Scooter and I didn't have our "date" last night. He called me up with a list of things he needed to get done and the things he didn't tell me were just as loud as the things he did. He's troubled. Which of course makes me want to rescue him. Which of course he does not want. So of course I will not offer.
What I did offer was to postpone our evening together til next week, which he initially accepted, and rescheduled for Monday... he then said we could get together last night, just to eat and part company -and- get together on Monday. I said "sure". He said "call me when you get off work" and I was happy that I was going to violate my own boundaries and see him twice in the span of a few days. But then, 10 minutes before I was going to call him, he called me, said he "was running late" and needed to just get together Monday.
He also expressed that he broke up with his boyfriend, really wanted to talk to me and had lots to tell me about.
It's funny how I could spend the better part of a week thinking of ways to tell him that I don't think I can give him anything anymore based on how he treats me, and within the span of a few minutes on the phone I surmise he thinks the distance between us right now is strictly for my comfort and doesn't know that anything is wrong. He tortures me. Or is it just "me" torturing me?
Far more likely the latter, with a good dose of the former.
He's such a private person, and so guarded. What little he gives me seems to be such a sacrifice for him, like he thinks he's giving me way more than he actually is.
If I didn't love him, I wouldn't be here. But then, it's not my feelings I question.
He's 25 years old, irresponsible, messed-up, repressed and directionless.
Head says run. Frequently. Heart says he's the one. More frequently. Almost constantly. Head says all I want to do is rescue him. Heart says he's an amazing man who hasn't realized it yet. Head says he'll never know what he wants unless you cut and run and let him come back to you. Heart says he needs a friend more than a lover right now, and I can't seem to detect the presence of any other man with a soul so like mine.
Tick tock. Stay, go. Tick tock. Love, run. I wonder if there's any Libra in me? That I can't make the decision to walk away. A Capricorn will believe in love with his last breath, even if it's the cause of his last breath, I'm thinking.
Do I deserve someone who loves me unconditionally? Yes. Am I convinced that person isn't Scooter? Absolutely not. Am I fucking delusional? Probably. But I'm only a danger to my emotional self.
Ray LaMontagne - "Let It Be Me"
There may come a time, a time in everyone's life
Where nothin' seems to go your way
Where nothing seems to turn out right
There may come a time, you just can't seem to find your place
For every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call.
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you're always comin' on home
Pockets full of nothin' and you got no cash
No matter where you turn you ain't got no place to stand
Reach out for something and they slap your hand
I remember all to well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you cant go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Shaky on Every Front
My anxiety is taking over.
I have an appointment with a neurologist on December 1st. As this date approaches, the fear I have about it gets a stronger foothold. I realize that fear in the face of something that needs investigation is pretty counter-productive, but I'm still afraid. For years now, I have noticed an increasing tendency for my hands to shake. Sometimes it's inhibiting to performing tasks. You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I have very weak hands. Opening jars and bottles is an ordeal.
Of greater concern to me... the shaking has gotten significant enough for people to not only notice, but comment... a lot. I've inherited it from my father. He used to shake quite a bit. But according to my mother, he would never visit a doctor to have it examined. He didn't like doctors. He didn't like hospitals. No small irony that he died in one. But at any rate, if he did have some neurological disorder that he could genetically pass on to his son, I'm soon to find out. And I'm quite thoroughly terrified.
It could be nothing. It could be emotional stress. It could be that I need to set aside 10 minutes per day to scream and cry like a crazy person. As emotional as I am, I feel repressed. I feel like a person who's screaming and crying on the inside. Have you ever seen that episode of Six Feet Under where David has a waking dream of screaming during a funeral? I'm reminded of that.
Insecure thoughts are circling and rattling my cage. I'm thinking of how my parents had me late in life. I'm thinking of the legacy of poor health in each of their families. All of my uncles and aunts on my father's side, are all gone. 10 of them. All dead. My father was the youngest, and he's been gone for almost 19 years. The siblings on my mother's side including my mother are all still alive, and I figure if I can avoid the plague of obesity they all suffer from, I can dodge a few of the bullets they've all taken.
