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!

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.

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..)

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.

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!

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.

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'.

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!!!!!

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.)

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.

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.

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.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

walking contradiction

here is my blatant rip-off of the Morissette's "Hand in Pocket" whilst freeflowing poetrizin'


Seem drunk but I'm sober
I'm smart but I'm fun
Sound flat but I'm bumpy...baby

calm but I'm restless
Shy so I'm bold
nice but I'm naughty...baby

Light but a Dark horse
cute but I'm overdressed
Sweet but I'm spicy..baby!

what it all comes down to-o..
is that everybody's mostly full of shit!
I've got one hand in my pocket
and the other is flippin a ..hello!

I'm contra in diction
I'm left but I'm right
(anyone smart would know that!)
great yet SO humble!
smooth but a bumble-ler
watch as I tumble..baby!

what it all comes down to my friends, yeah
is that silence is the answer most giv-e-n
one is giving you the finger
when you hear crickets in the dark...

yep. what it all comes down to my friends, yeah-m
is that no one's got it figured out just yet
they keep putting off replying, now I'm lying in
doggie shit.


peace. out.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Where is my Elliot Garfield?

maybe Mother Fate has an ironic sense of humour...or has other things in store for me. While my social life may be thriving, whenever I get remotely interested in someone (and, it appears mutual at least!) some odd occurance sharply severs the tie just like that! Poof!! all gone. not gonna happen. I am seeing a pattern here. "Not yet! Not yet! oh, oh...oh, this one..looks like...maybe...OH-no, Not yet!!" (sucka.)

Maybe I should set my sights on something more realistic and attainable. Maybe I should focus on becoming famous this year! Why the hell not?! I've never gone for this goal, and it's about time I tried something just 'wacky' enough! haha wouldn't that be f* great?? (rhetorical question, no need to get excited about an actual 'answer').

Theoretically, if I cannot muster an interesting coffee companion in say, the next 2 weeks, I will throw caution to the wind, career-wise, do the counter-intuitive thing (which, if I really break it down, is actually the true, correct and INTUITIVE thing I have had boring a little hole in my jacket pocket near the vest [heart] all along) and go for the Gold and act my little butt off! social convention, timing, sense and reason be damned! ;)

Maybe I may even meet my own Elliot Garfield in some dark theatre hall with a silly little hat atop his head, dressed as a pirate. za-wooee! now that would be poetic.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Girls will be Boys

So I'm listening to Bowie's "Boys Keep Swinging'" walking around the mall, heavy sack of Stuff slung over one shoulder. I am looking to replace a cell phone (and an excuse to trade UP into an iPhone or Blackberry, truth be told!) and as I look around me I think: I cannot wait to gtf outta this mall. This lone thought would quash any stereotypes about girls who love going shopping or partaking in 'retail therapy'. Not me! I want to get what I need, get the cheapest version (of passable quality of course) of the Thing I need, and get OUT as quickly as possible! and there are signs all over the place, signage for everything, "water, water everywhere but not a drop to..." understand wtf they are all stating..! And all these pretty Things, and displays and clothes just keep getting in the way of seeing those signs clearly, especially the ones marked "Exit"!

I'm not antisocial- far from it- but the mall and people in it all seem to gravitate toward fallin' or leanin' on me, brushing their bags and backpacks against my personhood (!), or stepping right in front of my path exactly onto the spot I am about to step into. So I wind up doing a little waltz, half a dosey-do and curtsey about a dozen times along a single corridor. But hellz bellz, all that bouncing and cajoling, is throwing me offa my game, and I am the hunter seeking what I need- on a mission and NOT to be confounded by these so-called- Wants! Finally my mind can't handle all the collisions, shiny things, bouncing bags, and dosey-doeing making it oh-so-much-easier to mentally check-out and into a fuzzy fantasy world with bad musak where rose coloured lenses depict pretty things as not being Costly, no sir! only as investments to be MADE..."Things that will make my life BETTER-er!" There is merit to having and purchasing Things, of course. I should know, I have plenty of them! But I hate Shopping, the recreational pastime, the stereotypical hall of female bonding, or the 'retail therapy'. It aint too therapeutic cracking open your VISA bill and having stark realities squelch your eyes and squeeze your heart a might.. Therapy? I think NOT. More like Crisis Management! Collateral Intervention!

