After a scrape on the knee you apply ointment and a band-aid on it, and wonder "Will this faciliate my healing?" Well, no, not really. The body is predestined towards healing itself. It will produce puss and it will form a scar so the new tissue can grow unencumbered, anew. The body is always moving forward in attempt to heal itself, regrowth, regenerating, renewal, etc. Always working toward healing itself in so many ways.
For instance, with a broken heart...the body knows to heal itself. So the body walks itself into an establishment specializing in various adult-oriented liquids. The body then, uses the eyes to scan, and lips to remember a savour...the hand to pull out a wallet. These actions set in motion the consumption of grapey-originated tannin red beverages to imbibe, and thus, heal itself.
The body knows. It is wise.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
News - a Spoken Word Rant
when is the Right time to tune in to hear / watch / read about something horrible, sometime, somewhere in the world. Maybe somewhere far, maybe right next door, maybe down the street.
Why would anyone want to wake up with the birds singing, and a nice coffee's aroma freshly brewing, to crack open fresh-squeezed (or reconstituted) stories which have become the equivalent of Grade C fatty meat shoved into a grinder to urn out Texas-sized chunks of pain for our consumption. We know full well that even bite-sized meshes can clog one's mind and spirit...but fresh or not, we readily consume them. Yum. Yum!
And with a short breath exhalation, we crack open the parchment to..SCREAMING ASSAULTS OF:
boys being decapitated on the bus, or little girls gone missing, or men pummelled to death after interfering in a fight, or women gone absent without notice- invisibles that no one has noted until the media declares these incidences (posited as "rarities" when they are far from incidental. These incidents sadly, plural, always plural). "Oh, what a shame" and..."Isn't it too late to do anything?", or "I hope this never happens again!". But it will, until and unless something radically changes and we, the collective 'we' and the lawmakers take the absence of women of colour or of prostitutes with as much urgency and notibility as that of an affluent, middle-class caucasian men and women. Then there are the litigious Leaders, charismatic Conquistadors, regimental Rulers and Kings, Nobles, Prime Ministers, Governors, Premiers, CEO's and an array of Titles for those who can Titularly yield the ax of Power. Knowledgable, educated adults puppeteering soldiers like little checkers on a board, pawns in games of strategy - along with the citizens corralled by fear* (a lovely motivator* if ever there was one). Dinosaurs dictating old-school sermons, with now-questionable ethics unleashed on a New World that is for the most part, run by antiquated systems and ideologies. Here the preacher becomes a politician, the politican becomes a preacher, orator, actor, talking head, war head. Countries entering an inconceivable 24th year of a civil war (what a paradox. where there be nothing "civil" near "war"- these as two mutually exclusive terms as there could ever be. "I say old chap, would you mind terribly if we shoot that camp here, or should we do the one over there?" "Oh, it's no bother. It was your turn anyway." "Will do. Oh, and remember come Christmas we have to stop shooting at one another." "Right, right, old man. Thank you for that reminder. Tea?"). Endless streams of one-upmanship with murders, bombings, terrorism, psychological, physical, tangible, unreal, weapons using anything from spit to weapons of mass destruction upping that ante. Whatever It was years ago, whatever It might have started at, has gone wayward indeed, and the waters murky as blood turns black on both sides. Now these civil wars, and Friendly Fires underscore who holds the biggest grudge (well, they ALL do now) with no one backing down, compromising, nor applying diplomacy. Why bother through such logistics and administration, when it is always much splashier on the page to see a new Martyr born, a Villian brought down, a Hero (likely born of death unto another, but these *pesky details* rarely get much airtime, don't they?). Sensationalized terms, labels, names and dramatic, dichotomizing rhetoric ("If you're not with us, you're against us") spun to sell to the lowest common denominator, and to the many who read this and nothing but (drinking straight from the paper bag like it was mother's milk), consuming from monopolized media sources is akin to eating the same porridge and calling it steak and pie! That is all you have known, will know, and have been born into. It's not your fault, brother! Born if not bred into a pathology of violence, a sick society which feeds on other ills, using fear and violence as leverage to support deadly games aimed to marginalize, manipulate, misogynize, and mark groups against one another until they are non-humans, aliens, Things. Easier to diassociate from and kill...specimens alien from you, posited as The Other, Them. And on that note, anOther group of people shot by an unstable disgruntled employee from some employee-exploiting, opportunistic corporation specializing in churning out a consistent stream of faceless names who wear numbers on a little badge, to deftly add the next chump in line to take over disgruntled, gone-postal guy in-a-jiffy! Why else is outsourcing so profitable for companies? Because when one exploited, needy worker dies or leaves a post, there are newer models waiting in line to take her place. On this sad note too, the scroll depicts how another animal has died in captivity (as though we should be surprised to learn that animals actually do not thrive under UN-natural conditions). Oh, really? Numerous incidences of animals who, no longer having the wild come to them, go seeking it only to find alarmed suburbanites with snotty-nosed kids in their backyard now going white from fear with an . Having legally settled on said wild animals' territory (and once indigenous' people's land), in effect taking over the ex-livingrooms of said animals - yuppites can feel safer from govermentally-sanctioned culling of inconveniences like animals. Yo dont like the scratches a cougar can leave on your kid, I get it! But killing an animal for, well being an animal is a bit like kicking a cat because it has scratched you after you have been treating it like a plaything. And things of play set far aside, a reader with ill-begotten luck can easily find that another asshole has been born, and destroyed or royally screwed the life of another, by bullet, by knifing, by not caring, by appropriating, by abusing, bullying, trespassing on the right's of others, walking on the backs of others, by obscuring facts to fool others, by white (collar)-washing inconvenient truths so those who do learn and who choose to speak look like fools, and those who do not speak can believe the lie from fear. Lies working in tandem with Fear, you ask? Propaganda, anyone? How about this doozy: this grand ruse, "If you only work hard enough..you will - -- - - - -- (inset sentiment akin to 'change your life')." The ole Bootstrap Theory. Sure, it may work for some, but more as an anomaly of brilliant luck and timing. For the most part, statistically, this rhetoric will sing like a rusty pipe dream. Sounds good in theory, but problematic in application. If you happen to have been born in the lower 3rd rung (4th rung?) along the socioeconomic ladder, then you have already been born into instant disadvantage with respect to access to resources, to education, to food, to comfort, to work, to relationship to others, your parents (hard to do when they both work). But like all brilliant ruses, it is designed to distract the minds and hearts of hopeful, earnest people, workers and non-workers alike. Reading news about Others and Their problems will distract the minds and eyes of the Average Citizen as they read about misery elsewhere, and question less the way they themselves are being repressed, controlled and ripped off in quietly, sneaky, benevolent ways (made not-so-quiet by the recent Occupy movement). You want to be informed, you want to know what goes on in the world, but must this be with a heartburn of the mind and an erosion of the soul? Must knowledge be at this high a price? Soon sanity beckons. You hear the call..and so
you CLOSE THE PAPER! QUICKLY! QUICKLY! before you fall down hell's rabbit hole again. (Breath out.)
Why would you want to read Ugly in the morning?