I have no delusions of living forever. And I don't think I'm afraid to die per say. I just don't want to be sick. I don't want to suffer and degenerate. Given the fact that I'm (as I've pointed out ad nauseum) alone in life, the prospect of being unable to care for myself is frightening. But I suppose no-more-so than the thought of sentencing a loved one to care for me.
Couple this (perhaps irrational) concern with the take-over at work... the approach of Christmas... my collapsing faith in any hope of a friendship/relationship/anything with Scooter... my overall stress of social interaction... and the pressure of merely existing....
And I think I've got a pretty good recipe for an all-systems-failure.
Taking a serious look at my health, and the potential to be really unwell, sheds a light on the fact that nothing really matters, but I don't know that I "live" that knowledge... so maybe a crisis, whether real or manufactured could be just what I need.
Shut it down. Shut it all down. Everything that's not key to my existence. The friends and family who don't bother. The job that, if lost, could force me into action I've never had the courage to take. Shut down the worry. Shut down the mother fucking future I cannot see and cannot change and could not affect otherwise. Shut it down. I don't want to think about it.
I want to be a tree. I want to long for nothing more than the sun hitting the greenery and the water that nourishes the roots. Fuck health problems. Fuck worry. Fuck being loved. Fuck being known. Fuck ever wanting to please another human being on this doomed ball of dirt. Fuck it all, for tomorrow I could be forced down by winds. Struck down by lightning. Cut down by some unwitting lumberjack. Today. This moment I still stand.
I stand and spout empty words about bravery and apathy I don't possess.
And I go that much more crazy.
*sigh*
I missed my appointment with Dr Truth today. Totally forgot about it. You'd think my mind would be on therapy given how stricken I feel. I'm going to be penalized 120-dollars for missing the appointment. Which makes me think I should stop making appointments in the event that I'm going to fuck-up and miss them. I can't afford to miss them. And it's not that I have issue with the concept. Dr Truth's time is valuable. I have to make appointments well in advance because his calendar is full. When someone just doesn't show up, it's a waste of his time. That doesn't alter the fact that I can't afford a 120-dollar fuck up. Yet, my co dependence asserts itself in the pattern of thought, that without him, I will have absolutely no one to listen to me fall apart. And my ego can't handle falling apart all by myself now, can it?
Last night I went to visit my soon-to-be-nephew in the hospital. He was in Toronto (or Markham rather) to have a hernia operated on. I didn't really want to go. It was a case of feeling it wouldn't matter to him whether I did or not anyway. I don't know him very well, and thought it might even seem weird that I would go and visit him, but... he was all alone with no family up here, in a boring hospital in the middle of nowhere. So I went. He's a nice kid. I like him a lot. Mind you, I took the opportunity to deliver the bad news that I can't afford to go to their destination wedding in January.
It took me an hour and a half to get there, and even longer to get home because I don't know the transit system up there very well, and missed a bus on the way back. It turned-out to be a blessing. I had to wait an hour, so I took refuge in a Shopper's Drug Mart and bought things I've been meaning to buy, but for whatever reason, haven't. I picked up the November issue of Details magazine with Chris Pine on the cover... band aids, tissues, peroxide, nail clippers (to replace the ones I sucked up the vacuum cleaner by accident) and probably most importantly... a bottle of Valerian Root. I wish I had some right now as a matter of fact. I've used it before for anxiety. There's really no reason why I should ever not be taking it. It brings on a wonderful wave of calm. Which makes up for it's horrible smell. (wet dog in a bottle anyone?)
I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my problems that pale in comparison to the hardship that faces so many other people. I am grateful to be alive. To love and learn, and feel disenchanted with the whole ordeal. I am grateful to be creative enough to even wish to be a tree. And though it causes me self-afflicted misery... I am grateful to be self-aware. It simply must be better than ignorance and oblivion. Ok gratitude... stay with me. Balance me, ground me, heal me. I need your help so badly.
Rattling chains, fine-tuning the probe... unfurling the wings... the ghost-alien-angel will dwell among the humans another day.
