If You Get It, You Get It

1. I love you to pieces but sometimes I think you're a lot like her. But, I gotta' say, you constantly surprise me. You always show up for me. You are forever and a day. You want to grow and that is wonderful. I didn't think it would be as good as it is...but it is.
2. You I barely have words for. Cherished SFOM I suppose (to steal your terms). Like the sibling I never had; a bit of yin and yang sometimes. Challenging as hell and I wouldn't have it any other way. I have known and will know you forever.
3. Interesting character, you. Not quite sure where you stand or where I stand. Sometimes I can't hear you at all. Sometimes I wonder if you can hear me. Or what you hear. Or what you see.
4. I hope a lot for you. I hope you are able to become the person you want to be. I hope you find relief. I hope you realize your worth. I hope you let go.
5. No offense intended, but you're there because I don't want others to be.
6. Where are you? I forget you exist sometimes; isn't that odd? I would have thought that lives would intertwine a little bit more than they do. But they don't. That's okay; it's kind of nice the way things are.
7. Oh boy. I wish you wouldn't; but you do. I can't believe it and I can't support it. But I support you. I try. What is there to say, though? I don't like having to lie. It isn't comfortable to hold back and I'm not great at halting my words.
8. What the hell happened to you? It's sad; you're sad. The balance between pity and love has shifted in a direction I'm sure you don't want it to go. But look at you. How can you repeatedly sink and fall and trip and crash? How can you not desire better? I can only do so much before I get infected and I simply can't go there.

So there they are. I love them all, despite their flaws (or maybe because of them). There are more, of course. But not in pictures easily found.

This Ain't Home

Well, here I am in Southern Cali again. It usually only happens once a year, so that isn't so bad.

It's so strange here. Or rather, I feel so strange here. When I'm driving down the freeway basking in sunlight that just doesn't scream "Christmas", I enjoy it for a little while. There's a freedom in being behind the wheel. I feel like I could go...wherever. The sun's pretty nice, too. This winter in NYC has been mild as hell, but there's nothing like wide open spaces with trees and blue sky.

But that's only for a few hours. I get sick of it pretty quickly. Oddly, I find myself with a much dirtier mouth here. It's as if I miss the grit of NY so much, I make up for it with a sailor's tongue. I can only handle so much perkiness.

There are so many teenagers here. It's like the land of silicone and teenagers. Where have all the 20/30 somethings gone? I'm not kidding. I don't think I've seen a single person my age. Granted, I was shopping (I'm soooo behind with Christmas gifties) and the mall is the denizen of the teens...but still. And no-one at all that I would be attracted to. They're all so...preppy? Or wanna-be gangsta. (Or maybe real gangsta. Who knows?)

This doesn't feel like home. I'm already so bored. I flew in last night and I've been here basically one day. It's only 6 pm and I'm ready to go to bed. There's just nothing to do. The only music venues I know are further away and not the type I'm interested in. Too "L.A.". I could go sit in a movie theatre. I could... Fuck. I really tried to think of something else to do and I couldn't think of anything. Oh holy crap, man. At least Christmas Eve and Christmas are sort of taken care of. I'm hanging out with a friend for a little bit on the 26th.... Wow.

This just really ain't home anymore.

Don't

• Don't tell me you're going to do something and then crap out.
• Don't call me back after an unpleasant phonecall and then try to hang up when the callback doesn't go your way.
• Don't try to convince me that you're calling for one reason when we both know you're calling for another.
• Don't get angry at me for your own shortcomings.
• Don't placate me.
• Don't think I don't know.
• Don't pretend you want to know what's going on in my world if you're just looking for sympathy for yourself.
• Don't treat me like I'm someone else.
• Don't throw money at me.
• Don't whine.
• Don't even attempt excuses.
• Don't think you can feed me sugar-water.

Just fucking don't.

Words From The Unconscious

A couple of weeks ago I was having some really memorable dreams. When I awoke, I had whole phrases, even whole stanzas in my head. And I remembered them. I haven't been able to expand on them yet (forseen circumstances and all) but I wanted to post them. Perhaps someone else will be inspired.

So, the first bunch of claptrap that spewed fully formed from my unconscious flotsam and jetsam:

I see a lost little girl
I see a man with no name
A boy with tears in his eyes
Rockstar seeking his fame
I see a mirror
You’re a mirror

You know you’re killing yourself
Just as sure as with a gun
The self-destructive kind of fun
You know you’re not the only one
We’re all in pain

And the second thing...well the second thing made even less sense. I suppose the best way to try and understand it is to read it with a southern accent:

That kid was so green he was suckin’ honey through a straw when I met him.

Yeah. Oy my dreams. Wish I were having them now. Wish I were sleeping now.

No More ED Body, No More ED Brain

There just wasn't a picture good enough to go with this post.

I'm kind of in awe.

Of myself.

Here's the thing: Even with all the physical, emotional, spiritual work I've done...there was a part (a big part) of me that thought I'd never get here. And even though one of my "specialties" with my clients is working with people with eating disorder and body image issues...I never thought I could love my body like I was trying to teach them to love theirs.

But something amazing happened. Sometime in the last few months, I learned to love my body. I think it even happened more rapidly than that. It's as if I finally got to the point where I was just sick and tired of hating my body.

