Because It's F*cken Good.

I am.

“Sometimes Truth doesn’t come in a pretty package. it usually comes in a brown paper bag, with an oil stain on the back.” C. Sandoval

Today I found out more hurts, as if it was capable of finding out further truths to pick at and destroy this scab I have been trying to build.

I want to move on so as not to remain hurt, but not nec move on without love from X. Did I ever have it?, I wonder. I felt he might have loved me. Perhaps he grew disquiet at the panic of seeing what unconditional love looked like and what a sweet, caring, evolved woman in his arms looked like. Perhaps he did not know what to do with me. Too much for him? Perhaps I am.

I know that I never want to feel like I am “not _______ enough” of anything ever again. and every day, almost without fail, I have told myself and retold and sold to me, and mine, that I am “_____ enough” of anything.

Out of this pain, processing and relevation, came
an affirmation for myself:
"Let me be TOO MUCH of a good thing for the foolhardy who do not know how to value, and celebrate and love and cherish a good thing, a treasure as me. Let me be TOO MUCH, for I know in my heart as wide as the ocean, as fertile and fecund as Mother Earth/Sky and in my spirit, which can dance like the wind or cast fires against sadnesses and hurts which such Ire so to banish them from treading the fragility of fleeting Happiness! I know in all these realms that make me ME, that I am always and will be ENOUGH."

Of those who have wittingly (or otherwise) hurt me, I say without reproach..'They' may not have been ready for such splendour, class, beauty and love to come at once, in one package, and so potently. Too perhaps They may be those who see most clearly in hindsight, given time and perspective after (regretfully) discarding your author. Perhaps then they may note, “Ah, I guess indeed, she DID shine!” Sadder still is that in waiting to see retrospectively and only then recognizing light and love and beauty, they will have missed the actual ME. The Me who sat with them remaining present in all manner as best I could, happily giving them my gifts of time and of love. I have given many such gifts, and felt very pained when these precious gifts were no longer bestowed upon me. I know that I must walk and seek out those who also Shine and who come (waiting on baited breath no less !) to bestow a true, and unbridled Love, for a shiny thing as me. Let Like attract Like, and merrily!

and a Thanks:
Thank you Goddess, for giving me the gifts of insight, of sensitivity, of perseverance, of patience, of stubborness, of humour, of curiosity about the world, people and of myself, of gentleness (for therein lies my Power), of playfulness, of wonder, of light. Without these gifts I would remain a sad little sack seated on the dank floor of a kitchen eternally hurt and confounded by the spokes and wheels which come jabbing back with passing time.

I thank you for such gifts bestowed upon me. Let me shine my light brightly and for myself first and foremost! Let others who are compelled by it, follow and learn to Shine for themselves; let those whom I do not touch nor compel, pass me by, gently, without a stir, but perhaps with a small reflection to carry them onward. Let my heart, spirit, mind, body et al remain safe and strong and pure as I peacefully, without apology nor regret...let them be. (Oh Heart, do you have it in you? Such laborous tasks must you do yet, to muster true empathy!)

and of course, a little humour:
Wisdom strains from such painful processes. And I am wise enough yet, so please keep me!

how come wisdom is acquired through such a painful process?

blessed are the fools who live life hardy and carefree...also conscience-free, heartless. blessed are they who think not of the toll of parking on your heart only to back their car in, and take it several turns and enough opportunity to scratch up all others around you, only to change their mind, and proceeding to relocate and pull out. fuck you very much. now who will pay for the dent you made? surely my Life insurance is the only one who is fit to cover such a tax. there are no deductables in Life, you pay for the whole damn thing all by yourself, no matter who's fault it was. your little car, once so shiny and polished will never look the same. she may drive a bit weary too, growling gutterally with a low moan as she turns a corner when she sees another that looks like you.

takers, voyeurs, conquistadors, fence-sitters, peddlers of falsehoods, 'tourists' in this trip called my Life...away with ye!