Today's song of the day, is by Amy Grant. I will forever love this woman. I don't believe as she does, but if ever a true christian existed, I think it's her. So I'm not waiting for Jesus, but these lyrics speak to me anyhow. It's a great song.
Amy Grant - The Water
Quick sand
My heart is sinkin'
I try to run
But I can't stop thinkin'
I'm climbin' walls
I'm on the ceilin'
It's gonna take a miracle to heal me
I'm starin' down
Into the quarry
I see a stone
For every sorry
I'm on the edge
I'm goin' under
And after I die
I'm gonna rise from the water (oooh)
I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean
The sky is red, there's
Blood on my hands
I can't deny
I'm guilty where I stand
The verdict's in
I hear them shoutin'
Send me a river to drown this mountain (oooh)
I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean
Wash me clean
(Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me)
I have an appointment with a neurologist on December 1st. As this date approaches, the fear I have about it gets a stronger foothold. I realize that fear in the face of something that needs investigation is pretty counter-productive, but I'm still afraid. For years now, I have noticed an increasing tendency for my hands to shake. Sometimes it's inhibiting to performing tasks. You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I have very weak hands. Opening jars and bottles is an ordeal.
Of greater concern to me... the shaking has gotten significant enough for people to not only notice, but comment... a lot. I've inherited it from my father. He used to shake quite a bit. But according to my mother, he would never visit a doctor to have it examined. He didn't like doctors. He didn't like hospitals. No small irony that he died in one. But at any rate, if he did have some neurological disorder that he could genetically pass on to his son, I'm soon to find out. And I'm quite thoroughly terrified.
It could be nothing. It could be emotional stress. It could be that I need to set aside 10 minutes per day to scream and cry like a crazy person. As emotional as I am, I feel repressed. I feel like a person who's screaming and crying on the inside. Have you ever seen that episode of Six Feet Under where David has a waking dream of screaming during a funeral? I'm reminded of that.
Insecure thoughts are circling and rattling my cage. I'm thinking of how my parents had me late in life. I'm thinking of the legacy of poor health in each of their families. All of my uncles and aunts on my father's side, are all gone. 10 of them. All dead. My father was the youngest, and he's been gone for almost 19 years. The siblings on my mother's side including my mother are all still alive, and I figure if I can avoid the plague of obesity they all suffer from, I can dodge a few of the bullets they've all taken.
I have no delusions of living forever. And I don't think I'm afraid to die per say. I just don't want to be sick. I don't want to suffer and degenerate. Given the fact that I'm (as I've pointed out ad nauseum) alone in life, the prospect of being unable to care for myself is frightening. But I suppose no-more-so than the thought of sentencing a loved one to care for me.
Couple this (perhaps irrational) concern with the take-over at work... the approach of Christmas... my collapsing faith in any hope of a friendship/relationship/anything with Scooter... my overall stress of social interaction... and the pressure of merely existing....
And I think I've got a pretty good recipe for an all-systems-failure.
Taking a serious look at my health, and the potential to be really unwell, sheds a light on the fact that nothing really matters, but I don't know that I "live" that knowledge... so maybe a crisis, whether real or manufactured could be just what I need.
Shut it down. Shut it all down. Everything that's not key to my existence. The friends and family who don't bother. The job that, if lost, could force me into action I've never had the courage to take. Shut down the worry. Shut down the mother fucking future I cannot see and cannot change and could not affect otherwise. Shut it down. I don't want to think about it.
I want to be a tree. I want to long for nothing more than the sun hitting the greenery and the water that nourishes the roots. Fuck health problems. Fuck worry. Fuck being loved. Fuck being known. Fuck ever wanting to please another human being on this doomed ball of dirt. Fuck it all, for tomorrow I could be forced down by winds. Struck down by lightning. Cut down by some unwitting lumberjack. Today. This moment I still stand.
I stand and spout empty words about bravery and apathy I don't possess.
And I go that much more crazy.