It's so easy (and so subtle and insidious) to pick yourself apart. How many times have you looked in the mirror at yourself and narrowed your focus on to that one little part (or more than one little part) that you just can't stand. You poke it and prod it and look at it from all different angles, just sending hate-rays at your own flesh. I caught myself doing that about a month and a half ago...and I paused. I asked myself "what the hell are you doing?" It wasn't a mean or angry question. I asked it with an air of love, actually. So much the same way that I lifted myself from eating disorder by telling myself that I didn't have to believe that any more, I turned my body-hate around by changing the language I used with myself.

But that sounds so ridiculously simple! If I had heard that a year or two ago, I would have shrugged it off with a "yeah, I know I know". So what was the edge? What was the hinge? What was the button or the spark or the whatever whatever that suddenly made a difference? I wish I knew!

I think time was a huge factor. Timing and time. At the right time, and not rushed. I also think I finally hit my "what will it take" moment. I got to that point where I just wasn't willing to take it any more. All of me was ready for it.

I hope I can find a way to share this with my clients. But they have to be ready for it.

HBO Is A Mirror Too

The other day I watched this HBO special on women recovering from eating disorder. They were all staying at Renfrew, a hardcore recovery center. Whoo boy. None of the women profiled in the special were successful. You know how they do those "this is Shelly three months later" thing? All of them relapsed. All of them. They even showed one puking the very night she got released.

I could so relate.

It was a strange position to be in. I was watching the insanity--knowing it was insanity--but also knowing, somehow, that it made sense too. A mind that has never been in the obsessive loop of eating disorder must hear the gook spewing from those girls and...just...NOT relate in any way. I know it sounds wack-a-doodle. But I get it.

And even though I'm not in that "place" any more, boy was that triggering. It made me wonder if I could ever relapse. In every or any capacity. I wonder if I could ever go back to eating the way I ate long ago or to being as unhealthy as I was in so very many ways. I used to think it was impossible to return to such behavior, because now I just "know too much". But I don't know. I think there's always a chance. That does scare me. I don't ever want to be that person again. I hope that if it comes to that--if I am tempted or find myself falling into the old patterns--I hope that I will turn to my newer tools; that I will open my bag of tricks and choose something different.

Yet

I'm in love.

He makes me laugh. We can talk for hours about nothing. I feel like I've known him forever but he still surprises me almost every day. He listens to my fears and insecurities with a loving heart. He doesn't try to soothe me with platitudes; but he doesn't dismiss my anxieties either. He's supportive without being indulgent. Sometimes he pisses me off when he challenges me or holds up a loving critical mirror, but ultimately I'm appreciative.

When I see him in the morning or when I walk with him down the street, I feel I am with a man, not a boy or even a "guy". I don't have to be his teacher. He's not mine, either, but we both show each other things we never knew before. He's got some hobbies I don't enjoy, and he's not that keen on some of mine, but we have friends for that.

I love spending quiet time at home together, just curled up on the couch like an interlocking puzzle. I love going out with him, too. I'm proud to be seen with him. He introduces me to everyone, too. He wants to integrate me into his life.

Sometimes he is such a dork. But he's a dork in that cool un-self-conscious type of way that just makes me want to grab and kiss him.

We kiss a lot. We do that a lot too.

Here's the thing, though: I don't know his name. Yet. I haven't met him. Yet.

But it's not like I feel that this is a description of the person I'm looking for. I really feel like he's there. We have this connection...it already exists. We're just not in contact at the moment.

Yet.

I Hugged

I hugged Krishna Das. I hugged Krishna Das. I hugged Krishna Das.

It was a big, heart hitting, firm-armed, squeezy, long, nourishing hug.

He'll probably never know that listening to his voice those years ago was my first realization and desire for true spirituality. Not religion. Spiritual. Meaningful. Soul-feeding.

It had been a long time since I had last shed tears of joy. Walking home was like floating down the street.

Blah Blah Me Me Me

Hmm...some update-y thingies:

So my granma's out of the loony bin. I asked my mom if she was lucid and sane now and she answered "as much as she ever was". Hee.

I was blessed with a free ticket to a Krishna Das private concert. Freaking awesome. And kinda coolio that last weekend was a Guns N' Roses concert and this week it's kirtans. Neat-o.

My phone is going bonkers coo-coo cocopuffs. A couple weeks ago it erased my calendar. The other day it erased all my contact numbers. Now it is having trouble syncing at all. Mercury goes out of retrograde November 17th. November 17th.......

Surge-urge-ury is coming up. I'm excited and scared and nervous and happy and sad and curious and lots of stuff. I'm not good at asking for help and I'm going to need a lot of it. I know my friends love me and will do what they can, but I also know I'm going to have to rely on them more than I think they realize. I'm not going to be able to vacuum or do laundry or change the litter box or pack my suitcase for Christmas or anyfing. I'm afraid that I'm going to be left to my own devices too much. It's a very "alone" feeling. Not lonely exactly. Alone. That's what happens when you go through something major like this and don't have family around or a mate. Since I was teeny tiny I've always said "All by mine self". Well, I can't do this by mine self. Hardly at all. There's also this thing that because this is an elective surgery and not a "have to", I feel almost like I don't have a right to ask for help. Like, if it were open heart surgery or something I had to had to had to have, then I could ask for help. But because it is what it is and it isn't necessary for survival, then I can't.

