comfort food cause that was the combonation I ate as a little kid. Now it's just practical. Hot pockets just seem too 'hot' to eat when the weather is warm like this. Same as soups and heavy meals of pasta and meat sauces. This weather calls for veggies, sandwiches, and lots of fruit. Oh. And beer.

But since I'm at work, the beer will have to wait. (And yes, lunch is 6:30ish pm for my shift)

Fin

No more. Why is it tears of grief come so much easier than joy or desire? Not tears of joy or desire but those emotions.

I was a fool. Am. Am a fool. Idiot. Stupid. how many other words are there for fool? I am all of them. The damnedest part is I did it to myself. The huge hole that I jigsawed into my chest to remove my heart with has now bled dry. Now it's just empty. I am an empty fool. A pain in the ass empty fool.

Resolve. Focus on something. Anything. Courage and guts are shot so find something to hold on to. Right now. So be it. Hadn't turned in my notice at work yet, so I still have a job. Yes, one that does nothing for my happiness except provide me with a steady paycheck so I don't end up further depressed. So. A job. And in a month I get vacation. And if I can make myself hold it together for two more years I'll get three whole weeks of vacation! And then I can use my 401k for a down payment on a... something. Not a house. That's too fucking much lonely. A workshop. A studio. A gallery? Hell, I have two years to decide that. Fuck. Maybe I'll blow it all on a trip to Paris.

No. Back to focus. Work. Ok. Done. Or can do. Whatever. School. Well, yes, there is that. Maybe in two years I'll actually finish this damn degree and be done with it. Then when people ask if I have a degree I can finally say yes. Not that I'll actually work in the field it's in - but does anyone these days? So. School. Check. Finish research for paper tomorrow.

Art. Well. That's a convoluted mess, and truthfully probably always will be. So. Best bet. Well, the best bet is to pull away. Detach from passion and creativity, and focus on school. But since that is next to impossible, as well as my only comfort now - I will keep carving. And hope they sell.

And the heart? Well. It's gone. It's been gone for a long time I guess. And I am currently in no mood to ever want to try that again. Thus the focusing on other parts of life.

Damn. Why did I try again? Shouldn't I have learned my lesson already? I was. I was a bitch. A half-assed girlfriend. A scared one. And while part of me says it's better it happened now instead of after I moved - the other part says I didn't even try because I was so afraid and so I made it happen. Maybe so. Maybe so. But please - let's not discuss my faults any further. Enough of that tonight for my whole fucking lifetime. We can pick that scab subject up another day.

I'm numb. What other way to describe it? Empty and numb and again - lost. The decision to move is out the window. Guess I can pull those books and clothes out of storage and put them back on my shelves and hangars. Guess I can delete the resume I posted and not worry about that. Guess I can use the packing materials to stuff into this hole in my chest. I mean my heart isn't going back in it any time soon.

ahhh

The weather tonight was beautiful enough to make me want to go topless on the drive home. And I don't drive a convertible.

Seriously. Tired of wearing a bra today. Nice cool breeze from the building storm. Just rolled down the windows, took off my shirt and bra, and drove home.

Nice.

left side of the road

Exactly half a block from the post office after leaving work, and I suddenly felt as if I was driving on the wrong side of the road. No, I wasn't in the wrong lane, it just felt like it. Kinda like I shoulda been in Europe somewhere driving on the left-hand side of the road.

So surreal yet perfectly normal, right?

My biggest thinking thought at that moment in time was "Drop these bills in the mailbox. Go home. Eat dinner." Seriously. So why did I feel like an episode of the 'Twilight Zone', and think I should be driving down the other side of the road? Not head on-collision type driving, mind you, but they should be on the other side as well. Made perfect sense for that flash of a moment thought. Really, it did.

Ok. Whatever it was, it passed. The 16 years of driving on the right side of the road kicked in and reminded me I'm not in Europe. Hmm... Do Europeans get feelings they should be driving on the other side of the road at times? Huh.

No. Maybe.

Why I feel I have to justify myself I don't know. Why I feel I have to justify my emotions or feelings I know. Because that is what I feel and who I am, and damnit, it hurts when someone else tells me to stop feeling that way. It hurts really bad when it's someone I care about. It makes me feel like I'm not worth their time and they just want to shut me up and go away. Or that they mistakenly believe that I'm someone else, someone with a thicker skin, someone who fits their ideal rather than who I really am.