*sigh*
I missed my appointment with Dr Truth today. Totally forgot about it. You'd think my mind would be on therapy given how stricken I feel. I'm going to be penalized 120-dollars for missing the appointment. Which makes me think I should stop making appointments in the event that I'm going to fuck-up and miss them. I can't afford to miss them. And it's not that I have issue with the concept. Dr Truth's time is valuable. I have to make appointments well in advance because his calendar is full. When someone just doesn't show up, it's a waste of his time. That doesn't alter the fact that I can't afford a 120-dollar fuck up. Yet, my co dependence asserts itself in the pattern of thought, that without him, I will have absolutely no one to listen to me fall apart. And my ego can't handle falling apart all by myself now, can it?
Last night I went to visit my soon-to-be-nephew in the hospital. He was in Toronto (or Markham rather) to have a hernia operated on. I didn't really want to go. It was a case of feeling it wouldn't matter to him whether I did or not anyway. I don't know him very well, and thought it might even seem weird that I would go and visit him, but... he was all alone with no family up here, in a boring hospital in the middle of nowhere. So I went. He's a nice kid. I like him a lot. Mind you, I took the opportunity to deliver the bad news that I can't afford to go to their destination wedding in January.
It took me an hour and a half to get there, and even longer to get home because I don't know the transit system up there very well, and missed a bus on the way back. It turned-out to be a blessing. I had to wait an hour, so I took refuge in a Shopper's Drug Mart and bought things I've been meaning to buy, but for whatever reason, haven't. I picked up the November issue of Details magazine with Chris Pine on the cover... band aids, tissues, peroxide, nail clippers (to replace the ones I sucked up the vacuum cleaner by accident) and probably most importantly... a bottle of Valerian Root. I wish I had some right now as a matter of fact. I've used it before for anxiety. There's really no reason why I should ever not be taking it. It brings on a wonderful wave of calm. Which makes up for it's horrible smell. (wet dog in a bottle anyone?)
I am grateful for my life. I am grateful for my problems that pale in comparison to the hardship that faces so many other people. I am grateful to be alive. To love and learn, and feel disenchanted with the whole ordeal. I am grateful to be creative enough to even wish to be a tree. And though it causes me self-afflicted misery... I am grateful to be self-aware. It simply must be better than ignorance and oblivion. Ok gratitude... stay with me. Balance me, ground me, heal me. I need your help so badly.
Rattling chains, fine-tuning the probe... unfurling the wings... the ghost-alien-angel will dwell among the humans another day.
Today's song of the day, is by Amy Grant. I will forever love this woman. I don't believe as she does, but if ever a true christian existed, I think it's her. So I'm not waiting for Jesus, but these lyrics speak to me anyhow. It's a great song.
Amy Grant - The Water
Quick sand
My heart is sinkin'
I try to run
But I can't stop thinkin'
I'm climbin' walls
I'm on the ceilin'
It's gonna take a miracle to heal me
I'm starin' down
Into the quarry
I see a stone
For every sorry
I'm on the edge
I'm goin' under
And after I die
I'm gonna rise from the water (oooh)
I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean
The sky is red, there's
Blood on my hands
I can't deny
I'm guilty where I stand
The verdict's in
I hear them shoutin'
Send me a river to drown this mountain (oooh)
I wanna blast off
Let gravity disappear
I'm tired of fallin', fallin', fallin' from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you, Jesus, in the water here
So come and wash me clean
Wash me clean
(Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me, Heaven wash me)
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Leaving "Everything But Poopie" Behind
Upon contemplating the complete abandonment of this blog in favour of something completely anonymous, I decided it would be a better idea to simply go forward with a new title.
I have one follower who checks in on a semi-regular basis, so it's not like there's much ceremony to engage in. Cheers to you lone reader. : )
The name "What I Leave Behind" is meaningful to me on a few levels, though it may seem a tad morbid. I am a tad morbid person. (I say this with a laugh.) First and foremost, everything I write here, I leave behind. I may say things time and again, but the words are, and will be, a part of my past. Hopefully dealt-with, celebrated or grieved with honest emotion.
When I started writing in this space I was a different person. The name "Everything But Poopie" was playful, and well-suited to all of my musings about being a dog owner.