Then there is the matter of Thanksgiving. And my lack of plans. Something always turns up, but this time it hasn't. Kind of strange. I hope I'm okay if nothing occurs. I mean, I think I will be, but I don't want to start feeling sorry for myself or something stoopidly lame like that. That whole "feeling sorry for myself" thing is boring. Bo-ring.

I've been signing a handful of new clients lately which is cool cool cool. Makes me quite aware that I need to continue doing workshops and teleclasses and such. Perhaps more frequently. Maybe while I'm recovering I'll do some planning/prep on that front. I'll have to fill my time with something, right? More than Netflix, that is.

Alrighty. Tha's that for now.

Goo Goo Grandma

This is really tough. My Grandma is in a psych ward. Her surgery a few weeks ago did not go well and her mind has somewhat snapped.

I spoke with her a couple days ago. At least this time she (sort of) knew who I was. But it was her 80th birthday, and she was complaining that she doesn't like where she is now because they only have stuff for "old people". Ain't that a kicker? But the reason I got off the phone was that she kept talking about wanting to jump out the window and die. I just can't (won't) listen to that.

If only this were unusual for her. It's just her normal personality...a little "enhanced".

Am I upset for her? For myself? For my mom? Unknown.

Working Woman...Wow!

Okay, seriously? This is lame, but I have to brag. Yes, brag. It is 11 pm on a Saturday night and I have spent the last six hours...working! For work. Like, on my computer. But not at a cafe, which is usually the case (I'm hopelessly distracted at home). I've been working! Yay me!

I know for most, this isn't such a humongous accomplishment. And, sure, I do plenty of work without the need to report it. But it's Saturday. And I hadn't planned or scheduled to work. Usually when I don't consciously set the time aside, it just don't happen.

So. Is this lame because I'm working on a Saturday night? Or is it lame because I'm so darned proud of it? Mmm...probably both. It's a little super-lame. I don't care.

Know what's not lame? I was interviewed to be written about in a book. A whole article plus a bio with contacts. That's not lame. Know what else isn't lame? I was contacted by a publishing editor to do some freelance writing for industry magazines. Also not lame.

My friends are excelling, too. I'm SO proud and happy for them. New jobs, new school, new opportunities, new ventures, new outlooks. So lovely...

It's An Update

Oh my God, two posts in one day? Is the world gonna' implode?

Yay. This is what I do when I'm sick of working and want to take a break, but don't want to leave my computer for fear I won't get motivated to return and continue chugging along.

I promised updates. Updates updates... *sigh* It's been...full lately.

I've been leading the fall cleanse this week. It has been an amazingly rewarding experience (as always) but it's also a lot of pressure. And of course I want to do it "right" and "great" and whatever whatever. But in addition to supporting all the people going through the cleanse (who can't or won't limit their support needs to the email group and have been sending personal emails and needing phone calls and such), a couple friends are going through a lot right now too. A lot a lot. Big a lot. So, many hours have been spent there too. I'm glad to be able to be there for people, I truly am. But I'm feeling quite alone right now. A few of my support structure - for various and sundry reasons - are not available to me right now. Overloaded themselves or simply absent, I'm unable to call them with my needs. Coupled with my increasing distance from my family (much needed, of course)...well, let's just say I'm very well aware that I am on my own.

I decided I needed to get back on coffee after 5 days without it. Day two sans caffeine was a BITCH. But my lightheadedness and near-blackouts came back when I was off the java. I think that the caffeine was keeping my blood pressure elevated to *normal* levels. Yay for the drug in a mug!

Good things on the career front: So many people are interested in doing the cleanse that I'm running it again in November. Plus, it's New! and Improved! Yippee. AND I have a new niche market I want to pursue. Not sure how to pursue them yet, but I'm puttin' it out there in the universe: I want to be the holistic counselor and Reiki practitioner that rock musicians turn to. I want to be called out to tour buses and have tattooed and leather-clad dudes laying on my massage table. I want to rock out at the shows and help them collect healthier snacks for backstage. How freaking AWESOME would that be? I'm puttin' it out there puttin' it out there puttin' it out there....

The weather on Halloween is supposed to be nice. Yay! Wasn't looking forward to freezing my ta-tas off. Not before slice and dice, ya?

Found myself lingering at the gym the other day. Bleah. What the fuck is up with THAT? I must like picking my own wounds, huh? No surprise I guess. Sometimes I annoy myself.

I'm also putting out in the universe that I need to find a freaking apartment!!! People are now becoming very drawn to my abode, but I can't find one that fits me. Eep! I gotsta'.

Kay, I'm not interested in writing about myself anymore. Ciao kiddies.

These Pics are a Couple Weeks Old But...

I thought I'd share. Been meaning to for awhile but have been bizzeee. Which is good. Next post will talk all 'bout that. Maybe. :)

We went a-partyin'. Yay!

Rani and I dance like freaks. We do. It's okay.

But at least we love each other...

Oh yes we do!

Like you needed more proof?

Sexy girlies! Me, Rani, and Rachel

That's more like it!

I swear to god I'm going to have T-shirts made that say "Mutual Admiration Society". It's ridonkulous.

So silly!