The Collector
Collecting little pebbles in Life which bring in a little light, and the ones which come bearing darknesses; their weight leadeding as they line the pockets. There are more pebbles on one side than the other...as the carrier gets weary. When she is less so, this weight becomes feathers, no longer burdening, no longer burning, boring holes in her back, nor commanding an unsteady gait. Her pockets are full just the same, yet trudging onward, she is undeterred by hills. The Collector holds a secret arsenal...her eyes remain ahead watching for the flash of suns, small shiny guides, small pebbles of light, like beacons for the heart.


non-communication as a coping tactic never works. it is the coward's choice. go back to the drawing board. muster up some courage, a smidge of respect for yourself and for the other, and come back another day.

Men of the Month (but compiled this time!)

some fave males - and all for different reasons.

Damon Albarn
*a Brit
*BLUR! (and several other bands, and independant projects)
*musical gifted person
*independant thinker and risk taker
*involved in many, many collaborative and creative projects
*likes to fuse different genres, styles, play with concepts, imagery (ie. animated band "Gorillaz")
*not a pretty boy- but intriguing nonetheless...mostly for his laid back swagger, deep baritone mixed with boyish looks
*VERY respected in the biz (worked with heavy weights like Bowie etc.)
*bit of a brainiac, articulate, learned person..easy to listen to
*likes a spot of tea!


The Glambert
*bit of a sexy, bad boy
*talented singer & SHOWMAN
*candid and opinionated sometimes to a 'fault' (depending on whose article you read)
*has more than a bit of a "fuck 'em if they can't take a joke" 'titude...(see below)
*...which is coupled with warmth- he is never harsh, or sharp
*armed with ample wit and humour & knows how to use it
*more of an Artist than a prefab prop of music producers- owning his own style
*openly gay & FABULOUS!
*charisma to BUUURN...baby!
*go, Glambert, go!


Robbie Williams
*made crooning swagger COOL again (but was it ever NOT?!)
*Brit
*gives good interview
*twinkle in the eye ;)
*can nab the hearts of bobbysockers, grannies and gays alike!
*can go from pop, to rock to ballads, effortlessly- very VERSATILE artist
*bit of a naughty boy but not bad, cold nor mean. (*yay* and yay)
*charming showman - crowd pleaser, momentum creator
*funny and easily self-deprecating
*vulnerable side (listen to some lyrics)....Robbie gets lonely too, you know!
*just got engaged! nice to see he can feel deeply and also find happiness :)
*could prob break your heart, or make it beat rapturously depending on mood, day, location of the moon..that unpredictable quality which can be kind of enticing


Iggy Pop
*so NOT pretty
*could write a song about being BORED and have it become a f* anthem for the punk,the angst, the closeted bored et al!
*being perpetually be cool and weird and be loved for it- his being irreverantly "different"
*once rumored love of young Bowie..(was "Velvet Goldmine" really based on their affair in the 60/70s..?) HOT.
*you don't bloody care if he is off-key as he has that Lou Reed quality -ie. sings like shit, but the song is good anyway- or perhaps the BETTER for it!
*can listed to when BORED, angry, frustrated, horny, driving, tired, walking, cocky, tipsy, silly, net surfing, etc. In short, when you FOCKING FEEL LIKE IT.
*brings out my teenage angst, post-punk 16-yr old, and Little Irish :)

more Men to Celebrate later..!
(the Women to Celebrate in later edition..)

scathing new blog...or "Girls Who Don't Pee"

Sometimes I ruminate on the idea of starting a whole new blogosphere and calling it, (and this is critical and non-negotiable).."Girls Who Don't Pee".

Today I had the bemusement and mild annoyance, of meeting stall-to-stall with another such creature from my office floor (other offices, one bathroom sort of thing). This one was much like the others...(here I let out a sigh for dramatic effect..and, well, because I is tired!). As soon as she became aware of my presence entering bathroom, she became silent. Deadly silent. As in, "I am not even here" silent. As in, if-I-am-quiet-enough-maybe-my-bladder-will-open-up-and-I-can-refill-it-by-defying-gravity-so-I-don't-have-to-pee-anymore silent.