Fuck. I make a decesion. I decide to do something. For whatever reason, that is what I decided, it is my choice. And I don't like being questioned about it, made to feel as if I made a wrong choice.

Just like the decisions you make are yours, do you like to be second-guessed?

No. I guess I'm not who you thought I was. I guess I'm not who I thought I was. I guess I'm not worth it after all.

a slightly touchy subject

Driving home from from work tonight and the rock climber called. Haven't heard from him in awhile, so we chatted. He was telling me he was climbing into bed, then kept asking if I was home yet. 'Course our conversation veered to the sexual by time I got home. And hell, I needed a little stress relief, so we started a nice long conversation about our naked bodies, and about how hard he was, and how wet I was... and I fingered my clit, and pressed my fingers inside myself, and had an orgasm. With phone sex. Ahh... very nice... just imagining having another person here... so much better than just a vibrator.

And yet... I feel just a little dirty using that same phone an hour later to have a short conversation with L before he fell asleep. Not dirty enough to tell him about it though. Much as I wanted to. To tell him. To have him get a little jealous. To have him feel something besides tiredness and express it. Sigh.

Just sex. Strictly a boy-toy, who likes to please me. And my body loves it. My heart on the other hand belongs to a man who tells me he wants me, who tells me he likes talking to me, who I share pretty much everything with (I may not have told him tonight, but I will... eventually), and who I am planning to move for. Oh, if he were the one just four hours away instead of 24, if he were the one telling me how much he wanted to feel my body and lick my pussy, then hell yeah, I'd be using him as my boy-toy. I'd be telling him how wet I was, how hot I was, how much I want to feel him. Burn up the cell phone instead of long yawns and short goodnights.

Part of me wonders if it'll change when I move. Will he be that tired and pre-occupied? Will I, depending on what type of job I find? Will we see each other, much less make time to sleep together? I don't know. I know it doesn't help that I divide my emotions like this and wonder if I'm enough for him, then sub-consciously sabotage those possibilities.

Yeah, not healthy. But right now I'm in a selfish mood, and I'm going to enjoy the attention from whatever direction it comes.

light as a feather

My inner child took over in the last half hour of work. Found one of those really small floaty feathers attached to my sweater and proceeded to sit back in my chair, and blow the feather up in the air over and over again. The overnight guy kept walking by and laughing at me. Oh, well. I was peaceful and enjoying myself. Feather meditation, so to speak.

dark to light

The difference in flying a desk for eight freakin' hours and getting outside and getting my blood moving is vast. Vast as in the crushing weight of depression vs. the normalcy and humor of daily life. Vast as in I want to cry vs. I want to paint. Vast as in I kinda want to throw myself off a cliff vs. when I go off that cliff I'll take a parachute and scream 'Geronimo!'. Vast as in slitting my wrists sounds like a good idea vs. all is right in the world and the birds are singing.

You get the idea.

Anyway. I let it get to me so badly that by time my shift (is supposed to) end, I just want to drive. Then I realize that gas costs too much to 'just drive', which depresses me further, so I go home and want to just be a lump in front of the tv and computer, and that's not any good either.

So tonight I had to force myself to tie on my tennis shoes and walk out the door. Literally force. I twisted my own arm and everything. And so I walked. I cried a little bit. Walked about a mile, jogged a little too. And I felt better. Still won't make any of my stresses, like hospital bills and a ticket that is four years old and I thought was taken care of but apparently isn't and might be a warrant, go away, but I felt better. So much better that just now while writing and watching "Gilmore Girls", I laughed - out loud, tummy jiggling laughing.

Yes. Much difference. Much better.

un-secure

I build walls in an attempt to feel safe. I do not share my life with just anyone, just those I feel I can trust (forget for a moment that I publish this in cyberspace so that just anyone can read it and comment on it). I spend my day with my shoulders up to my ears in an attempt to protect myself from other people and their opinions and attitudes.

I sat down to write this over two hours ago. Feeling unsecure about myself today, for reasons I'm still not quite sure about, and which sucks because I've been feeling pretty darn good lately.

A bad dream that I could not work my way out of woke me early and in a panic. I called L, wanting grounding in reality, to hear his voice, and it helped. But the afterthoughts of the smoky residue stuck with me all day. Plus grouchy customers, and paperwork complaints from this weekends files, none of which I could control or had anything to do with, thus I felt as if I was a turtle and kept trying to crawl into my shell.