As a way to start your day? What kind of way is that to preserve or move any positive energy into the world? We are fed tripe like it's sugary cereal that "gives kids energy" (yeah, it does. so does crack). We are stuffed to the gills with hype and the hyperactive-inducing tools to get us out there buying our immense coffees, speed-texting because the GD world might end any minute anyway, ranting angrily in traffic or keeping glum expressions on smelly buses on the way to jobs that we have to tolerate to pay, you know, for those things...bills, they call them. Why, oh why would you want to eat feed on this in the morning? If you're lucky, you have a bowel movement in the morning to dispose of toxins, so why would you want to immediately add on a new layer of toxicity for your mind? Is this healthy? Are we addicted to drama? Drama with coffee...to go?
Ok, so how about reading it in the afternoon?
After a long day's work and you want to rest your weary little head and pop up your weary little feet (or head or neck or back or whatever ails you) come the end of a stressful day. Why, oh why would you want to add to the stress now, and never get a chance to bring the level of ugly down at some point in your day? When do you get a respite? When does your mind get to breathe? When do you let your soul expand its breath unselfconsciously, and without guilt (aye, there is the rub! It gets tricky here)?
Well, what about at night then??
But why, oh why in (insert god')s name would you want to watch and hear of something absolutely hideous as a way to "ease off the stresses of the day" (and of life!) in time to relax and drift off feeling safe in the knowledge that you may have another sleep coming your way to recuperate your cells and your body. Why in god's name would you want to drink sour milk to put you to sleep? If its to trip off of stress responses in the messed up sleep cycle, go for it! To each his insomniatic own, but I prefer to give myself a fighting chance at finding peace, even for a moment to fool myself into thinking that...at some point, in some part of the world, perhaps far away, perhaps close, perhaps around the corner, down the block, in my bed...there lies a little bit of hope and of peace to remind me that there is good in the world.
I like to believe this when I wake up, when I come home after stress, when I ready for bed. I need to.
Why would anyone want to wake up with the birds singing, and a nice coffee's aroma freshly brewing, to crack open fresh-squeezed (or reconstituted) stories which have become the equivalent of Grade C fatty meat shoved into a grinder to urn out Texas-sized chunks of pain for our consumption. We know full well that even bite-sized meshes can clog one's mind and spirit...but fresh or not, we readily consume them. Yum. Yum!
And with a short breath exhalation, we crack open the parchment to..SCREAMING ASSAULTS OF:
boys being decapitated on the bus, or little girls gone missing, or men pummelled to death after interfering in a fight, or women gone absent without notice- invisibles that no one has noted until the media declares these incidences (posited as "rarities" when they are far from incidental. These incidents sadly, plural, always plural). "Oh, what a shame" and..."Isn't it too late to do anything?", or "I hope this never happens again!". But it will, until and unless something radically changes and we, the collective 'we' and the lawmakers take the absence of women of colour or of prostitutes with as much urgency and notibility as that of an affluent, middle-class caucasian men and women. Then there are the litigious Leaders, charismatic Conquistadors, regimental Rulers and Kings, Nobles, Prime Ministers, Governors, Premiers, CEO's and an array of Titles for those who can Titularly yield the ax of Power. Knowledgable, educated adults puppeteering soldiers like little checkers on a board, pawns in games of strategy - along with the citizens corralled by fear* (a lovely motivator* if ever there was one). Dinosaurs dictating old-school sermons, with now-questionable ethics unleashed on a New World that is for the most part, run by antiquated systems and ideologies. Here the preacher becomes a politician, the politican becomes a preacher, orator, actor, talking head, war head. Countries entering an inconceivable 24th year of a civil war (what a paradox. where there be nothing "civil" near "war"- these as two mutually exclusive terms as there could ever be. "I say old chap, would you mind terribly if we shoot that camp here, or should we do the one over there?" "Oh, it's no bother. It was your turn anyway." "Will do. Oh, and remember come Christmas we have to stop shooting at one another." "Right, right, old man. Thank you for that reminder. Tea?"). Endless streams of one-upmanship with murders, bombings, terrorism, psychological, physical, tangible, unreal, weapons using anything from spit to weapons of mass destruction upping that ante. Whatever It was years ago, whatever It might have started at, has gone wayward indeed, and the waters murky as blood turns black on both sides. Now these civil wars, and Friendly Fires underscore who holds the biggest grudge (well, they ALL do now) with no one backing down, compromising, nor applying diplomacy. Why bother through such logistics and administration, when it is always much splashier on the page to see a new Martyr born, a Villian brought down, a Hero (likely born of death unto another, but these *pesky details* rarely get much airtime, don't they?). Sensationalized terms, labels, names and dramatic, dichotomizing rhetoric ("If you're not with us, you're against us") spun to sell to the lowest common denominator, and to the many who read this and nothing but (drinking straight from the paper bag like it was mother's milk), consuming from monopolized media sources is akin to eating the same porridge and calling it steak and pie! That is all you have known, will know, and have been born into. It's not your fault, brother! Born if not bred into a pathology of violence, a sick society which feeds on other ills, using fear and violence as leverage to support deadly games aimed to marginalize, manipulate, misogynize, and mark groups against one another until they are non-humans, aliens, Things. Easier to diassociate from and kill...specimens alien from you, posited as The Other, Them. And on that note, anOther group of people shot by an unstable disgruntled employee from some employee-exploiting, opportunistic corporation specializing in churning out a consistent stream of faceless names who wear numbers on a little badge, to deftly add the next chump in line to take over disgruntled, gone-postal guy in-a-jiffy! Why else is outsourcing so profitable for companies? Because when one exploited, needy worker dies or leaves a post, there are newer models waiting in line to take her place. On this sad note too, the scroll depicts how another animal has died in captivity (as though we should be surprised to learn that animals actually do not thrive under UN-natural conditions). Oh, really? Numerous incidences of animals who, no longer having the wild come to them, go seeking it only to find alarmed suburbanites with snotty-nosed kids in their backyard now going white from fear with an . Having legally settled on said wild animals' territory (and once indigenous' people's land), in effect taking over the ex-livingrooms of said animals - yuppites can feel safer from govermentally-sanctioned culling of inconveniences like animals. Yo dont like the scratches a cougar can leave on your kid, I get it! But killing an animal for, well being an animal is a bit like kicking a cat because it has scratched you after you have been treating it like a plaything. And things of play set far aside, a reader with ill-begotten luck can easily find that another asshole has been born, and destroyed or royally screwed the life of another, by bullet, by knifing, by not caring, by appropriating, by abusing, bullying, trespassing on the right's of others, walking on the backs of others, by obscuring facts to fool others, by white (collar)-washing inconvenient truths so those who do learn and who choose to speak look like fools, and those who do not speak can believe the lie from fear. Lies working in tandem with Fear, you ask? Propaganda, anyone? How about this doozy: this grand ruse, "If you only work hard enough..you will - -- - - - -- (inset sentiment akin to 'change your life')." The ole Bootstrap Theory. Sure, it may work for some, but more as an anomaly of brilliant luck and timing. For the most part, statistically, this rhetoric will sing like a rusty pipe dream. Sounds good in theory, but problematic in application. If you happen to have been born in the lower 3rd rung (4th rung?) along the socioeconomic ladder, then you have already been born into instant disadvantage with respect to access to resources, to education, to food, to comfort, to work, to relationship to others, your parents (hard to do when they both work). But like all brilliant ruses, it is designed to distract the minds and hearts of hopeful, earnest people, workers and non-workers alike. Reading news about Others and Their problems will distract the minds and eyes of the Average Citizen as they read about misery elsewhere, and question less the way they themselves are being repressed, controlled and ripped off in quietly, sneaky, benevolent ways (made not-so-quiet by the recent Occupy movement). You want to be informed, you want to know what goes on in the world, but must this be with a heartburn of the mind and an erosion of the soul? Must knowledge be at this high a price? Soon sanity beckons. You hear the call..and so
you CLOSE THE PAPER! QUICKLY! QUICKLY! before you fall down hell's rabbit hole again. (Breath out.)