Kay, this is not as dirty as it looks. Oh, wait. Yes it is.

Yes, we are all laying on a bed. At "Bed". It's a New York thing. (More like a B&T thing, to tell the truth.)

Okay, this is as bad as it looks, too. Hee...

'Twas fun...

Countdown!

Countdown to slice and dice! December 5th is a mere 49 days away.

I realized I missed my own sixth month. October 11th was seven months.

Rockin.

Determined To Not Pay Up

Puttin' it in writing, puttin' it in permanence, puttin' it in public:

If I get sucked in again or involved again (and no, this ain't about the boy, this is something else ENTIRELY) then I owes ya' fifty bucks. I'm spittin' in my palm and shaking yer hand. Kay?

Chugga chugga

Whoooo-eeeee!

Dayum, I done got a fire lit under my ass.

Doin' lots of stuff, gettin' lots done. It pisses me off that the ass lit the fire, but at least the fire is lit. Then again, it's debatable whether that was the spark. I do tend to go in cycles, and most of this was set up prior to his involvement. And I do not approve of Machiavellian methods. Not in the least.

My clients are awesome. We've been having some really amazing sessions.

And now I do Reiki!!! My cooooool massage table just arrived yesterday, too. I am SO looking forward to client sessions. I think that's going to be another very satisfying venture.

I'm gonna' keep truckin', keep chuggin', keep on keepin' on.

I'm Curious...

Who lives in New Windsor, NY?

Just puttin' it out there....

Taking It Back

I came back from my Omega retreat feeling energized and empowered and lightened and enlightened and lovely and wonderful and glorious and sure. I wasn't completely whole or healed or fixed, but I was back in my power and feeling beautiful.

So of course that was attractive to him. He found it alluring and interesting. He was drawn to it like a (god forgive the trite cliche) moth to a flame. He was in awe of it, actually. Was in wonderment.

So of course he had to do everything in his power to destroy it.

So of course I let him.

Wait. I let him? I let him? I LET him?

How did that happen?

I'm taking it back. I'm taking it ALL back. Taking back my power. Taking back my energy. Taking back my glory glory glory. It is a sad sad human being who needs to destroy others to feel better about himself. He doesn't think he's cruel? Oh my god that is a laugh and a half. He's so unhappy...so fundamentally unhappy...so blind to that...so blind to his own inadequacies...so blind to himself. He claims he's driven to be a mirror for others, to hold up an honest look to others, but he's unable to see into the mirror and witness his own face.

Please remind me to let that poison be. Please remind me not to take that drug. Please remind me that I am better, so much better, than that.

I've Come To The Realization

This is a direct quote:

I've come to the realization that you are so emotionally stunted by lack of real life experience... that "what you did wrong" is entirely irrelevant. Sorry.

1. I did do nothing wrong

2. Emotionally Stunted? If that were even remotely true, the only answer for that would be "Pot? Meet Kettle."

3. How can "real life experiences", which are simply each person's different life path, be more or less than anyone else's? How can mine be not enough and someone else's be too much? I did not ask to be born into the family I was born into or to be dealt the cards I was dealt. I am supposed to be wishing to have had a harder lot in life?

4. Dismissing anything as entirely irrelevant is a cowardly move.

5. I don't for one single solitary second believe that you are sorry in any way. You yourself have laughingly, braggingly told me stories of such cruelty that I wanted to leap out of bed, horrified at your tale and the person you revealed yourself to be.

I cannot understand why I, who contain so much power and positive energy, allowed myself to be drained by you. I let it ebb away and leave me a simpering girly shell, wheedling for your attention. I am not that desperate for companionship; especially not when it is a well-disguised poison.

Things People Are Wrong About

So this one person, okay these few persons, think this other person just ain't gonna' work out. I'm not saying they're completely wrong. Maybe they're right. But the thing is, maybe they're wrong.

And this other person, a person who always likes to believe they're right about everything, thinks that I have to be right about everything. They're wrong. Choke on the irony of that one!

This other person thinks I'm too sensitive. Okay, this has some basis in fact. I'm really sensitive. Many many years I hated that. Now, however, it's an asset. So, yeah, I'm still very sensitive. But I'm only "too" sensitive when you're poking at my WOUNDS. So STOP IT. If you don't want me to be too sensitive, don't pick my primal scabs.

That's it for now.

Crazymaking

Totally and completely crazymaking. But the question is, who is the one making me crazy? Them or me?

It's About Time

The weekend was a soaring roaring success. Not healed, but healing. Not fixed, but on the road the path the route the track.

But oh my oh my are charismatic men hard to resist. I still find myself eyeing him across the room. And talking on the phone for three hours? What's that about? Do I need a cosmic slap across the face? Snap out of it!

The problem I think is that while everyone else (the people who are prescient) know (they know) that it isn't one of those "meant to be" and is in fact "meant to be WRONG"...I don't buy it. I don't! I don't believe it. I don't feel that. Maybe I do a little. Teeny tiny bit. But is it the hope I'm still clinging to or the fantasy?

On another note... My poor little lost friend. If you ever read this (which you don't) I truly truly hope you find the peace and stillness and strength and joy and sanity you seek. I wish I could help you, but I can't. And I won't. It's not fair to anyone if I do. Where did you go? Where are you headed? Are you going to fade away or self-destruct?