Home after work, talked to L and to A. (Also Boat, but that is a long story about him finally(!) finding love and leaving me in the past, except for wanting to call and tell me all about it.) I feel better from being able to talk to friends I trust and from being able to just talk. I swear I feel like a therapist for too many other people, that when it comes to my problems, I don't know how to share or ask for help.

L is usually falling asleep by time we talk, and he wants the short and concise version of what's going on or what's wrong, and I can't seem to find a way to just get to the point like that. So A and I talked, and just being able to discuss our daily lives helps me realize what I felt and why, and then I'm ok about it. Must be the communication differences between men and women.

I have decided to move. I weighed pros and cons, and no matter which list I sided with, I argued both sides. But the only factor that I keep coming back to is that I love L, and I have to try, to see what happens. The fear comes from the not knowing how it's gonna work out, from not being sure of myself about finding work, and from being so far away from what I know. So I think I've been slowly building up the courage to overcome these fears and make the move.

Sure I still feel like I'm crazy or don't know what's going on, but it's better than feeling in a rut and stagnating. (Remind me of this when I decide it's better to stay on land instead of trying bungee jumping or something...)

baby talk

I freaked L out. I think. I didn't mean to. He had asked how my day had gone, and since I'd spent most of the day with a baby in my arms, so yeah, I told him I enjoyed it and I wanted a baby.

"Uh-oh." Was his exact response.

I didn't mean right now, for heaven's sake! I would really like to have a man in my life first, someone who wants me, someone who is willing to have a family, then have a baby.

Sigh. Yes, I enjoy children. Always have. I loved baby-sitting, and entertaining my small cousins and my best friend's kids. So, yeah, I do want one or two of my own to experience, to raise, to show me the wonder of life from their eyes.

But I do not want to do it alone. I see my best friend as a single mom and see how tough it can be, and I'd rather have a partner to share it with than to try all on my own. I also know that I'm just now getting to the point in my life where I can handle finances and job security, and I would like to get a little more used to that first.

I know. It can happen at any time. Thus condoms when I have sex are primary. At least till there is more comfort and less freak out over the subject.

yada, yada, whatever

For some reason I did not sleep well last night, I tossed and turned. Many possibilities, but to dissect those now won't do me any good, won't help me sleep tonight.

So thankfully, after a day trip, in the back of a suv trying not to throw up from being car-sick, seeing a really good show, and dinner with my brother, parents and grandparents, I'm tired.

Where am I going with any of this? I have no idea. I am letting the words, if not thoughts, flow out here for a bit, maybe in an attempt to empty my brain so I might actually sleep peacefully tonight. Well, if not peacefully, than at least less tossy-turny.

'Course I admit that I'd rather be sharing my bed with someone, to curl up together as well as a little bit 'o sex would be nice. Sigh. Not gonna happen tonight. Well, except the vibrator and body pillow... but it really is not the same.

Just rambling on now. Maybe I should say something about it being Easter, although it's as commercialized as Christmas is - buy! buy! buy!, not the welcoming of Spring and new life, or the resurrection of Christ if that's your cup of tea, so to me it is just another day. Well, another day, with chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps. hee, hee. And I've been celebrating Spring by savoring the sunshine and warm weather, pulling weeds and planting vines for ground cover, and trying to just get out and do more things.

Ok. I'm thinking I'm done now.

and then,

Finished filing papers from taxes.
Finished storing winter clothes.
Dragged boxes to the attic.
Took trash out.
Pulled weeds, lots of them.
Sweated all over my body and felt damn good - because when I sweat from just my armpits, it stinks, but when I sweat all over it doesn't!
Dinner with the parents. Got carded when I ordered a beer!
New lotions from Bath & Body works.
Pulled winter cover off the pool, swept the deck, skimmed, and put the solar cover on - will be swimming soon!
Scrubbed the bathroom sink and bathtub.
Trimmed my nails and cleaned old nail polish off my toes.
Shaved my legs and armpits and my pussy, because it is now 'short' shorts season, and it feels so much better trimmed when I'm not wearing underwear.
Painted toenails firey pink.
Ahh... good day.

a day like this...

A day like this deserves a good book stretched out under a tree. A book that makes you want to keep reading, turning page by page. A tree that provides strength to lean against, and shade to shield you while you read. The relaxation of sitting and absorbing the quiet.