Why would you want to read Ugly in the morning?
Ok, so how about reading it in the afternoon?
After a long day's work and you want to rest your weary little head and pop up your weary little feet (or head or neck or back or whatever ails you) come the end of a stressful day. Why, oh why would you want to add to the stress now, and never get a chance to bring the level of ugly down at some point in your day? When do you get a respite? When does your mind get to breathe? When do you let your soul expand its breath unselfconsciously, and without guilt (aye, there is the rub! It gets tricky here)?
Well, what about at night then??
But why, oh why in (insert god')s name would you want to watch and hear of something absolutely hideous as a way to "ease off the stresses of the day" (and of life!) in time to relax and drift off feeling safe in the knowledge that you may have another sleep coming your way to recuperate your cells and your body. Why in god's name would you want to drink sour milk to put you to sleep? If its to trip off of stress responses in the messed up sleep cycle, go for it! To each his insomniatic own, but I prefer to give myself a fighting chance at finding peace, even for a moment to fool myself into thinking that...at some point, in some part of the world, perhaps far away, perhaps close, perhaps around the corner, down the block, in my bed...there lies a little bit of hope and of peace to remind me that there is good in the world.
I like to believe this when I wake up, when I come home after stress, when I ready for bed. I need to.
Naked
to read my bloggery is to see me standing naked
in the rain...
with a pistol in my hand
and a lopsided grin
from beneath
my little crooked hat
Naked as an acid rain
naked as I've ever been
in the rain...
with a pistol in my hand
and a lopsided grin
from beneath
my little crooked hat
Naked as an acid rain
naked as I've ever been
Saturday, October 15, 2011
"How Blogworthy?" (aka How Personal is this going to be?)
that is the question. You know things get bad when upon thinking of say, things like *work* your left eye suddenly twitches, like Inspector Clouseau's superintendent (so hell bent on the demise of Clouseaou to end his own misery and suffering).
I had to consider which blog to use today, today, and in general. The one fit for public consumption (only a selected, special *few* of said public, but still..) or the Ugly Cry one, where I usually dump a barrage of bad feeling and 'the pains of the world' onto (the purging one). sigh.
I want to write a Vicious Blogging and be clever and rapier-witted as before. BUT everytime I ponder on writing- anything- I get blocked, and can't remember what it was that was so darned clever that I simply HAD to sit and write about before it left the building. Well, shit. Most ideas that *almost* inspire me to finally squawk on, leave the building. In fact, all this fresh tripe is the stuff of ad-libbing. Yep, I'm fresh out of clever.
Ok: Initial thoughts or stirrings that bothered me enough to ponder (gulp) writing. Here they are in order of popping into meh head:
1) Well, I feel a little ripped off. In the love dept, I have excelled. In the reciprocation dept, there has been substantial "room for improvement" and emotionally things have been "challenging"(translated to politically incorrect speak): being a loving person has sucked ass when I have picked people who neither see me nor appreciate me enough to love me as I deserve (that's right- I said it!) DESERVE to be loved. It sucks balls. It's a fucking bummer. It's not helping me NOT feel old, unattractive, and out of shape. I have these thoughts all fine by myself, thankyouverymuch. These stumbles have only contributed to (or reiterated said negative thoughts). And I don't need that shit.
sigh. I know that I am tired and stressed out. and when I am these two things together (what a doozy!), I get bummed. Today is such an instance. It will pass, but today it has felt like a weight on my chest and I have been shrugging off the exhaustion and anxiety like last season's lime green poncho (get it offa me!). Yes, things feel worse than they are in actuality. PERHAPS. Still I am allowed my glorious gripe. I hope that by having it, I will be able to lose it.
2) I wanted a job where I could find beauty, where I would (hopefully) have some autonomy, where I actually looked forward to coming to work. Well, by Job I've got it! and ...and ...fuckin..AND I am stressed out of my fecking tree! Not to say I'm ot grateful for the job, a decent job, a job that I like (yay*), a job that has pretty view (which is does), a lot of positives here - BUT. It feels overwhelming sometimes, where I AM the whole band, I AM U2! I play all the instruments and do the post-production AND then write a critique about it! holy feck! so, yeah.. It's got me in a bit of a tizzy. :P and I need to handle stress WAAAY better, before it does me in. Goddess, give me strength and wisdom and focus and patience and fortitude to deal with the demands and still be gracious and charming, handle the stress well, and keep my lovely little job (and for a long time, I hope).
It feels a bit like a weird game I play. "How much shit can I take before I stress myself right out and let everything affect me and make me sick again? let's see..."
well, I dont want to play that game. It is dangerous and NON-productive nor helpful. It is self-perpetuating, and can be a losing one. I have to change it into dodgeball or something else real quickly! Want to master it, not make it into Master and Servant (and me on the suffering bottom).
3) ah, Mom. Love her, she means well but she (and living here with her) remind me of the Life I aim to carve...which I have yet to have. Living with mom, we are so incompatible, it could be a sitcom. A passive-aggressive dramedy about an irritable, resentful adult daughter and her foibles with a cantankerous, ill-mannered child who either nags or gets into a hissy fit over any eyebrow raised at the wrong angle. Maybe I should call it, "And Then There's Angie", or "Goddess Help Us", with a catchy little tune like that of "and then there's Maude!"
4) Then there's this: What Do I Want. I mean really. Not What Do I Want that I tell people, but what, at the heart of me , do I really want. It seems to change slightly year by year now. I do not know now, nor do I have a 5 year plan. I don't know if that is fear-based, or just plain lazy. sigh. It feels like I'm afraid to Plan ahead, to have hope, to make plans. It feels easier to ride the wave, go with the flow, since life (for me, at least) has certainly not played out according to the script I had 'read' or been informed on. My life has been decidedly unpredictable. Is that good? I don't know.
ie. Not sure I want the acting thing that badly. If I did, I would have pics and be seeking out an agent, etc. Maybe I don't believe I can do it, or that it can be fruitful for me at this point. I do know that I want security. In a time of chronic financial insecurity, I really crave stability and security. Blame my post-war upbringing, blame my immediate family (and their perpetual lack of it...), blame the modern jobstate. I have never KNOWN true security nor felt safe with any consistency, so I need to have this become a constant in my life. I need to BE that example I am missing.
It's important that, after 15+ yrs of struggling, and being sick then being the "well-dressed poor", that I find security in some measure. Perhaps after I have found it, befriended it, and sat with it for a while, I will be able to feel I can 'risk' again (ie. the acting thing). All I've done is risk in my life, but I need to find the other side: discipline and persistence to achieve success.
Right now, I am so drained with stress, that the Intention to have a creatively fulfilling life and the ACTUALITY of it seem at opposite sides of the spectrum. They seem incongruent. I need to find my own way to reconcile my (alleged instability, unsafe, unpredictable) 'art' with my career choices (by contrast, seemingly stable, safe, livable beyond "survival" state), until I feel I can manage both.