Love you.

Love me again, too. So that's cool.

Do I have to not love him? I do, don't I? Fuck.

At least it's right-sized now. No longer is it bearing the burden of my childhood wounds and ancient primal damages. It's just about a guy. He's just a guy.

Now on to more important things, yes?

Sigh Bye

*sigh*

Tomorrow's my B-day. My last year of twenty-something-hood. Not doin' anything. Might go to Yoga in the morning. Maybe I'll try and get work done or get my apartment "show ready". Or maybe I'll take a long bath or just sit around with my thumb up my ass.

I got a tattoo. Ohm.

I got laid. Oh my.

I got nothin'.

Still wounded...still questioning...still wondering...

I have got to got to got to got to let go of the fantasy because it ain't ain't ain't ain't ain't gonna' happen.

Weeds was good last night. Weeds is always good. Good fucking show.

See? See how lame I'm feeling right now? I'm commenting on fucking TV SHOWS! Good lord. (It was only becuase I just saw my banana peel from this morning. I will never look at a banana peel the same way. Wish I could try that out...)

Bye.

3, 2, 1...Done.

This is it, man. I am DONE. Three days ago I gave the universe three days...three days to fuck with me. Three more days to ream me up the ass. Three more days where I would respond only with a "Thank you, Sir. May I please have another?"

And now I'm done.

Got it? The universe, the universe is no longer allowed to screw around. I've been dealing with friends' meltdowns, family's health, family's death, family's feud, my heartache, my health, my career, my parents' marriage falling to shit... The hits just keep on coming. I'm so fucking tired. I don't sleep. I finally started eating again.

It's like having a bad cold. You know how when you have a cold, your throat hurts worse in the morning and worse at night, but during the middle of the day you feel kind of okay? It's like that. During the day, I'm coping pretty well. I even have fun sometimes! There are actually instances of laughter. But early in the morning, and GOD especially late at night, it's bad. Bad bad bad. I've never been one to cry myself to sleep, but fuck if I'm not crying myself to sleep. Well, that's kind of a poor description. I sob in bed until I get aaaaall tuckered out. Then I pass the fuck out.

Aren't I fun? Aren't I cute? Don't you want to hang out with this? Fucking hell.

Hey, I think I might be tapping into some anger here. That's a good thing. I could use that power.

Humpty Dumpty Sat On A Wall

Alright then.

Well, not alright then. But, yeah. Alright then.

I feel obligated to write something a little less...morose. I've been told morose doesn't suit me. I beg to differ. Bitch never saw me all gothed up. Gothed out. Gothy. Gosh.

I need to rebuild my candy-coated shell. I keep thinking of myself as a giant M&M. Seriously. This is the way my mind works. I'm a red one, thanks for asking.

Remember smit shit? Yeah. But beyond smit. And beyond shit.

I've been assured, though, that it is only by touching and accessing and experiencing those primal wounds am I accomplishing the growth and "fixing" I've been wailing about. Primal doesn't begin to encompass the feeling. My reptilian brain is seared. My organs got electrocuted and burnt to a crisp. I felt an ache all the way through to my spinal fluids. Strangely enough, although my logical mind disagrees, it wasn't an overreaction. It's the first reaction. It's the only reaction. It's the reaction I've been fighting against for years. Possibly for ever. Clyde says humans aren't cut out for this. I don't disagree...but without it, what is there?

Here's an interesting thing: Even while still holding the belief of no other and the fantasy of future, my eye is roving like a starving prostitute.

Hey, Joie? Thanks for "fat girl brain in a skinny girl body". Like so many of your sayings/songs/truths...it keeps running on a loop through my thoughts. And it actually helps.

Ladies of my life...you've been amazing. Thank you thank you. I know you're taking care of me. I'm not used to being the one that gets taken care of. It's hard to reconcile myself with myself. I know some of you have seen my weaknesses (Lisa you know them intimately) but ever since I first grew my ice castles, I like to think I'm hard as nails.

But so many of you have seen my squishiness lately. Maybe it's time to completely discard that persona, huh? Fucking hell. I liked the badass. I liked the hard crusty bitch. She served, she served. But when I'm being scraped off the sidewalk at Sidewalk I guess I can't maintain that any more. Once again a new shape.

Hmm. Perhaps not any less morose I think. But possibly less deadly.

An Update For People In the Know

I don't know.

It's painful and weird and strange and fucked up and odd right now.

I care about you too much? I don't have it in me to be responsible? I should be spending my time with someone I hate?

I've never encountered this sort of thing outside a soap opera before.

Drama drama drama.

And I REALLY don't want to talk about it so this post is in lieu of conversation, k?

If You Can't Handle Raw Thoughts Don't Fucking Read This

I can't connect my heart with my pussy.

It's already happening again! When the hanky panky first started, my body responded as it should (could would) but now that my spirit is getting involved, my tingles shut down and my juices stop flowing.

Shy? Scared? Self Conscious? Or just Conscious?

My therapist found it interesting when I said many weeks ago that I wanted to work on "sexuality" and "dating". He thought it was odd that I would separate the two as if they were not connected. But the thing is, for me they're not connected and never have been. I've only had great sex with guys I've never dated. And when I've been with someone...let's just say the sex life was never the draw.