I just noticed, that if you remove the letters "o" and "g" from "dog owner", you get "downer".
Perhaps.
I want to leave "myself" behind. In whatever I write. I want to leave a trail of who I am and the scope of what I felt, loved and cared for. Even if it only ever matters to me alone.
There's no goal to be known by those who don't already know me. I just want to leave a picture of "who I am", (or who I was) to anyone who does know me, to find when I'm gone. That sounds positively suicidal, but it's not. Self-indulgent maybe. But the intention is just "hey, I'm mortal".
And quite simply, I need to take everything that's so painfully inward, and release it. To be "known" for what makes me, me. That includes the things that amuse, move and inspire me. Not just anguish.
Therapy. Legacy. Biography. Emotion, wisdom, foolishness and ego.
Carved into the tree bark of the internet...
John was here.
I have one follower who checks in on a semi-regular basis, so it's not like there's much ceremony to engage in. Cheers to you lone reader. : )
The name "What I Leave Behind" is meaningful to me on a few levels, though it may seem a tad morbid. I am a tad morbid person. (I say this with a laugh.) First and foremost, everything I write here, I leave behind. I may say things time and again, but the words are, and will be, a part of my past. Hopefully dealt-with, celebrated or grieved with honest emotion.
When I started writing in this space I was a different person. The name "Everything But Poopie" was playful, and well-suited to all of my musings about being a dog owner.
I just noticed, that if you remove the letters "o" and "g" from "dog owner", you get "downer".
Perhaps.
I want to leave "myself" behind. In whatever I write. I want to leave a trail of who I am and the scope of what I felt, loved and cared for. Even if it only ever matters to me alone.
There's no goal to be known by those who don't already know me. I just want to leave a picture of "who I am", (or who I was) to anyone who does know me, to find when I'm gone. That sounds positively suicidal, but it's not. Self-indulgent maybe. But the intention is just "hey, I'm mortal".
And quite simply, I need to take everything that's so painfully inward, and release it. To be "known" for what makes me, me. That includes the things that amuse, move and inspire me. Not just anguish.
Therapy. Legacy. Biography. Emotion, wisdom, foolishness and ego.
Carved into the tree bark of the internet...
John was here.
Open Letter to Scooter
Tomorrow we meet again for dinner, and precious time spent together. You have no idea how much it means to me.
I wish you could see me the way I see you.
I wish my love were tangible and enveloping.
I wish I could properly convey how beautiful you are and how you consume me. I wish my words could be spoken. I wish you could know how I ache for you, only so you'd know how deep it goes and how safe you would be with me. How I long to keep you safe and give you everything I have to offer.
My love is so true.
It's so real.
It's so unrealized and forlorn. I wait for you.
I wait for you to see me and to love me back without any doubt or fear of abandonment.
I wait for you.
Or I wait for some other man to free me from the sad delusion I suffer from, that my waiting will be with reason and that we would be strong and true together.
Such a delusion. Like you can't break "broken".
I love you so much.
So deep.
So relentless.
So nurturing.
With such lust.
With such single-sighted longing.
With such a desire to think of you as my family.
I love you.
I love you.
Though it may yet break me.
Though you may never love me back.
I love you still.
I wish you could see me the way I see you.
I wish my love were tangible and enveloping.
I wish I could properly convey how beautiful you are and how you consume me. I wish my words could be spoken. I wish you could know how I ache for you, only so you'd know how deep it goes and how safe you would be with me. How I long to keep you safe and give you everything I have to offer.
My love is so true.
It's so real.
It's so unrealized and forlorn. I wait for you.
I wait for you to see me and to love me back without any doubt or fear of abandonment.
I wait for you.
Or I wait for some other man to free me from the sad delusion I suffer from, that my waiting will be with reason and that we would be strong and true together.
Such a delusion. Like you can't break "broken".
I love you so much.
So deep.
So relentless.
So nurturing.
With such lust.
With such single-sighted longing.
With such a desire to think of you as my family.
I love you.
I love you.
Though it may yet break me.
Though you may never love me back.
I love you still.