A day like this deserves a long flowing white skirt. the kind of skirt you can go shopping in, go dancing in, wear to the beach or the bar. The kind of skirt that moves with your hips and blows in the breeze. The kind that is reminiscent of salsa dancing and fiestas with pretty ruffles and complimenting bare legs nicely.

A day like this deserves a flower tucked over one ear. A red rose, a purple lily, a yellow carnation, something gentle and sensuous that evokes softness to see and touch. The warmth of the day releases the flowers natural perfume, enveloping you all day. A flower to catch your eye, catch his eye, to notice that something is different today.

A day like this deserves a long lingering look of passion. Eyes that roam the bare skin on your body, imagination roaming what's hidden from sight. Teeth that bite lips in the anticipation of pressing against that hollow notch where your neck melds into your chest. Tongue that licks lips in anticipation of tasting your mouth on mine, in anticipation of stripping your clothes off, in anticipation of feeling your mouth working down my body. Heat between our bodies to rival that of the afternoon sun, sweat glistening along muscles making it harder to grasp each other, adding to the friction. That moment when all thought beyond the feel of your hands on my hips as you thrust into me, explodes as you do, explodes as I come.

Yeah, a day like this deserves that.

works for me

Just because I've kissed a lot of boys, doesn't mean I understand them, but I do know I like courtesy, humor, and hands that will hold mine.

Just because my eyes glaze over when you're talking about cc's on piston engines or wheel bases on cars, doesn't mean I don't know what I like in a truck or a motorcycle.

Just because my eyes glaze over when you're discussing megabytes vs. gigabytes, and internal vs. external storage drives on the computer, doesn't mean I don't know what programs I like and which computer works best for me.

Just because my eyes glaze over at the discussion of antonyms and adverbs, or proper grammar rules, doesn't mean I can't write and get my point across in a way that works.

Just because I wear a skirt doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about when discussing routers, sanders, or drill bits.

Just because I don't have an art history degree or take classes for design, doesn't mean I don't know complimentary colors, what tools are for pottery or wood, and that I consider myself an artist.

twilight

She stands there and shudders. She reminds me of that picture of a flower I saw once - crinkled, dry, curled in, faded. Faded. She is faded. She is my age but faded. She stands there faded and shudders.

Such a pretty girl.

Why do people always say that?

She may have been but something happened, and now...? Desire is gone and she weeps its loss no more.

Wow. I know that feeling. Or have known that feeling.

Can it be? Could she be the 'Sliding Doors' version of me? Possible.

Of course. Those life altering moments that we don't know are life altering until much later.

That moment I kissed someone I didn't love.

That moment I drove down the wrong street.

That moment I answered a wrong number.

That moment I said yes instead of no.

I want to judge her - but I can't. I cry for her because she is cried dry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Right as I'm ready to go to sleep. Right as I'm closing my eyes and hugging my pillow. Right after I've masturbated myself to orgasm... the thoughts, ideas, stories appear... and demand to be written, demand to be recorded - else be lost to the dreams to come and not be seen again.

why?

I really need to learn to say the words “Yes, sir/ma’am. No, sir/ma’am. I’m sorry, sir/ma’am.” with out the inner trigger to crawl under a rock and cry.

I know that the matter at hand really is insignificant. I know that the matter at hand is not my fault. I know that I’m trying to soothe the customer in the best possible way while covering for a co-workers thoughtlessness.

But I’m the one getting griped at. I’m the one who feels 2 inches tall. I’m the one standing here and taking it.

And I want to cry.

Over this? Why can’t I be like everyone else? Let it roll right off my back? Be able to throw it right back at the person, find a way to blame them?

Why do I take it to heart?

...that lovin' feeling...

There is a subtle cosmic shift in my attitude, a ping in my universe the moment I click my phone closed after we talked. There really is no one else in the world outside my family that I've met that makes me feel the way he does. Well, ok, A does, she is my best friend, and I love her absolutely. That's not this though.

This is the feeling of expanding my heart because I want to let him in. This is the feeling of absolute joy that spreads all over just when I hear him talk about those he cares about. This is the exact same feeling that hit me nearly two years ago when we'd first started talking, when he first told me about his best friend, and how much he wanted to help him. This is the exact same feeling that enveloped me so completely then, and enveloped me completely again tonight, reminding me what love feels like.

I feel awkward and secure at once, wary of trying to explain a feeling, excited to feel it at all. This is what love is. I know this sounds ridiculous, I too, am cynical enough to admit this. Yet...? Yet my desire pours forth and fills me with energy. If it were as easy to make a commitment as it is to feel, then I'd have been there millions of heartbeats ago.