It was, to say the least, disturbing. I wanted to tap on the wall playfully and ease that tension, "C'mon, girl, Let it out! You're among friends here! Nothing I aint heard before!" (yes, I've heard more than I care to recall. but SEEN worse. let's not go there...)

Meantime, I unfolded the paper seat cover and prepped for my business. When I step into a public bathroom, time is fleeting, with my meager little break dwindling away with every second, I take my business seriously. While I took care of my needs without too much violence or assault on the senses of others, miss Lady wadded up balls of toilet paper to 'muffle' sounds. It was painstaking to listen to (try as I might to NOT. .), and even more painstaking to feel her embarrassment at the self-enforced hiding of this 'thing' that didnt' happen. She did definitely NOT pee. It did not happen. (You didn't see anything, now move along!) Finally, in an act of bladder salvation, she let the loud flush to grant her precious few seconds in which to her business be set free. LAWD! Thank goddess for the flush, else this poor girl would have gotten herself purple bladder had I decided to 'linger' and sit in my stall. I think she would have preferred that than to be heard really letting it rip! (and we're still talking about Number 1 here!)

Now I know what you're thinking: I'm not taking into account a complicated, multi-faceted issues respective of cultural background, ideas, beliefs, misconceptions, etc., socialization, gender expectation, and the like. Yes, I am! But I'm irked nonetheless that somewhere in the minds of some of these young women it has become socially unacceptable, even embarrassing to let a perfectly natural function of every human being occur. Even in a place expressly there FOR that very purpose!

Why is there so much shame and embarrassment? Aren't women supposed to be partake in more 'base' or primal needs? Why not? Are we made to be beautiful, pristine creatures who naturally awake curly-lashed, gorgeous, glossy haired, patchouli-scented, green apple shampooed and doe-eyed maidens who are ethereal, other-wordly, thereby, not quite of this earth? makes one ponder: perhaps a beautiful woman in some cultures IS to be an otherwordly creature who is perfect. If supposedly 'base' needs (eating, sleeping, defecating, copulating, etc.) represent something Less than that, then one must strive to be better than the real, the UN-Cola! And of course, culturally set templates are only reyfied and perpetuated while being imposed into our frontal lobes via popular media and other institutions (church, schools).

Cue the commercial with the ever- jovial mom who has to clean up after her kid, dog AND husband all with a smile on her face, a svelte figure and cute shiny hair. The Perfect Woman who has it All! (and in fine print, who DOES it all too- and simultaneously and without recognition as work! ha "oh, please! That's all part of being a woman!" she's perfect, and efficient, shiny haired, and excitedly jumping up and down in white pants if menstruating). Yippee! that perfect woman on Teli prob does NOT go to the bathroom either;)

Keeping our selves all tucked up and lifted up and plucked around and shaven and shiny and sucked in is such a toil and on-going demand on the 'cleaning up' of a real human woman. It is startling how much of this Real Human Woman needs to be either repaired of cleaned up. Look at any commercial on teli: douche with this, wear this deodorant, make your hair shinier with this, put on these, wear this up there during that you-know-time-of-the-month unspokenness, lose weight using this, and so on... The repair and maintenance of the Real Human Woman, who by virtue of undoing her 'naturalness' becomes UNreal, thereby a Better, Cleaner, more pristine human being.

How is does one navigate from looking "attainable", yet remaining perfect, pristine (whereby expressing bodily functions are relegated to "Lesser than" ladylike or classy), also as culturally understood with respect to class differentiation [ie. low class vs. high class], class structures, and of course, gender differences and expectations (ie. men can shout and make noise, women are to be gentle, subdued and above all, QUIET.) That is perhaps a longer, juicier blog for future..another one to chew on later.