Beautiful Music
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-NpATPAa08&feature=player_embedded
Janelle Monae - Smile (by Charlie Chaplin)
Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you
Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
Janelle Monae - Smile (by Charlie Chaplin)
Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you
Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile
Monday, November 22, 2010
Productive Nothing Day
I took the day off work today. I'm still burning off unused holiday time from 2010, which sounds normal enough except that in my employment world, it's now 2011, and I've still got 2 more days to use up before the "big move".
A day off should be something good. Why don't you be the judge of whether mine has been? I woke up at 8. Took out the recycling. Ate my breakfast, took my vitamins, watched porn, went to the laundromat, came home, walked to the grocery store for a bag of chips and a 2 litre bottle of Pepsi (pop is a rare treat) watched 4 episodes of Arrested Development (which is one of the funniest, most-enjoyable contributions to my life right now), ate lunch, potted a new plant, bought every Adam Lambert song I enjoy from iTunes, cleaned-out my iPod a little, made my bed with the bedding I washed at said laundromat, discovered I'd lost my fabric softener on the way home from the morning excursion, retraced my steps and found the fabric softener (eureka!), moped, contemplated smoking pot but decided against it because I still want to vacuum, now I'm blogging while I do my regular laundry downstairs. Oh yes, and I forgot to mention all the time I've spent thinking about Scooter all the while this funtastic day has been unfolding.
I am a lonely man. Not necessarily miserable, but dreadfully, unspeakably, alone.
And keeping a strong attitude about it. Learning to just exist with it. I say this because I wouldn't describe this day as depressing. I've certainly kept myself occupied.
For a 3 day weekend though, this one has sucked tremendous. You can feel the pull of the suction. The slurp of time and energy being drained as though from a valve in my private store.
That's not to say Friday night with Pugs wasn't fine and dandy. And Saturday's trip to Costco and afternoon/evening of pizza and substance abuse with Peachy and McMac wasn't fun. Even hanging out with Lactose and Skatz was ok. I've never mentioned them before because I have to take Lactose in small doses (ha! No, really.) Skatz is Lactose's boyfriend, and I like him well enough. I went to the Santa Claus parade with them, and then hung out at their apartment yesterday afternoon.
They're a happy/miserable couple who will break up messily one day. I hope I'm wrong.
I spent the majority of my time sleeping on their couch at any rate. They wanted to watch movies, and I don't know if it was the chill of being outside for the parade or the sleep deprivation of having the dogs all week, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open.
I ran into a guy from volleyball on the subway home from their place. I won't name him in the event that he requires a nickname later on, but he's really cute and kind of shy. We talked for my entire trip home. (He was headed farther north.) I really got a good feeling about him. I'm not going to allow myself any happy fantasies about him beyond that, but I may ask him for a date if he's even remotely happy to see me the next time we run into each other at volleyball. Why not? He's cute, articulate and nice. Why not.
I wish I could feel better about the productivity of this day. I didn't do my workout, or my stretching routine. I didn't do my morning pages, or work on any of my writing. Had I done any of those things I wouldn't feel so guilty.
But now, it's late enough to just wait for Lion to log on to Skype, retrieve my laundry, fold it, and vacuum. I have to vacuum. The dog hair is crazy and I don't want to track any into clean bedding tonight.
What a boring blog entry. Sorry.
Hopefully you'll enjoy my guilty pleasure, Adam Lambert. Mind you, I'm not really guilty about it. I really do love him. As a person I find him quite admirable. As an artist, he's nothing if not entertaining and talented.
Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment (Brad Walsh remix)
So hot, out of the box
Can we pick up the pace
Turn it up, heat it up
I need to be entertained
Push the limit, are you with it?
Baby don't be afraid
Imma hurt you real good baby
Let's go, it's my show, baby, do what I say
Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display
I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed
Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name
No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on until it's over
Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh!
I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment
S'all right
You'll be fine
Baby I'm in control
Take the pain
Take the pleasure
I'm the master of both
Close your eyes, not your mind
Let me into your soul
I'm gonna work it 'til your totally blown
No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on 'til it's over
Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh
Do you like what you see?