So yeah they're separate. I don't want them to be. Some of what attracts me to someone in the first place is the chemistry. But then, I don't know, it dies. It dies! It goes to sleep and hides away and dries up and vanishes and pisses me off and pisses them off and causes anxiety and frustration and rejection and pain. This isn't what I want.

How do I keep the two connected? I think I need to attain an even greater level of authenticity. (Possible?) I feel like I keep evolving. Mutant authentic. Maybe one day I'll be see-through.

Unknown

The other uncle has cancer. Now it's in his lungs too. Monkey see monkey do.

Pops sees trains in the canal and my dad in the next room. Dementia and hallucinations and senility oh my.

Pops can't walk. Pops can't see. Pops can't be Pops.

Grandma's out of her fucking mind.

Man doesn't call when he says he will. I don't like that.

I stole my friend's one free night.

Haven't slept in days. Days and days and days.

I can't think.

But I'm a Likeable Lickable Loony

Even after being a total nutjob weirdo hormonal wacko sleep-deprived dingbat anxious goofball retarded freak!

He like likes me.

(Insert girlish "tee hee" here.)

Goofily grinning.

Smit Shit

Oh shit.

I'm in smit.

Smote. Smitted. Smited.

When was the last time I spent almost 20 hours with someone?

Primary food like keerazy. It's amazing how little sleep/food/water/anything you need when you're smitten.

Please please please please please karmic nutjobs don't screw me. Every time I get smit I get shit. Wish me fuckity luckity.

The Universe is Responding Too Strongly to "Open For Business"

You have GOT to be kidding me.

One I love, but not in THAT way.

One I don't know and don't trust. Not really.

One I enjoy tremendously.

One I call stupid...to his face, no less. Or his ear. What disconnect could possibly take a year?

Today was awful. Tonight was fun. Later tonight was interesting and a bit annoying.

This isn't usual or normal or the typical pattern in any way. Unless you're considering draught and deluge normal. Which, I suppose, has been the way it's gone.

Waking Up Is Hard

Blame. Responsibility. My fault. Yours.

Who is on boundary duty?

I preach the non-existence of willpower. Staying good/being bad. There are only choices.

So who has the fucking responsibility here? I talk and talk and talk and talk and I'm a sucker.

I'm tired of being the strong one. The one who makes the rules and sticks to them. If there's something we should do, please don't make me be the one to do it. Ultimately I can and I will but I don't want to. Don't make me be the nose and the knife too.

Fuck it I don't know what I want in any every each arena.

Is separation necessary? Is dropping out giving up?

I Have a Torso Named Zelda

Most of the time I don't even think about what's going on. I don't have the room. Business and home and life keep me quite occupied. But I'm getting tired of carrying everyone else's shit, even though I signed up for it. Sometimes it's exhausting having everyone vomit their anxieties in my lap. (Karma's a bitch, ain't it?)

I'm working very hard at keeping the energy fields of my living room free and clear and mine! I just have to keep saying "It's theirs, not mine. It's theirs, not mine."

And then there are my friends. I love you I love you. But you all have such HUGE SHIT going on for you right now. I can't hold all of it in my head, although I'm holding all of it in my heart. Life changes and love changes and identity changes and drug changes and death changes and disease changes and changes I can't even remotely define. My stuff isn't small either, although I minimize it I fear. It's amazing how comments in childhood can sow issues I still reap. I thank you in advance for never again calling me a "diva" or "drama queen". And I make no apologies in advance for punching you if you ever do.

I help others find their comfort. I encourage them to take time for themselves and relieve themselves of the responsibility of caring for their entire social world. But I feel guilty taking that same time. Especially when everyone I care about is in turmoil. Guilt doesn't exist. It's an imaginary emotion.

I've talked before about confusing love and pity for others...now I'm confusing love and pity for myself. Where is the man who will bring me a crate of oranges?

Dumb Numb

Things are numb or dead or asleep. Not sure if it's physical or emotional or spiritual or or or. I don't know. No interest whatsoever even in healing this.

This is Fun

Secret evil growing things.

Creeptastic

This thing starts out cute (ish) at first and then progresses into full-out creepy. Had to share.

I Love Sprint

I love Sprint. Sprint Sprint Sprint!

No, I'm not kidding.

As much as I love to vilify companies that screw with me, I LOVE to extol the virtues of the ones that ROCK.

I just bought the new Treo 700p phone, which I am soooooooooooo excited about. The thing is not cheap. But somehow, some way, some glorious "gods are smiling on me" way...I managed to charge to my card only $499. But then...and this is the BESTEST PART...I have a service credit of (da da da) $787.37. Which means Sprint paid ME $288.37 to get a phat new phone.

Seriously. You can't make this shit up.

I love SSSSPPPPPPPRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNNNNTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!

Memorial Day Funny

Hospital Shit

Grandma's in the hospital again.

I realized today that I hadn't told anyone that. It's actually pretty serious. She has a bleeding ulcer and apparently is quite out of her mind. She keeps saying that she's ready to die and she just wants to let go. She's talking to people who aren't there and she's imagining the hell out of things.

Wish I could say that behavior was unusual.