Also, I am wise enough to know that Happiness is fleeting. It is temporary, like everything else in life, and is found in moments. Sometimes they last for years, sometimes months, sometimes days. I can't wait intil that 'Ideal' day (or job, man, event, thing, or situation) sits prettily at my feet to claim this elusive Happiness. So I look for it every day, in something - a kind word, a sweet sight, a moving song, a good memory, a decent hug, a good cuppa coffee.
I had to consider which blog to use today, today, and in general. The one fit for public consumption (only a selected, special *few* of said public, but still..) or the Ugly Cry one, where I usually dump a barrage of bad feeling and 'the pains of the world' onto (the purging one). sigh.
I want to write a Vicious Blogging and be clever and rapier-witted as before. BUT everytime I ponder on writing- anything- I get blocked, and can't remember what it was that was so darned clever that I simply HAD to sit and write about before it left the building. Well, shit. Most ideas that *almost* inspire me to finally squawk on, leave the building. In fact, all this fresh tripe is the stuff of ad-libbing. Yep, I'm fresh out of clever.
Ok: Initial thoughts or stirrings that bothered me enough to ponder (gulp) writing. Here they are in order of popping into meh head:
1) Well, I feel a little ripped off. In the love dept, I have excelled. In the reciprocation dept, there has been substantial "room for improvement" and emotionally things have been "challenging"(translated to politically incorrect speak): being a loving person has sucked ass when I have picked people who neither see me nor appreciate me enough to love me as I deserve (that's right- I said it!) DESERVE to be loved. It sucks balls. It's a fucking bummer. It's not helping me NOT feel old, unattractive, and out of shape. I have these thoughts all fine by myself, thankyouverymuch. These stumbles have only contributed to (or reiterated said negative thoughts). And I don't need that shit.
sigh. I know that I am tired and stressed out. and when I am these two things together (what a doozy!), I get bummed. Today is such an instance. It will pass, but today it has felt like a weight on my chest and I have been shrugging off the exhaustion and anxiety like last season's lime green poncho (get it offa me!). Yes, things feel worse than they are in actuality. PERHAPS. Still I am allowed my glorious gripe. I hope that by having it, I will be able to lose it.
2) I wanted a job where I could find beauty, where I would (hopefully) have some autonomy, where I actually looked forward to coming to work. Well, by Job I've got it! and ...and ...fuckin..AND I am stressed out of my fecking tree! Not to say I'm ot grateful for the job, a decent job, a job that I like (yay*), a job that has pretty view (which is does), a lot of positives here - BUT. It feels overwhelming sometimes, where I AM the whole band, I AM U2! I play all the instruments and do the post-production AND then write a critique about it! holy feck! so, yeah.. It's got me in a bit of a tizzy. :P and I need to handle stress WAAAY better, before it does me in. Goddess, give me strength and wisdom and focus and patience and fortitude to deal with the demands and still be gracious and charming, handle the stress well, and keep my lovely little job (and for a long time, I hope).
It feels a bit like a weird game I play. "How much shit can I take before I stress myself right out and let everything affect me and make me sick again? let's see..."
well, I dont want to play that game. It is dangerous and NON-productive nor helpful. It is self-perpetuating, and can be a losing one. I have to change it into dodgeball or something else real quickly! Want to master it, not make it into Master and Servant (and me on the suffering bottom).
3) ah, Mom. Love her, she means well but she (and living here with her) remind me of the Life I aim to carve...which I have yet to have. Living with mom, we are so incompatible, it could be a sitcom. A passive-aggressive dramedy about an irritable, resentful adult daughter and her foibles with a cantankerous, ill-mannered child who either nags or gets into a hissy fit over any eyebrow raised at the wrong angle. Maybe I should call it, "And Then There's Angie", or "Goddess Help Us", with a catchy little tune like that of "and then there's Maude!"
4) Then there's this: What Do I Want. I mean really. Not What Do I Want that I tell people, but what, at the heart of me , do I really want. It seems to change slightly year by year now. I do not know now, nor do I have a 5 year plan. I don't know if that is fear-based, or just plain lazy. sigh. It feels like I'm afraid to Plan ahead, to have hope, to make plans. It feels easier to ride the wave, go with the flow, since life (for me, at least) has certainly not played out according to the script I had 'read' or been informed on. My life has been decidedly unpredictable. Is that good? I don't know.
ie. Not sure I want the acting thing that badly. If I did, I would have pics and be seeking out an agent, etc. Maybe I don't believe I can do it, or that it can be fruitful for me at this point. I do know that I want security. In a time of chronic financial insecurity, I really crave stability and security. Blame my post-war upbringing, blame my immediate family (and their perpetual lack of it...), blame the modern jobstate. I have never KNOWN true security nor felt safe with any consistency, so I need to have this become a constant in my life. I need to BE that example I am missing.
It's important that, after 15+ yrs of struggling, and being sick then being the "well-dressed poor", that I find security in some measure. Perhaps after I have found it, befriended it, and sat with it for a while, I will be able to feel I can 'risk' again (ie. the acting thing). All I've done is risk in my life, but I need to find the other side: discipline and persistence to achieve success.
Right now, I am so drained with stress, that the Intention to have a creatively fulfilling life and the ACTUALITY of it seem at opposite sides of the spectrum. They seem incongruent. I need to find my own way to reconcile my (alleged instability, unsafe, unpredictable) 'art' with my career choices (by contrast, seemingly stable, safe, livable beyond "survival" state), until I feel I can manage both.
Also, I am wise enough to know that Happiness is fleeting. It is temporary, like everything else in life, and is found in moments. Sometimes they last for years, sometimes months, sometimes days. I can't wait intil that 'Ideal' day (or job, man, event, thing, or situation) sits prettily at my feet to claim this elusive Happiness. So I look for it every day, in something - a kind word, a sweet sight, a moving song, a good memory, a decent hug, a good cuppa coffee.
On that note, if I don't find romantic 'love' this year, so be it. I know that I will HAVE loved others three-fold, and made the world a better place. Instead of spite or other nasty things, the best un-revenge will be to stay Shiny, to emit light and love, to be gracious in spite of the ugly, or the pain. I'm not advocating being a martyr, just to ride the wave and master the consequences of change, so you can own your power again. Wrestling my demons is private, smiling like the conquistador who ate the demon is public.
I'm flawed as hell but I'm a good person with a planet of offerings. I have to remember to not give it all away, without leaving the big Love for ME.
and with this thought, I bid adieu.
I'm flawed as hell but I'm a good person with a planet of offerings. I have to remember to not give it all away, without leaving the big Love for ME.
and with this thought, I bid adieu.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Things That Are Annoying
in no particular order:
8) when people who are grumpy and indifferent or plain nasty to you and your very essence suddenly become Mother Teresa and rally to your couchside the minute you feign having a cold or other malaise. What gives? How come they turn suddenly kind and so concerned for your welfare all of a sudden?? weird and inconsistent behaviour. Worse yet, is anticipating that the minute you feel 'yourself again', god help you! The twiddle-dees are going to be right back at it, gnashing their sharp little teeth around your face and snarling "why isn't that [whatever] ready yet??". Ahh, just like Old Times.
4) when an Audiobook Application on iPhone uses a damn robotic voice akin to Cher's irritating vocals in that overrated and shitty song "Believe in Love after Luff.." (or Life after Love?? or Love after Life?? or whatever the fuck it was). Less Big Brother-y and creepy than the automated bus robot voice, complete with weird monotone with incorrect inflections that 'reads' out what your next stop will be. It is irksome. It is disconcerting. It makes me want to close the book on my Audio (non) book! Completely unintelligible and annoying as shite! "What? What is it saying?? What? Whaaat!" OY fuckity Oy.