Oh
Let me entertain ya 'til you scream
Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh!
I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment
A day off should be something good. Why don't you be the judge of whether mine has been? I woke up at 8. Took out the recycling. Ate my breakfast, took my vitamins, watched porn, went to the laundromat, came home, walked to the grocery store for a bag of chips and a 2 litre bottle of Pepsi (pop is a rare treat) watched 4 episodes of Arrested Development (which is one of the funniest, most-enjoyable contributions to my life right now), ate lunch, potted a new plant, bought every Adam Lambert song I enjoy from iTunes, cleaned-out my iPod a little, made my bed with the bedding I washed at said laundromat, discovered I'd lost my fabric softener on the way home from the morning excursion, retraced my steps and found the fabric softener (eureka!), moped, contemplated smoking pot but decided against it because I still want to vacuum, now I'm blogging while I do my regular laundry downstairs. Oh yes, and I forgot to mention all the time I've spent thinking about Scooter all the while this funtastic day has been unfolding.
I am a lonely man. Not necessarily miserable, but dreadfully, unspeakably, alone.
And keeping a strong attitude about it. Learning to just exist with it. I say this because I wouldn't describe this day as depressing. I've certainly kept myself occupied.
For a 3 day weekend though, this one has sucked tremendous. You can feel the pull of the suction. The slurp of time and energy being drained as though from a valve in my private store.
That's not to say Friday night with Pugs wasn't fine and dandy. And Saturday's trip to Costco and afternoon/evening of pizza and substance abuse with Peachy and McMac wasn't fun. Even hanging out with Lactose and Skatz was ok. I've never mentioned them before because I have to take Lactose in small doses (ha! No, really.) Skatz is Lactose's boyfriend, and I like him well enough. I went to the Santa Claus parade with them, and then hung out at their apartment yesterday afternoon.
They're a happy/miserable couple who will break up messily one day. I hope I'm wrong.
I spent the majority of my time sleeping on their couch at any rate. They wanted to watch movies, and I don't know if it was the chill of being outside for the parade or the sleep deprivation of having the dogs all week, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open.
I ran into a guy from volleyball on the subway home from their place. I won't name him in the event that he requires a nickname later on, but he's really cute and kind of shy. We talked for my entire trip home. (He was headed farther north.) I really got a good feeling about him. I'm not going to allow myself any happy fantasies about him beyond that, but I may ask him for a date if he's even remotely happy to see me the next time we run into each other at volleyball. Why not? He's cute, articulate and nice. Why not.
I wish I could feel better about the productivity of this day. I didn't do my workout, or my stretching routine. I didn't do my morning pages, or work on any of my writing. Had I done any of those things I wouldn't feel so guilty.
But now, it's late enough to just wait for Lion to log on to Skype, retrieve my laundry, fold it, and vacuum. I have to vacuum. The dog hair is crazy and I don't want to track any into clean bedding tonight.
What a boring blog entry. Sorry.
Hopefully you'll enjoy my guilty pleasure, Adam Lambert. Mind you, I'm not really guilty about it. I really do love him. As a person I find him quite admirable. As an artist, he's nothing if not entertaining and talented.
Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment (Brad Walsh remix)
So hot, out of the box
Can we pick up the pace
Turn it up, heat it up
I need to be entertained
Push the limit, are you with it?
Baby don't be afraid
Imma hurt you real good baby
Let's go, it's my show, baby, do what I say
Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display
I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed
Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name
No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on until it's over
Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh!
I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment
S'all right
You'll be fine
Baby I'm in control
Take the pain
Take the pleasure
I'm the master of both
Close your eyes, not your mind
Let me into your soul
I'm gonna work it 'til your totally blown
No escaping when I start
Once I'm in I own your heart
There's no way to ring the alarm
So hold on 'til it's over
Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh
Do you like what you see?
Oh
Let me entertain ya 'til you scream
Oh!
Do you know what you got into
Can you handle what I am about to do
'Cause it's about to get rough for you
I'm here for your entertainment
Oh!