The only type of shopping I do enjoy, oddly enough is for food (go figure). In this way, my anti-shoppping stance might be labelled by some traditionalists as being more 'manly' and less 'girly', I suppose. But I shrug at that, and think "I pity the fool who thinks such stupifying, arrested and dichotomous thoughts. I pity the fool!!" (MR. T style)

I also like to fix things. Got a problem? Ask me! (mind you, my specialty is of the social or emotional kind- am I Handy in that dept!) But if all you want to go is marinate in the same old drudgery and misery and whine about the same issue you have done nothing about since the last time we 'talked* (*meaning= the last time you whined using a different angle, and different words...you clever thing, you;), then I am not interested. Tell me about a problem you are having, I will listen intently. Then I will put in my two cents of how to help you! I want to help you in earnest, especially if it sounds like a sucky time for you. Sorry, I guess I am thinking like a 'man' again! Do you really want to do something about it, or am I just a pretty sounding board? I think you are sounding bored, myself...

Another little chink in my armour, I hate being 'coy' based on some gendered expectation of 'proper' behaviour. If I like a guy I will probably want to do something about it in time. I might want to do stuff with him, or kiss him or better! :)) I don't want to play hard to get, or act aloof to get him to 'chase' me. Life is short, man and it's getting shorter after 35, so either pee or get off the pot! (god, I am feeling colloquial and colourful tonight! hoo-aahh!!) I don't want to be chased, nor chaste! Am I thinking like a man, because I want to do the same stuff that you, boy, want to do? Nope. I am thinking just like me.

I want to be authentic, and act based upon my own feelings about the world, and I know it's up to me to figure out which messages are genuinely mine, and not someone else's, that is my cross (your heart bra) to bear. I like pink and pink is only a colour, yet it is loaded with meaning based on what our culture has projected on it, via socialization, symbolism, language and institutionization. Everything is coded. What would Noam Chomsky say about the lexicon of language and our codes and their purpose and subjectivities..? that is perhaps another rant in the making..

Still, why is yellow the only supposed gender neutral colour for a baby room?? Why not make pink the new gender-neutral colour? Why not imprint and encode, re-code messages over the no-longer-relevant or less non-productive ones? I would like to think, that if I were a guy I could like pink without having to resort to justifying it as being 'salmon-coloured'. cough* cough*

As we stumble into each other at crowded malls trying to be happy, buying cool stuff to feel good, we are all mirroring one another, by embodying endless dynamic combinations of Yin/Yang, and light/dark and blood/water, male/female, the Moon the Sun--and everything in between...and it is usually IN-BETWEENS where we really 'live, if you ask me.

The bigger question begs, "why are there no f* cell phones on sale anywhere?"

Monday, February 01, 2010

"Should I stay or should I go now?"

Ahh, decisions, decisions...
the most painfully chronic has of late been the what-the-fuck-am-I-supposed-to-do-in-the-dating-world kind.

I try to live with integrity -as much as I can- when it comes time to sharing with people I like and care about. With friends I want to feel that I am really with them and honour their prescence, as I hope they do mine. I want to share of myself and also listen, through a natural ebb and flow, so to let moments 'occur'. So...why doens't this concept extend to the Dating world? do the Rules suddenly change there?

For me there is a sense of "should I feel something...or should I not"? When is it 'safe' to FEEL when one is starting to date? After all, if one is to be in the presence of someone to try and get to know them, isn't it right to be 'present' emotionally as well? To laugh when something is funny, to smile when there is something endearing, to blush when there is something blush-worthy. But Jeebus H. C. BillyBobThorntonWilder, what happens if you like a guy?? That's a NO-NO! just BADDDD news!! But why?? It confuses the shit out of me. (ok, I'm tired, I'm slinging out dirty colloquialisms. I pronounce tonight "Freeform Sweary night"!)

I feel like I am expected to be passionate one minute (or in certain scenarios), then dispassionate and emotionally 'detached' the next. Internally flicking an invisible On and Off switch just in case 'they', the TM's (Timid Men) don't want to get closer or you know, actually feel icky things..like feelings and stuff. I am to Keep Disengaged and coyly come out only IF and when there are clear and distinct indications that he is feeling positively about me. Oh. Joy. (Why don't I just go and charge the vibe batts now..)