51) telemarketers who - assuming my Spanish surname is inevitably, and invariably connected to a god-fearing Catholic Spanish-Canadian citizen - call up during bad reality tv, interrupting certain bliss to ask questions that are blatantly churchy in aim. "Listen, Maria Rodrigues, Golanzes, Dolores, del Pies. I was sidled with 4 names too, but don't assume I'm a traditional fresh-off-the-boat Bible-clutcher! I'm also part French & Irish and you don't see their reps giving me unsolicited calls to inquire about my politico-spiritual leanings, do ya? Well, here's my Irish part (said with accent, for effect), Feck off!"
Don't they know Brett Micheals' "Rock of Love" is on?!" Come ON! Is nothing Sacred?
8) when people who are grumpy and indifferent or plain nasty to you and your very essence suddenly become Mother Teresa and rally to your couchside the minute you feign having a cold or other malaise. What gives? How come they turn suddenly kind and so concerned for your welfare all of a sudden?? weird and inconsistent behaviour. Worse yet, is anticipating that the minute you feel 'yourself again', god help you! The twiddle-dees are going to be right back at it, gnashing their sharp little teeth around your face and snarling "why isn't that [whatever] ready yet??". Ahh, just like Old Times.
4) when an Audiobook Application on iPhone uses a damn robotic voice akin to Cher's irritating vocals in that overrated and shitty song "Believe in Love after Luff.." (or Life after Love?? or Love after Life?? or whatever the fuck it was). Less Big Brother-y and creepy than the automated bus robot voice, complete with weird monotone with incorrect inflections that 'reads' out what your next stop will be. It is irksome. It is disconcerting. It makes me want to close the book on my Audio (non) book! Completely unintelligible and annoying as shite! "What? What is it saying?? What? Whaaat!" OY fuckity Oy.
51) telemarketers who - assuming my Spanish surname is inevitably, and invariably connected to a god-fearing Catholic Spanish-Canadian citizen - call up during bad reality tv, interrupting certain bliss to ask questions that are blatantly churchy in aim. "Listen, Maria Rodrigues, Golanzes, Dolores, del Pies. I was sidled with 4 names too, but don't assume I'm a traditional fresh-off-the-boat Bible-clutcher! I'm also part French & Irish and you don't see their reps giving me unsolicited calls to inquire about my politico-spiritual leanings, do ya? Well, here's my Irish part (said with accent, for effect), Feck off!"
Don't they know Brett Micheals' "Rock of Love" is on?!" Come ON! Is nothing Sacred?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, November 04, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
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..)
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..)
Friday, August 06, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
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!
*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!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
"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.
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.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Fish Tank fun...
"it's the gift that keeps on giving!" haha
I could not help note the paradoxical absurdity (and unintended hilarity...) of this entry. A fellow POF'er notes in his profile, how he does not want these things:
A few specific things:
- no smokers
- not into crazy party animals
- if you wear lots of make up and fashion accessories I'm probably not your type
- if you spend your weekends shopping..
- if you don't care about the environment..
- if you're only looking for riches..
- if you're addicted to soap operas and game shows..
- if you drive a hummer..
- if you sleep around..
- if you can't live without constant attention..
- also, I'm not a big dog-lover
but if you read the above section of Interests, he notes; he is open to "different perspectives".
HA! apparently not! someone who he considers a person who 'sleeps around' may well have a different perspective (and justifiable reasons for doing what she does, I would argue/devil's advocate..), as would someone who does not 'care for the environment', or 'is looking for riches', and so on. These are all "different perspectives" but I get the feeling our friend here is "open" to others perps. providing they are ONLY THE KIND THAT ARE IN LINE WITH HIS - in other words, his own perspective. (Aint we all guilty of that! but at least I don't bullshit myself or others by stating that "I'm open to opinions that are unlike my own". oh puleeze bitch! I know my opinions are the 'right ones'. Always. cough*cough*sputter])
I think Elton John said it best when he sang, "It's a little bit funny...".
just sayin'.
I could not help note the paradoxical absurdity (and unintended hilarity...) of this entry. A fellow POF'er notes in his profile, how he does not want these things:
A few specific things:
- no smokers
- not into crazy party animals
- if you wear lots of make up and fashion accessories I'm probably not your type
- if you spend your weekends shopping..
- if you don't care about the environment..
- if you're only looking for riches..
- if you're addicted to soap operas and game shows..
- if you drive a hummer..
- if you sleep around..
- if you can't live without constant attention..
- also, I'm not a big dog-lover
but if you read the above section of Interests, he notes; he is open to "different perspectives".
HA! apparently not! someone who he considers a person who 'sleeps around' may well have a different perspective (and justifiable reasons for doing what she does, I would argue/devil's advocate..), as would someone who does not 'care for the environment', or 'is looking for riches', and so on. These are all "different perspectives" but I get the feeling our friend here is "open" to others perps. providing they are ONLY THE KIND THAT ARE IN LINE WITH HIS - in other words, his own perspective. (Aint we all guilty of that! but at least I don't bullshit myself or others by stating that "I'm open to opinions that are unlike my own". oh puleeze bitch! I know my opinions are the 'right ones'. Always. cough*cough*sputter])
I think Elton John said it best when he sang, "It's a little bit funny...".
just sayin'.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Fish Tank feedback...
from dating profile. Wow! it's nice to know you are appreciated (good for the ole ego too)!
Keep shining your light, Sister!
It's comforting to know there are free thinkers like you keeping tabs on things around here!!
You have a great profile and it was a fun read!!!!...thanks for givin me a smile!!!!!
I started to post your pictures around my bedroom on the ceiling ... so when I lie down in bed you're the last thing I see before I sleep.....
shall I just keep calling you my frosted little pop tart...I am starting to think you enjoy that...and I find myself liking it. ;)
I just wanted to say that you have one of the better profiles out there...the truth about investing in Self is the best advice anyone can take.
You sound like a great person. Just look at this as..."A character building experience."
I'm pleased you wrote about investing some time.
I found your profile intriguing and I love mysteries.
You are very clever, reading your profile made me laugh. I hope you are a writer so everyone can benefit from your wit.
Maybe I can sink my fangs into you before you run off with one of these other less deserving blokes.
Looking at your costume picture makes me immediately think of the band Melt-Banana (Japanese Punk).
I don't mean to sound cheesy but you seem like a person worth being nice to.
If you are looking for a dance partner, look no further.
Just wanted to say thanks for the honesty about the "possible" in your life. And just wanted to say, you "stay gold ponyboy", stay gold, one of the absolute best books ever written...take care
Can I be brutally honest? I get the sense that you're a whole lot o' fun.
All the girl here chew tabacco, and spit, there all rednecks!!!lol wish I could find a dress up one, that makes me weak, and so ho*ny!!lol
You seem to write with great character and it is most likely an indication of yourself..Compliment intended.
A+ for make me smile!!!
Your profile is a great read. Nice Ratzo reference...
(sent me a 'teddy bear' as gift) Instead of the old glass slipper approach, try this BEAR, if it fits, then youre my Princess!
You sound intelligent and like cool music, That definitely appeals to me.
You are an interesting woman with an interesting profile!