Okay, that's exaggerating. It is unusual. But the woman has gone delirious before. Unfortunately, she's the worst kind of hypochondriac...sometimes she's right. You know "The Boy Who Cried Wolf"? It's like that, only it's been going on for almost eighty years. I've long since abandoned sympathy.

That, of course, makes me feel like a total shit. I wish I could care. I wish I could muster the concern and consideration that "should" be "normal" for a granddaughter to feel for her grandmother. I've just run out, I think.

But this is actually a real ailment this time, right? It isn't one of her imagined illnesses designed solely to garner attention and favor. Here's the thing, though: it didn't have to get to this. So many of her real physical dilemmas have been caused by her mind creating the manifestation in her body. In addition, if she's just seek medical attention at the first or even second sign of symptoms, so much of what has become deadly serious would have been nothing more than minor.

So I do care and I am thinking about her and all that. But I don't feel like I care as much as I'm supposed to. Whatever that means. Seems to be a theme though. Back when my uncle was dying, I believed I wasn't concerned enough over him too. I guess that shows more what my mother has drilled into me as the standards of love rather than what is natural for me. Yay guilt.

My Mom Is Right: I'll Never Get Married

I don't remember what it feels like to have a boyfriend.

I forget what it's like to have a partner...a mate. What's it like when you're not single? Is it reassuring and comforting? Is it like having a cushion behind you or a net under your feet? Or is it a burden? Is it frustrating to constantly have to think of another person? I don't remember if it's a pain to worry about two schedules instead of one.

I sometimes think I want that again. Sometimes I think I miss collusion and company. Whenever that happens, I try to imagine my energy being shared. I picture the phases: meeting you; getting to know you; sharing vulnerabilities, passions, dreams. It seems tiresome.

I've got far too much to focus on to remember the color of someone's eyes. How can I be expected to memorize a new cell phone number? There's no way to equitably divide my time.

And yet some late-night conversation might be nice. It could be lovely to have enough human touch. Enough human touch. That's what most of us are really hungry for, you know. There's just no substitute for that yet.

Would I be able to let it in if relationship suddenly came to my door? I don't know if I would even recognize the signals if someone were to unexpectedly send them my way. Do I have blinders on? Or just really dark sunglasses?

More Funny Things

I like Pearls Before Swine. What? Comics are good. Tasty, delicious and lo-cal.

Ain't Been Here In A While

Some of you (all two of you) may have noticed I haven't posted in, well, a REALLY LONG ASS TIME.

It's good. It's because I've been seriously busy and haven't had the time to introspect in a ridiculously self-indulgent way. As I had been.

But I want to post. But I don't feel like writing bunches and bunches. So I'm going to share some of my favorite "Pearls Before Swine" comic strips. What? You thought I was all smart and junk and would write cool shit? Pshh! Whatev's. Enjoy the strips.

There are sooo many more I've saved and lurve. I'm gonna' post more soon. Easier than thinking of things with my brain. My poor mushy brain.

Missing You

I miss my friend.

Davide Langs was a great love in my life. No, we were never "together" like that. He doesn't (didn't?) like the ladies. But he was a great love.

About two years ago (has it really been that long?) he had to go away for awhile. Read into that what you will...you're probably spot on. He returned, briefly, over a year and a half ago. Then he went away again. For a time, we managed to keep in frequent contact, despite international charges. I spoke to him one day and he said he was going to come back to New York in the next couple of weeks. That was the last I heard from him.

I discovered not too long after that call that he had been spirited away to a center in Switzerland. I figured he'd be there for a few months.

The months passed and kept passing. I managed to get some contact information and I sent him a letter. I don't even know if it got to him.

I don't know if he's still in Switzerland. I don't know if he's back in Italy. I don't know if he's here in New York. I don't know if he's dead or alive. I do know I can't seem to get him out of my head lately.

For a very long time I didn't think of him at all. Self-preservation I guess. But in the last few months, he has crept into my consciousness again in a disturbingly all-pervasive manner. I've dreamed about him and meditated about him and can't get him out of my mind. Everything I see reminds me of him. It's safe to say we were quite merged at one point. Last night I was at a play and I could have sworn he was sitting two rows in front of me. For most of the play, I didn't hear a word the actors spoke. After the curtain call, I slipped down to the man I thought was my friend and grabbed his arm. Of course it wasn't him. My adrenaline did not appreciate that moment of mistaken identity.

I miss him. I want to know where he is; if he's still on this planet. I've put phone calls in to everyone I know who might KNOW. They're not calling me back and I'm starting to think there may be a message in that.

My Brain is a Fuzzy Bunny

Yesterday and today...it has been very hard to focus. I have my fingers in a lot of pies, (please don't insert disgusting sexual jokes here. I insist I mean no metaphor.) and it's hard to keep track of it all. That boring old juggling image keeps coming to mind. Isn't there a better trite saying out there?

So, yeah. Fuzzy. Difficult to concentrate. Skipped yoga. Skipped Thought Exchange. Skipped responsibilities. Took a bath.

Perhaps day 2 sans caffeine might be partially to blame?

Grow Some Salty Balls You Hypocrite

So, Isaac Hayes quit South Park.