Commitment? Did I say that? Yes, I suppose I did. Well, it's true. I already love him. I already desire him. I just don't know if a committed relationship is what is best for us. I mean I love A, we are best girlfriends, but as we're both hetero, there ain't no 'Brokeback' with us. Though can a friendship with a man I care about work as a relationship, just because we desire it to be so?

So. There is a man, yes L, who I enjoy talking to (often multiple times a day), who makes me laugh (and on occasion cry), who sometimes I want to scream at (rarely, but it happens), who I care about, who inspires me, who challenges me, who gets me to focus, who for some reason likes to slap my ass (which turns me off, fast) , who has read Douglas Adams and Paulo Coelho (books I love), who is my friend, who realizes it may be weird for me when he talks about an ex (for a second it was), who felt jealous when I experimented with someone else (good, I kinda wanted him to), who is passionate, who is creative, who is pretty liberal (which sometimes makes me wonder), who enjoys his work, who has a very loving heart for those he cares about (the conversation tonight included such caring), who cares about me as well... and I love him. Fully. Always have.

Sudden realizations are sometimes built up and I'm just not aware of their construction until *Bam!* - there it is.

The old advice is to follow your heart and it will never lead you astray. Sometimes it's still awkward, sometimes it's still painful, sometimes it's the quiet voice begging to be heard, sometimes it's the rush of doing something you enjoy, sometimes it's the excitement of realizing a passion. And sometimes it lives with a man 2000 miles away.

pause & remember

Digging through the closet. Gray skirt. Black skirt. Tan skirt. White blouse. Green shirt. Pink shirt. Brown jacket. Nothing I want to wear today. Flip further. Maybe something I haven't seen in awhile will look good today.

Oh. Pause. A dress. That dress. We talked about it just the other day.

Memories. Remembering Charleston. Remembering getting to know each other. Remembering wandering the city. Remembering the hippie shop we found this dress at. I pull it off the hangar and step into it, pulling the straps up over my shoulders.

I can't wear this to work. Well, I could - I just don't want to spoil it though. This is a dress with special memories. I can't taint it by wearing it to work - then it loses significance and becomes an everyday piece.

No. I can't do that. But I want to feel it again for just a moment. Feel that warm, humid, after storm air. The flip-flops with sand between my toes. The feel of your hand holding mine as we walk down the street.

I open my eyes hoping to be there but am instead alone and in my bedroom. I want to cry. Cry for the happiness it represents, cry for the sadness that I don't have that kind of happy now.

I peel off the dress, place it back on the hangar, brush my hand down the front one more time, and place it back on the rack. Then continue on with the mission of finding something suitable for work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slipped up last night. I had been drinking, and when you were talking about apartments, I butted in and said I'd move in with you. I'm sorry. I know we have a sort of agreement that unless I make a decision to move, we shouldn't talk about the future what if's like that.

But for that moment it seemed like a really nice thought, and I really wanted it to be. Can't help it. I still love you... I just don't know how to transition from nice fantasy to real life. I'd like some help with that if you can think of anything.

God, I miss you.

A man in a skirt...

There's an old joke/pick-up line that goes something like:
"You have any Scottish/Irish in you?"
"No."
"Well, would you like to?"

Not that anyone has ever succeeded with this line with me, but if the man suggesting as much is wearing a kilt... well, he probably doesn't have to ask twice.

Course the other one is: The Scottish fella was heading home from the pub, when he decided he was tired and stopped to sleep by the side of the road. Early the next morning two Scottish lass' were heading to market when they saw this fella in a kilt by the side of the road. One says to the other "I wonder if he's wearin' anything under there." So they take a peek. And they like what they see so much, that one lass takes her blue hair ribbon and ties it on him before going on their way. Sometime later the fella wakes up, stretches, and stands to relieve himself. He looks down in surprise and remarks "I don't know what we did last night, Willy, but whatever it was, we won first place!"

There is a really manly thing about being able to wear a 'skirt' with confidence, and let me tell you, that really is a turn-on. Nice defined shoulders, a kilt that sits perfectly on his hips, brushing above his knees, revealing defined sock clad calves... hmmm. This is a yummy that compares to green flightsuits in my book.

Yes, I am a weird one, as L commented when I was encouraging him to wear a kilt, talking to him a little while ago.