I certainly WISH I could have some of your burnt toast
you look fantastic in your photo playing dress up...i really really like that look
just love your sense of humour
loved your bio very well written
I'd like to hear your blog, rants and perspective.
How sweet you truly are. What a wonderful little package you are (but not circus midget little, so that's fine ;p). A local girl with beautiful lips and big,lovely, brown doe eyes!
Lets fly to paris for some " moulle et frites" on our first date.
Unlike most I've read, I love the fact that you've put some sincere thought and effort into your profile. The opening paragraph is killer!
your interests are just so great that i wanted send you a message:)
If you're into outdoor fun I can swing some wildplay.com passes
Someone could define your rant as pesimistic and and cynical. However I see it as intelligent with a hint of sarcasm. I would love to read your blog. That would be a hoot.
I read your whole profile...you should be a writer!
I thought I'd say hello again since you look and sound like such a nice woman.
There aren't many people like you though
that outfit is unreal. hot, seriously
Let me know if you want to meet. We could climb a tree by the water and sit and feel the breeze. :)
thanks for givin me a smile!!!!!
Keep shining your light, Sister!
It's comforting to know there are free thinkers like you keeping tabs on things around here!!
You have a great profile and it was a fun read!!!!...thanks for givin me a smile!!!!!
I started to post your pictures around my bedroom on the ceiling ... so when I lie down in bed you're the last thing I see before I sleep.....
shall I just keep calling you my frosted little pop tart...I am starting to think you enjoy that...and I find myself liking it. ;)
I just wanted to say that you have one of the better profiles out there...the truth about investing in Self is the best advice anyone can take.
You sound like a great person. Just look at this as..."A character building experience."
I'm pleased you wrote about investing some time.
I found your profile intriguing and I love mysteries.
You are very clever, reading your profile made me laugh. I hope you are a writer so everyone can benefit from your wit.
Maybe I can sink my fangs into you before you run off with one of these other less deserving blokes.
Looking at your costume picture makes me immediately think of the band Melt-Banana (Japanese Punk).
I don't mean to sound cheesy but you seem like a person worth being nice to.
If you are looking for a dance partner, look no further.
Just wanted to say thanks for the honesty about the "possible" in your life. And just wanted to say, you "stay gold ponyboy", stay gold, one of the absolute best books ever written...take care
Can I be brutally honest? I get the sense that you're a whole lot o' fun.
All the girl here chew tabacco, and spit, there all rednecks!!!lol wish I could find a dress up one, that makes me weak, and so ho*ny!!lol
You seem to write with great character and it is most likely an indication of yourself..Compliment intended.
A+ for make me smile!!!
Your profile is a great read. Nice Ratzo reference...
(sent me a 'teddy bear' as gift) Instead of the old glass slipper approach, try this BEAR, if it fits, then youre my Princess!
You sound intelligent and like cool music, That definitely appeals to me.
You are an interesting woman with an interesting profile!
I certainly WISH I could have some of your burnt toast
you look fantastic in your photo playing dress up...i really really like that look
just love your sense of humour
loved your bio very well written
I'd like to hear your blog, rants and perspective.
How sweet you truly are. What a wonderful little package you are (but not circus midget little, so that's fine ;p). A local girl with beautiful lips and big,lovely, brown doe eyes!
Lets fly to paris for some " moulle et frites" on our first date.
Unlike most I've read, I love the fact that you've put some sincere thought and effort into your profile. The opening paragraph is killer!
your interests are just so great that i wanted send you a message:)
If you're into outdoor fun I can swing some wildplay.com passes
Someone could define your rant as pesimistic and and cynical. However I see it as intelligent with a hint of sarcasm. I would love to read your blog. That would be a hoot.
I read your whole profile...you should be a writer!
I thought I'd say hello again since you look and sound like such a nice woman.
There aren't many people like you though
that outfit is unreal. hot, seriously
Let me know if you want to meet. We could climb a tree by the water and sit and feel the breeze. :)
thanks for givin me a smile!!!!!
Friday, May 07, 2010
the nicest compliment this week...!
"I hope you are a writer so everyone can benefit from your wit."
thanks. that put a smile on my heart.
(Source: Plenty of Fish profile reader and note writer.)
thanks. that put a smile on my heart.
(Source: Plenty of Fish profile reader and note writer.)
Friday, April 23, 2010
"If lovin' you is wrong, I don't wanna be right"
ok, my beef today is with the blessed concept (grossly misutilized term, to be more accurate) of being "Real". Capital R for a Reason, here.I'm watching yet another Reality show (problematic in its own right, I realize! but onwards...), with the morbid curiousity in me awakened anew. At least two people per half hour in any random Reality shoo define themselves as being Real. One yells it out antagonistically at another person, "Hey, I'm just being real! If you can't handle it, it aint my problem!" Another one spouts something about "I'm just keeping it real"..while backing away from committing to any true opinion for herself, instead preaching a cliche to stand in as a Postcard version of the truth unspoken.
What probes my irritated bowel is that using this term is like a free pass to be a royal bitch, or a mean person, or be brutally blunt and go around slinging shit in the airwaves, not worried about where it will land, as long as it's instrumental in hurting people's feelings somehow. It's hypocritical as hell too, a bit like saying, "I'm not one to pass judgement..BUT..." before lunging into a REALLY judgemental diatribe. Uh-huh.. riiiiight. So being Real is about being rude, insensitive, not relegating yourself to using communication skills (you know, Big Girl words) or investing in a little self-knowledge ("Gee. Am I being an unreasonable, insecure person?"), choosing instead to yell or intimidate others, parading around like a giant angry cock swinging at anything standing in its way. "Look out- you're gonna get swiped!"
In that case, let me remain here UN-real in my NeverNeverland of niceness and spare others my Realness. Real, you say? more like really crass, really selfish, really offensive, really petty, and really desperate for any semblance of power*. (*Interestingly, power-trippy types tend to throw this coy little term around like salt on hot, buttery corn).
I propose that what this Really reflects is a national pathology of misguided hostility (ie. road-rage, anyone?) and pedestrian, equestrian (?!), misconceptions about Strength and Power, which can manifest as mismanaged anger (ie. the kind little kids use when they spit at other little kids in the playground), and not healthy aggression (ie. the kind adults use to win the race, or to sue each other's asses, diplomatically). To use aggression correctly is to be able to identify the problem, its true source, how it affects you, and where to direct it to achieve resolution. This is very different than getting all tangled up in the helplessness and frustration of (unidentified) anger. To harness aggression is to make the best of this energy, to propel action and resolution through Righteous Rage, applying this force beyond the means of "survival" (ie. caveman days), and leveraging it towards creativity, passion, drive and other juicy, generally productive things! Being "Real" just don't cut it when it gives license to spout shit outward while remaining ignorant of one's insecurities, and pathologies, etc.
Welcome to the Un-Cola kids - thanks to the boob tube - the facade, the Un-real is being marketed, paraded, and sold to us like it was fresh lemonade on a hot day in July. "This is the new Cool!"
Don't buy it, and don't drink it. This kind of Real don't mean much relative to the origins of the word "real", you know the one with NO capital "R".
werd.
Monday, April 05, 2010
From the Dept. of "Give Me a F* Break"
"Nothing is wrong with you. This is only a dress rehearsal, life is only a test."