Purportedly, the man quit because he couldn't tolerate being on a show that couldn't tolerate others' religious beliefs. Or some such claptrap. Yeah. Making fun of "religious beliefs" is what put him over the edge. Of course, he didn't seem to mind when South Park made fun of the
Jews
Black People
Muslims
Alcoholics
Recovering Alcoholics
Developmentally Disabled
Physically Disabled
Transgendered
Christians
Elderly
Immigrants
Ill and Infirm
Fat People
Democrats
Republicans
Women
Gays
Pop Stars
Shit...I can't think of a group that South Park hasn't attempted to offend at one point or another.

That's the goddamn beauty of the show, people! Even though for me it has lost its luster over the years (maybe I've grown up or something silly like that) at least I could count on the fact that the creators of the show didn't discriminate...Because they discriminate against EVERYBODY! They don't make fun of just fat people or just Jews...they take the piss out of every population segment possible.

So. Isaac Hayes is a Scientologist. He's also black and fat and bald, but he didn't seem to mind when the show picked on those categories. And he didn't mind when a Virgin Mary statue bled out of its ass and he didn't mind when Cartman made fun of Jews on EVERY FRIGGING EPISODE. But, damn, you've crossed a line when you dare to pick at a pseudo-religious cult founded by a Science Fiction writer and followed by the looniest of the loons out in La-La Land.

I know I'm not saying anything new or noteworthy here. I know Scientology is freak central and we all think it's stupid for Mr. Hayes to have up and quit over such a lame excuse. It's just I'm finally personally offended. Hypocritical soapbox behavior is disgusting. Inauthenticity offends me more than anything else. Gross, Isaac. Gross.

Circuit City Sucks

Oh how they suck.

Suck suck suck.

I'm not feeling eloquent. Suffice it to say after over 2 1/2 months, I still don't have a working television set and it ain't about to spontaneously fix itself anytime soon. I wish I could sell the pile of crap and get something new! better! different! Because Sony blows as well. They suck. And they blow. That's talent, right there. That's what that is.

So, yeah. Sony and Circuit City.

You know, crap happens all the time. It annoys me, I deal with it, I move on. Sometimes I lose my shit and say horribly rude and mean things to the people over the phone like "I want you to stop talking right now. I can't stand the sound of your voice any more and I want you to transfer me to someone different. I don't care if they're going to tell me the exact same thing you're telling me, I just don't want to talk to you any more because I don't like you. Don't speak to me. Just transfer."

Mean, right? Embarassing.

But I didn't DO any of that with Circuit City. I really didn't! So why am I writing about this? Here's the reason: More people need to KNOW how horrible Circuit City's Service Center System is. Wow that's a lot of "s" sounds. Say it out loud, it's kinda' fun. I know I'm weird.

Don't ever buy the extended warranty that Circuit City offers!!! It is more trouble trying to get someone out to fix anything than it is worth. Trust me, you don't need the aggravation.

But I like to keep things a little even, so I'm going to share about some companies that are freaking AWESOME, because they deserve the kudos.

• Etymotic Research makes the best frigging in-ear noise-cancelling headphones EVER. And their service is beyond belief! Two examples:
• I lost my carrying case. I called them up to order a new one. The woman on the other end asked if I had tried the new ear flanges on my earbuds. I hadn't. She then sent me free of charge TWO replacement cases AND a set of the new flanges.
• I ran over my earbuds on the elliptical at the gym and broke 'em. Called them up. They could fix them for less than half what it would cost for new ones. I sent them in and got them back within ONE week. PLUS, they determined that even though they knew I had run over them at the gym, they felt the earbuds should still have been working, so they DIDN'T CHARGE ME FOR THE NEW SET. Seriously. How fucking incredible is that company?
• Not as amazing, but also pretty frigging fantastic: The staff at the Apple Store in Soho. They have to deal with an incomprehensible amount of assholes panicking about their computers and iPods and they STILL manage to keep their cool. Many of them also have kick-ass senses of humor and just pretty much kick ass all around. I'm talking specifically about MATT and FANYA here.
• Zappos is so cool. They have a million billion shoes online. They have reviews which (accurately) tell you if that particular style fits wide or short or whatever. They match or BEAT any other retail price (including online). They ship to you FOR FREE. Shoes always arrive like the DAY after I order them. Then, if you don't like the shoe, or it doesn't fit or whatever, you print out a FedEx label from their site, and you then you send back the shoes FOR FREE and they refund you 100% of what you paid. PLUS, as long as you haven't worn them outside, they refund your entire price up to a year after you bought them. You can buy a pair of shoes right now, keep them in your closet, never wear them, take pictures of them, whatever, and then on March 10, 2007 return them for a full refund.

So there are cool companies out there too. Just not Circuit City. Because they suck.

New York Courts Have A Hard-On For Me

Just got a thingy in the mail. A "survey" if you will. A "Jury Survey". NOT a SUMMONS, they were clear to point out.

However.

The survey bastard is the preamble to the summons. Did I NOT just serve in January? A mere LESS THAN TWO MONTHS AGO?!?! S'posed to be good for 4 years. Guess the government didn't get the memo.

Here's a fun aspect: In order to prove that I've served in the last 4 years, I'm supposed to send in a photocopy of my "proof of service". My service was so recent that I haven't even received that lovely Get Out of Jail Free Card in the mail yet.

I want to know why I seem to be at the top of the jury pool list. This is now the 5th time in the last 6 years that they've tried to call me in.

If only I had been this popular in High School....