Many moons ago I lived in that big city of San Antonio, and having a boyfriend at the time who lived for football games (thus now why my search criteria emphasizes no sports addicts), I had nothing to do on Sunday afternoons except the crossword puzzle in the paper or go see a movie by myself. Then a friend asked me to come to a dance class with her one afternoon. A Scottish Country Dance class. A three hour workout for my legs, great cardio, and so much fun. The gatherings like Highland Games and Celtic Fests were great to wander, much like Renaissance Fairs, and people having fun.

See, I consider myself an all-American mutt, with lineages going in all directions: Native American Indian, Polish, Scottish, Lithuanian, Irish, just to name a few. I know somewhere in my great-great-grandfather's background there is a middle name that came from the town in Ireland he was born in. Whatever it is means I can celebrate my heritage, which-ever one happens to be celebrating something.

So tonight, after work, I went to the Ceilidh for this weekends local CeltFest. Beer, dancing, silent auction where I almost bid on welding equipment, great live music, and friendly conversations. Oh, and plenty of eye candy with nice hips and bare knees. Yes, I ogled. Hell, men check me out, why can't I check them out?

Ahh, plenty of fantasy material to last awhile... just imagining what they may or may not have on under those kilts... and wondering if I could get my own man in one... I've got the blue ribbons ready.

period

I 'know' my cycle, but have yet to be able to pinpoint the exact time that the red will begin to run. It's a damn good thing I wore underwear today, but I still feel like I'm a teenager again. The not so pleasant clenching of legs together, the desire to go home and change into something more akin to a diaper. The mad dashes to the restroom, only to find I'm dripping blood down my thigh.

For some reason I still adhere to the "period is a dirty thing" mindset, at least to the point that you just don't discuss it beyond having cramps or say "It's that time of the month." and everyone will understand and leave you alone.

But it's not. Dirty. Yeah, the red/brown stains on my underwear or skirt are not pretty. Yeah, I still feel awkward having sex on my period because of the mess, and I haven't been in a relationship with anyone long enough to get comfortable enough having sex while bleeding. Yeah, there's the spicy scent that seems to emanate from between my legs that just doesn't seem sexy, but I am horny most days of my period. Hell, I'm horny most days. Period.

This is the cycle of life. Also the cycle of hormones as I'm painfully aware of every four weeks when I want to cry for no reason or snap people's heads off because I feel like it. This is a cycle that lets me know my body is working properly, and everything is in running order, no pun intended. This is a part of me for the next however many years, that will regularly flush my blood out until the time comes to bear children, or to go through menopause.

This is a cycle I know, how heavy the flow is on what days, I know what brand of products work best for me, and yeah, I may just take another shower today because I feel like it. There is a part of me that breathes a sigh of relief and goes "I had sex and I'm not pregnant." Then there is the other part of me that sighs in resignation and goes "I'm not pregnant." Those are partly the hormones of emotions, or the emotions of hormones, whatever, and partly the desire to have a family, to nurture someone else. Obviously logic does not play a part in these emotions, and thus I crave chocolate and comfort foods.

I'm not 16 anymore, waiting in the really long checkout line at the store just to get a woman cashier, afraid of the male cashier. Now I could care less, a line is a line, and yes, I'm buying super absorbent tampons, maxi pads, a box of chocolate cookies, chocolate milk, and that bag of chips.

todays random thought

Pudding.
You don't chew pudding.
But rice pudding? You kinda have to chew rice pudding.
Kinda.

groan

Why I thought ice cream and fritos with hot tea for a sinus/allergy headache was a good idea I'll never know. But for some reason it sounded good about an hour ago.

I'm on a war path

but it seems to be slowing down now... which is good, because it's like 2:45 in the morning.