It is when everything down to laziness is pathologized. "He's not being an asshole, he has attention-deficit-cheap-bastard syndrome or ADCBS!" It's good to bring attention and awareness to real problems (ie. learning disabilities) but if every time a guy cheats on his wife someone turns around covering him with a shroud of dysfunction ("he is a Sexa-holic") I have to throw my hands up (well, more like throw up..a little bit...in my mouth. but I digress) and ask the gods, "What the fuck?" (rhetorical. still my favourite kind of question). Tiger Woods, or Edwards, or Jesse James (and whoever else is the flavour of the Cheater's Month) is now attending oh-shit-they-caught-my-ass-and-now-I-have-to-do-damage-control-by-prenteding-to-go-to REHAB! (or OSTCMAANIHTDDCBPTGTR). oi to the fucken vey. (as my proverbially extended eyelashes flutter like an exotic bird's for dramatic...em-pha-SIS.)
anyhoo. today I received an unrelated (and belated response) from an ex-date in which he asked if I liked his "new profile". He is possibly trying to 'chum' me up. Yes, well I liked your old one, enough to go out with you. Um, now after rudely rejecting me you are asking if I like the new one...FOR ATTRACTING OTHER PEOPLE, other than me. To that I have to say, "Are you dead inside?". Oh, but no. That is too harsh. Let me guess. It is not this person's fault. He is merely suffering from "I can't believe-the-world-doesn't-revolve-around-my-dick syndrome", or ICBTWDRAMDS.
Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do. The same goes for every time I sit on my ass feeling sorry for myself (instead of productively blogging! :) I am merely a victim of Pathetico-misinformio-misis-POF syndrome*. (*acquired from the POF dating site). Puleeze. Buy some fucken Accountability. I'll have my accountant draw up some charts for you.
ha well, I needed a larff. Might as well get a cheap one here.
It is when everything down to laziness is pathologized. "He's not being an asshole, he has attention-deficit-cheap-bastard syndrome or ADCBS!" It's good to bring attention and awareness to real problems (ie. learning disabilities) but if every time a guy cheats on his wife someone turns around covering him with a shroud of dysfunction ("he is a Sexa-holic") I have to throw my hands up (well, more like throw up..a little bit...in my mouth. but I digress) and ask the gods, "What the fuck?" (rhetorical. still my favourite kind of question). Tiger Woods, or Edwards, or Jesse James (and whoever else is the flavour of the Cheater's Month) is now attending oh-shit-they-caught-my-ass-and-now-I-have-to-do-damage-control-by-prenteding-to-go-to REHAB! (or OSTCMAANIHTDDCBPTGTR). oi to the fucken vey. (as my proverbially extended eyelashes flutter like an exotic bird's for dramatic...em-pha-SIS.)
anyhoo. today I received an unrelated (and belated response) from an ex-date in which he asked if I liked his "new profile". He is possibly trying to 'chum' me up. Yes, well I liked your old one, enough to go out with you. Um, now after rudely rejecting me you are asking if I like the new one...FOR ATTRACTING OTHER PEOPLE, other than me. To that I have to say, "Are you dead inside?". Oh, but no. That is too harsh. Let me guess. It is not this person's fault. He is merely suffering from "I can't believe-the-world-doesn't-revolve-around-my-dick syndrome", or ICBTWDRAMDS.
Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do. The same goes for every time I sit on my ass feeling sorry for myself (instead of productively blogging! :) I am merely a victim of Pathetico-misinformio-misis-POF syndrome*. (*acquired from the POF dating site). Puleeze. Buy some fucken Accountability. I'll have my accountant draw up some charts for you.
ha well, I needed a larff. Might as well get a cheap one here.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
ponderances...
does what feels like shit now (having people 'close doors' on me, while I try to remain open, and friendly, receptive to new friendships and more, protecting and honing the old ones, etc.) going to turn into 'dodging' a bullet of sorts later, I wonder?
Am I being spared certain pains for later, or certain wrong roads to have taken - had these um, tenuous relationships-in-the-make evolved to any fruition?
Makes me wonder. What are the Significators here? Is there a grand significance to underscore these incidents? How do these facts of significance tie in relationship to who I am, where I want to go, and / or who I am meant to be?
also, alternately, makes me ponder if I am looking for a way to lessen the pain and irrationality, randomness, and the feeling of helplessness and frustration from it all...or if I am being insightful on deeper levels.
methinks, as usual, both. I am a Libra.
I have seen the face of Uranus, my Venus is rising, as is my Ire.
what to do with such Ire rising? ;)
more to ponder: how to use It to best advantage, how to move forward, how to become stronger from it, and through it.
Am I being spared certain pains for later, or certain wrong roads to have taken - had these um, tenuous relationships-in-the-make evolved to any fruition?
Makes me wonder. What are the Significators here? Is there a grand significance to underscore these incidents? How do these facts of significance tie in relationship to who I am, where I want to go, and / or who I am meant to be?
also, alternately, makes me ponder if I am looking for a way to lessen the pain and irrationality, randomness, and the feeling of helplessness and frustration from it all...or if I am being insightful on deeper levels.
methinks, as usual, both. I am a Libra.
I have seen the face of Uranus, my Venus is rising, as is my Ire.
what to do with such Ire rising? ;)
more to ponder: how to use It to best advantage, how to move forward, how to become stronger from it, and through it.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Incommunicado: the New Age of Dating?
I think the social experiment has gone horribly awry.
My attempt at 'dating' online (that is, starting there to end in actual life) has been disillusioning at best, and depressing at worst. Actually the "best" and "worst" lines are no longer that far from one another, nor even mutually exclusive!
Thus far, I have made efforts and connections (hard won, harder found) and conscientiously entered into each connection with openness, energy and enthusiasm as, apparently, have my cohorts (in the beginning anyway). Men are terribly interested in learning about me! They read my profile, they write I am pretty, amusing, clever, bad, sexy, kooky, Other; they want more pictures; they want a link to my blog (ha), they want to know if I am on Facebook; they mail me letters, await mine in return, put in efforts in clever replies, (as do I), they want to chat, or phone, or just get to the coffee thing. It's all positive, fun, respectful and seems like a great cosmic, kismetic, momentum-building exercise in hope. (No one is admitting how goal-oriented this exercise is, but that is ok!). It all seems so promising!
Then they meet me in person. (or...worse, in one particularly notorious incidence of abuses against my heart). The world continues to spin on its axis but something has drastically shifted in the inner cosmos.
To the onlooker, the date seems to go fine, my daters are chatty, animated, clever, attractive. But post-meeting they stop writing almost immediately. They are 'offline' in the chatter programs, yet start to openly peruse through the dating site (online) there. In short, they drop the ball. I am in the courtyard alone, still hoping to get another go at the game, still looking to kick it around a bit. Now there is a sudden sharp pain, a Craw in my (proverbial) side.
This Craw is: Why would prospective daters unceremoniously and absolutely 'drop the ball' like that? Well, I have a theory (or two):
A) because there is always Plenty of Fish, always another bus coming around the corner, always someone else who might be prettier, more clever, younger, sexier, richer, slimmer, taller, smokier, dirtier, cooler, sportier, blonder, artier, cleaner, different. There is always someone "better" out there. "This one's not exactly what I had in mind.." (loin? mind?) so they throw the fish back in, and keep looking elsewhere. Nary a moment exists for a thought that maybe, just maybe that Perfect Little Gal, that Dreamgirl who has it ALL (at immediate glance) is a myth: she may be gorgeous, you may have amazing 'chemistry' right off the bat, but that same chemistry may not hold if there is nothing else of substance to keep things interesting later. That hot girl you want to screw (supposedly "assessed in the first 3 seconds of the date..") well, you may be looking at your next Ex-girlfriend.