But why is it up to TM's? Why are these men the proverbial deers-in-headlights, easily-spooked, emotionally fragile creatures, darting off into the forest at the merest whisper of feelings? How and why do THEY get to wield so much power with respect to issuing the "green light" relationship-wise? What does a 'green light' look like these days anyway?? "Hey, I could maybe fuck you again." "how R U doin" (thru the texting* medium), or "Wow, you parallel park pretty good...for a girl." Huh?? this shiz be-confu-fuddles the f*ck outta me!

It is easy to keep a cool head if one is 'not that into' the dude (no, not the Lebowski ~we loves him~), but it becomes a messy string of turns if one should actually become (gulp) innerested in a person. The Rules state I have to play hide the heart while he tries to play hide the sausage...or something like that. But the point is to hide something from the other. Thing is: I hate hiding, suck at poker, wear my fuckin heart on my sleeve most of the time, and have a hard time unplugging my Bullshit Detector. It is always ON! It is my downfall, it is my greatest ally. I Curse the Skies! (in dramatic fashion a la Charlton Heston circa first Apes movie) "Damn you, Bullshit Detector, damn you for cajoling me into being real and earnest, even when I bloody know I oughtn't be! Damn. you. to HELL..!" (and.........Scene.)

Maybe that is part of my problem. Maybe I AM too earnest. But is it really so bad to say to someone, "Hey, I like you. Do you want to hang out again?" Yet suddenly this blockade is erected, an underworld of emotional and sexual politics comes to the fore, where truths are veiled, details spun and distorted, and behaviour altered and manipulated, in order to Keep the Upper Hand! God forbid you become vulnerable, and say, "(gulp) golly, Beav, I guess kind of like you too. Ok, let's hang out." Why was this easy when I was 22? But now, are the stakes higher the higher the number..?

After a string of one-night-stands-that-looked-and-sure-sounded-like-they-were-meant-to-be-more faltered, I did the math and realized they had all died Harakiri style immediately upon me starting to Trust (aha- tsk* tsk*) that the other person may have meant what he said. Examples: "I definitely want to see you again," "no, I WILL call you," "Sure, we can hang out again.", "Let's just keep trying to connect." (And some, if I really admit it, were nowhere romantic to begin with, the post-coitus having been met with a limp-handed, grazing handshake some eye-avoidance and a mumble like "ok, 'night." WTF. Literally?)

I don't know how the hell I am supposed to be Present, or Real, or Open to feeling 'Feelings', while at the same time aiming to protect my heart so much from terrible rejection and regret. Is this not a contradiction in nature? How do you reconcile being a passionate, feeling person and keeping cool and emotionally detached in games of the heart? How can I date without engaging my heart?? Isn't that the whole POINT of the exercise? oy to the f*cken vey.

Today, I am trying to keep my uh, expectations in check, and by "in check" I mean non-existent. "Don't expect courtesy, kindness, honesty, or reciprocated admiration, or the courage to be real with you, Missy! But don't forget to act surprised IF and when they drop you a text bomb to invite you to tea!" Now, Sit up, stick your tongue out, and pant quickly! (oh, how cute! Girls are SO cute, when they deny themselves the full spectrum of the human experience! :))


These heart/head games suck because they dampen any joy, contentment, or the tiny blush that threatens to keep my mind entertained for days on 'afterward'. It sucks because somehow I must repress ANY inklings of happiness "just in case" I am to be met with horrible impending rejection. "Don't even bother feeling excited about the prospect of anything promising, gurl. Just get to a poundcake now and unplug the phone. Uhm-hum."

Honestly, the "stay or go" game is such an emotional rollercoaster, that I feel like bowing out completely, and going to projectile v. somewhere nearby. I sometimes wish my spirit DIDN'T strive for hope, truth or that elusive thing..romantic happiness! Things would be SOO much easier without the want of it! "Damn you, Spirit! Damn. You. To. Hell..!"

For me the Feeling stuff comes easy, but this despondent and detached shit- now THAT is hard.