Got eight, count 'em, eight! loads of laundry done today. Packed away sweaters. Packed away heating mattress pad and down comforter. Swept the deck around the pool to prepare for removing the pool cover - thus kicked up lots of dirt in the sweeping and am now well aware of my nasal cavity because of the sneezing and running nose. Found the drill bit I was looking for, figured out the technique to work it - and they said it couldn't be done - ha! Cut many pieces of wood, one of which popped back and wapped me in the very same running nose. Oh, my finger will be ok, still throbby, just a little swollen, and I will probably keep the nail - though brando had me scared with his story that I would lose it. Hmm, what else? Looked at digital cameras for like half a second, then realized they are all still pretty much out of my price range. Bought a case of beer instead - don't worry, this will last me several weeks, no, probably months. Finishing painting on one piece, will start carving on others tomorrow. And a trip down memory lane with L. Jeez, for a second there I actually wrote his name, then I caught it and realized the flow of thought to word process here, and fixed it. Anyway, he's been remembering things, some that I admit were slightly difficult and not happy - like the trip to Florida for Christmas, where we fought, and I cried - and some that were nice - like the butterflies and Niagara Falls. We talked, yes, mostly memories, he's feeling better and remembering helps. I honestly did not know how disconnected he was during so much of the time I've known him, so it's a bit awkward for me to process, although it feels better having him share with me instead of avoid me because of it all. The hard part of this is that part of me feels like it was/is a one sided relationship, and I am holding on to a memory/personality of a man, while he's been living a completely different life. Maybe I'm the one who's disconnected and have put more into what was or could be. No wonder I hesitate daily over the thought of moving, I mean, I knew I was scared of moving so far away from my family and all that, but... what if I or he realize we really aren't the people we thought we were, and then we pull away, and I'm lost and floundering alone 2000 miles away from a support system. Gah, lots of what-ifs, I know, but this is what I worry about. No wonder I don't want to commit, no wonder I go out and fuck someone else, I'm afraid to commit to L fully because I'm afraid he doesn't want to commit to me, in some strange way, I think I'm protecting myself by not getting too close.

Well. I've worn myself out now with all this. And I still have to put sheets on the bed before I go to sleep - because I'm kinda crazy like that, I prefer to have sheets on the bed I'm sleeping in. And if my nose doesn't stop running I'm gonna wap it again and see what that does. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Not the most pleasant feeling in the world

I hope you never experience it - but it's that feeling of impact the moment a steel door slams my index finger twixt it and the steel door frame. Makes for much cussing and hopping around. Makes for much throbbing and not-so-pretty purple swelling of said finger. Makes it very difficult to write, which is what I do at work, but thankfully I can still peck-type with my left hand.

Hmm. The term self-destructive comes to mind. The possibility that I sub-consciously had my finger in the wrong place at the wrong time... yeah, possible. Eh, fuck it. Too tired to postulate deep and meaningful thoughts, so gonna go paint something instead.

emote

Something about heat lightning firing through the sky reminds me of the feeling of passion: lighting up the dark, piercing the thick clouds, rolling across the horizon. There is no direct connection yet they flow together so seamlessly. Oh, and both have the possibility to start fires - on the ground and in the soul.

Passion is a fire I like. Heat lightning is a scene I watch. It builds up slowly, banking and supporting itself, light rolling and exploding at the moments you least expect it to. Those moments show how tall the walls of clouds are, the walls that contain it so beautifully. It builds throughout the day, reconciling in a show, and dissapating when its energy is spent.

Suspend that line between reality and future, forgiving all past mistakes, all past confusion. Behold that which is here now, that drive or desire that pours forth, that which can be, and make it so. Protect yourself properly, you know, to prevent pain, but savor the feeling of excitement of being so close to that edge. Fire burns above as below, inside as out.

cory is the cure

So it's still 2:30ish because I just got home from the bar, but the clock on my computer says 3 already.

I am not depressed anymore. Wwell, at least not right now. It's impossible to be depredssed when I went out and had fun. Cory morrow played at Dos tonight, and it was great! A few more than a couple of shiners in me, and I'm now eating a bag of fritos to try to soak up some of the alcohol before I fall asleep. And oh my god my feet are killing me - the blisters are what I get for wearing two inch heeled boots to a concert where I stood and danced the whole time. Oh yeah - and I am pretty horse from screaming, so talking tomorrow is gonna be fun. :)

You know what? I like it. I mean the attitude and joy de life-ness. I like being happy, even if it is induced by singing along with the band, drinking beer, two-stepping, and making new friends with people I just met. Damnit - why can't L live in austin? that would be so much eacier for me to decide to move, cause I'd move there in aq heartbest. If it were only that friggin east to do.

so now that my keyborad is sufficently greasy from the fritos, and my head isn't spimmimg aas badly, I'm gonna go to bed and dream happy dreams.

No answers. Always questions.

Forever?
No
No forever
Just now
To be
Just be
Be what?
Be who?
I don't know how to do that
Yes you do
No I don't
I remember
I don't
I feel it
Scared
Anxious
Determined
Frustrated
Hopeful
Depressed
Wondering
Tears fall
Again
Always questions
No answers