B) the Chemistry misnomer. Is this the only way to locate a prospective Love? by looking for Chemisty (read = heat) right away? Am I missing something here, because that sounds and looks an awful lot not like looking for love, but looking for Lust and settling for lust! hey, I like lust! Lust is good. I've been down that road and it starts off great, and has a great middle and an amazing climax (o, the humour is still there, lurking) but the ending..oh-how-badly-that-can-go!! It goes downhill and picks up speed if two people have not bothered to prop up the relationship by other means. I would like to think love can be found after the second or even third date if there are other potentialities and angles to scout!
C) No one really ponders the (unpopular) patient-laboured notion of Investing something! Investing...Time for example: anyone can become attractive to us the more time we spend wth them and get to know them, engage with their personality, hear what else they've got to say, understand where they are coming from, see where they want to go, laugh at their jokes. Why do you think there are so many office romances among co-workers? Cause they see each other nearly everyday. Hello? repetition, familiarity can breed closeness and attraction! There is more to see than the first 15 seconds of "is she, or isn't she (The One)?" My goodness, what a fast-food driving, insta-date, just-add-water, spoiled, I want what I want NOW, fucked up society we are quickly becoming! Those flings that started at lust, and moved to a careless, makeshift form of 'dating' always led me to the crossroads of Getting Hurt and Asshole.
I wonder, in these seemingly-hostile, rough dating waters where people are conceived of as 'fish' (expendable, as well as being abundant) through the misconception of habitating in a big, endless ocean - does anyone really stand a fair chance? There is a finite number of fish, and the real ocean itself is very finite and fragile in its own way (being polluted, and exploited beyond maximum capacitity by greedy bastards. And yes, we can all be greedy bastards). The same 'logic' holds true for cyberspace: there are no rules, no lines, no boundaries, hence, less personal accountability. Nobody exists until you see their "icon"! It's dating in a vaccuum.
What foolish, fallible creatures we seem when we are so ready to believe in myths, rather than understanding ourselves by accessing our inner knowledge, and questioning our expectations, what's Ideal, where these ideas have COME from, etc. in order to better understand and appreciate others. How do WE appear to others in the world? What are WE bringing to the 'table'? How are WE accountable for our dating situation? How can WE improve ourselves, first and foremost? Maybe not-so-rhetorical questions we should be asking ourselves next time we plan to meet an attractive stranger that we might be projecting all sorts of shite onto.
My attempt at 'dating' online (that is, starting there to end in actual life) has been disillusioning at best, and depressing at worst. Actually the "best" and "worst" lines are no longer that far from one another, nor even mutually exclusive!
Thus far, I have made efforts and connections (hard won, harder found) and conscientiously entered into each connection with openness, energy and enthusiasm as, apparently, have my cohorts (in the beginning anyway). Men are terribly interested in learning about me! They read my profile, they write I am pretty, amusing, clever, bad, sexy, kooky, Other; they want more pictures; they want a link to my blog (ha), they want to know if I am on Facebook; they mail me letters, await mine in return, put in efforts in clever replies, (as do I), they want to chat, or phone, or just get to the coffee thing. It's all positive, fun, respectful and seems like a great cosmic, kismetic, momentum-building exercise in hope. (No one is admitting how goal-oriented this exercise is, but that is ok!). It all seems so promising!
Then they meet me in person. (or...worse, in one particularly notorious incidence of abuses against my heart). The world continues to spin on its axis but something has drastically shifted in the inner cosmos.
To the onlooker, the date seems to go fine, my daters are chatty, animated, clever, attractive. But post-meeting they stop writing almost immediately. They are 'offline' in the chatter programs, yet start to openly peruse through the dating site (online) there. In short, they drop the ball. I am in the courtyard alone, still hoping to get another go at the game, still looking to kick it around a bit. Now there is a sudden sharp pain, a Craw in my (proverbial) side.
This Craw is: Why would prospective daters unceremoniously and absolutely 'drop the ball' like that? Well, I have a theory (or two):
A) because there is always Plenty of Fish, always another bus coming around the corner, always someone else who might be prettier, more clever, younger, sexier, richer, slimmer, taller, smokier, dirtier, cooler, sportier, blonder, artier, cleaner, different. There is always someone "better" out there. "This one's not exactly what I had in mind.." (loin? mind?) so they throw the fish back in, and keep looking elsewhere. Nary a moment exists for a thought that maybe, just maybe that Perfect Little Gal, that Dreamgirl who has it ALL (at immediate glance) is a myth: she may be gorgeous, you may have amazing 'chemistry' right off the bat, but that same chemistry may not hold if there is nothing else of substance to keep things interesting later. That hot girl you want to screw (supposedly "assessed in the first 3 seconds of the date..") well, you may be looking at your next Ex-girlfriend.
B) the Chemistry misnomer. Is this the only way to locate a prospective Love? by looking for Chemisty (read = heat) right away? Am I missing something here, because that sounds and looks an awful lot not like looking for love, but looking for Lust and settling for lust! hey, I like lust! Lust is good. I've been down that road and it starts off great, and has a great middle and an amazing climax (o, the humour is still there, lurking) but the ending..oh-how-badly-that-can-go!! It goes downhill and picks up speed if two people have not bothered to prop up the relationship by other means. I would like to think love can be found after the second or even third date if there are other potentialities and angles to scout!
C) No one really ponders the (unpopular) patient-laboured notion of Investing something! Investing...Time for example: anyone can become attractive to us the more time we spend wth them and get to know them, engage with their personality, hear what else they've got to say, understand where they are coming from, see where they want to go, laugh at their jokes. Why do you think there are so many office romances among co-workers? Cause they see each other nearly everyday. Hello? repetition, familiarity can breed closeness and attraction! There is more to see than the first 15 seconds of "is she, or isn't she (The One)?" My goodness, what a fast-food driving, insta-date, just-add-water, spoiled, I want what I want NOW, fucked up society we are quickly becoming! Those flings that started at lust, and moved to a careless, makeshift form of 'dating' always led me to the crossroads of Getting Hurt and Asshole.
I wonder, in these seemingly-hostile, rough dating waters where people are conceived of as 'fish' (expendable, as well as being abundant) through the misconception of habitating in a big, endless ocean - does anyone really stand a fair chance? There is a finite number of fish, and the real ocean itself is very finite and fragile in its own way (being polluted, and exploited beyond maximum capacitity by greedy bastards. And yes, we can all be greedy bastards). The same 'logic' holds true for cyberspace: there are no rules, no lines, no boundaries, hence, less personal accountability. Nobody exists until you see their "icon"! It's dating in a vaccuum.
What foolish, fallible creatures we seem when we are so ready to believe in myths, rather than understanding ourselves by accessing our inner knowledge, and questioning our expectations, what's Ideal, where these ideas have COME from, etc. in order to better understand and appreciate others. How do WE appear to others in the world? What are WE bringing to the 'table'? How are WE accountable for our dating situation? How can WE improve ourselves, first and foremost? Maybe not-so-rhetorical questions we should be asking ourselves next time we plan to meet an attractive stranger that we might be projecting all sorts of shite onto.
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