But now the night awaits, and me, I'm a mortal fleshy human person who needs to recuperate her body, rest her mind and let other cellular parts of me regenerate as they will. But come first thing in the morning...well let's just say you wouldn't want to play 'tent' with me.

tee hee.

on The Fly

miscellaneous observations from the mind of the wandering SylphFly:

*loud burping woman on bus coughing afterward in a meek (and belated) attempt to disguise said burp. ha oh it's ok, honey. shit happens.

*three stocky middle-aged men, all wearing the same salmon/or blue standard man's shirt over their black pants, walking in a horizontal line and reeking of the same (or likely simile) heavy cologne that does such a poor job of masking putrid sweaty oil on older men's bodies. it becomes sort of a sickly sweetly, tangy, scent of ass and putrifying orchids. none of which are things I particularly like. :)

I guess it feeds that concept of the people around you influencing you and you in turn reifying your identity by influencing them.

feck. I wish one of them was a trailblazer and decided on the radical concept of 'taking a shower more often!'. now: everybody else FOLLOW HIS EXAMPLE!

*speaking of smells...why do dentists offices generally smell like a disturbing mix of tin (like dental braces), mint, amnonia and a bag of fresh blood. ick. years of therapy and I now realize THIS as the catalyst of my nightmares...well, this and CLOWNS!

"Say hello...to my little friend"

this fly. has been illegally, and unconcentually (sp?) living with me for the past few days. IN FACT....ever since my mother LEFT for....VACATION.
aha! I'm putting it all together- it's some sort of stand-in for pestering and security watch over me, namely mom's little tasks, when she is here in the flesh...
but I digress.


I have been watching this thing, air-swimming around, doing back-flips, and parachuting dives and swoops upon over the upholstery...for days now. BUZZ. BUZZZZZZZ. (where'd it go...its quiet now...maybe it's finally left..?..?.BUZZZZZ!!!!!!! NOPE!)

and I have to wonder: are flies really this friggin' stoopid?! I have opened the balcony doors wide open, turned off any 'attractive' (to the flies!) lights, stood motionless, so as to not 'spook' it if it made its way around the window..and NUTHIN. It seems desperate to get out, and furiously buzzes around, comes oh-so-close to the opening doors to Freedom....! but no. back inside it goes.

Apart from this little irritation, I try to drink from the glass half-full perspective and ask of myself: "now, what might this little fly be teaching me?"

Are there doors being cracked open to me, but do I not see them, instead circling around the proverbial 'manure' or light (aka. the things I 'see', the immediately visible)? Am I supposed to be looking elsewhere, rather than onto the things in my immediate presence? hm. Career decisions looming...(when aren't they??), so I am getting philosophical again, and trying to get out of 'gerbil wheel' mentality of being stuck in the present situation, while also not delving into unknown, the unforeseen, etc. "tuning in"...

so, what to take from this silly little fly's quest. Does it strive to be great, or have a happy, fulfilled life? one might assume, well perhaps! does it bear no purpose except to be noisy, and irritating to humans, by circling mindlessly, senselessly, endlessly in seemingly-random directions? (moving in seemingly-random directions..?)

feck. is this fly me?

why do I suddenly want to perch onto the nearest stick of butter, and also grab my oversized "Bono" shades (circa "Zoo Sation" tour ;).

much like this post, the fly's dance may have no meaning or purpose! perhaps the same can be said of life at some moments, sometimes it looks as if you are on a trajectory, flowing forth, and then...a stick of shit appears in your precense (read into that what you will, dear reader) and you lose focus, and instead start to cicumnavigate around it like it was a brick o' gold.

Jaybus, is this fly me?

why don't I seek out the 'open doors'? perhaps they are obscured from my vision as I am focussing on other things of immediate proximal distance (ie. present-day job, present-day friends, present-day living situation, etc.) Perhaps, this fly is showing me how circling around the same shit, aint moving toward any kind of newfound freedom, but rather festering in senseless circles which get it nowhere different (or better) and annoy the shit out of people who are witnessing these meanderings.

well, f* me sideways! this fly is me.