I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
You thought an angel swept you off your feet
But I'm about to turn up the heat
I'm here for your entertainment
Friday, November 19, 2010
How I Met Pugs
Going to have dinner with Pugs tonight. Yummo, yummo, yummo... we're having Chinese take-out from China House restaurant on Eglinton West. It's a celebratory dinner because she got a 6-month contract job that she starts on Monday. I'm really happy for her. And quite proud of her too. Pugs is my 59 year old friend who lives one floor down from me in my building.
We sometimes go to the movies, sometimes play cards, and she quite frequently invites me over for dinner. She's a nice lady, and though she's lonely, she's assertive and social and when she has no friends, she introduces herself to strangers.
I know this, because that's how we met.
2 years ago when I was still a dog-owner, I used to run into Pugs in the elevator with her little dog "Suzette". We communed as most dog owners do with the good fortune of having dogs that don't want to kill every other dog they encounter.
You get 3 guesses what breed of dog she has, and the first two guesses don't count.
When I first met Pugs, she kind of spooked me a little, because she was so forward and a little socially awkward. But... loneliness does that. I'm learning first hand. Sometimes the mere act of speaking to strangers seems to project a second holographic head beside your real one for people to gawk at as they reach for non-existent pepper spray.
The first time Pugs and I had a significant conversation was the day she saw me toting around a book. (not an unusual sight) It was the Time Traveler's Wife. She's an avid reader, and took full advantage of the opportunity to ask me what I thought of the plot, and since I was loving it, I told her so. The next time I saw Pugs, she told me she'd picked-up a copy of the book and was reading it too.
One day she kinda cornered me in the elevator and just blurted out, "John, are you gay"? Bold, top-of-the-mind inquisition that brought a smile to my face. I replied, "Yes I am". And she was pleased that I would admit it to her. She said she wondered because I always referred to the dogs being with "my ex" every second week, and never saying ex "girlfriend" or "wife". Pugs also wanted me to know she had no issues with gay people and she was worried that we'd never be friends if I couldn't tell her. She then asked me if we could be friends outright, to which I replied with more than a little inward trepidation that we could.
I'm a little ashamed to admit that, because really, being friends with Pugs has added a wonderful element to my home life. It's really nice to have a friend who lives in another apartment in your building. We've borrowed things from one another. I've helped her with things she couldn't do on her own, looked after plants, and I'm going to look after Suzy for her for a weekend in January. And she cooks for me, and lends me books, and quotes me poetry and tells me stories. We take turns paying when we go to movies and restaurants. It's kind of like having a mother who's a friend.
Admittedly, I don't treat her like a mother, because I have issues with her getting too close, because she can be a little ...eccentric, and demanding. But for the most-part, I really do enjoy being friends with Pugs, and like that I can help her and be company. I don't want to even allude to it being charity, because she's been a friend and company for me too. It's not like I'm mister popular.
Pugs is a kind woman. She's led an emotionally difficult life, and she doesn't wield her solitude like a crutch. I admire her. Even if she thinks her dog is actually speaking to her.
Perhaps a stage in life that waits for me too.
Elvis Presley - "Are You Lonesome Tonight"
Are you lonesome tonight,
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the worlds a stage
And each must play a part.
Fate had me playing in love you as my sweet heart.
Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue
Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why Ill never know.
Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you.
But Id rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you.
Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you wont come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
We sometimes go to the movies, sometimes play cards, and she quite frequently invites me over for dinner. She's a nice lady, and though she's lonely, she's assertive and social and when she has no friends, she introduces herself to strangers.
I know this, because that's how we met.
2 years ago when I was still a dog-owner, I used to run into Pugs in the elevator with her little dog "Suzette". We communed as most dog owners do with the good fortune of having dogs that don't want to kill every other dog they encounter.
You get 3 guesses what breed of dog she has, and the first two guesses don't count.
When I first met Pugs, she kind of spooked me a little, because she was so forward and a little socially awkward. But... loneliness does that. I'm learning first hand. Sometimes the mere act of speaking to strangers seems to project a second holographic head beside your real one for people to gawk at as they reach for non-existent pepper spray.
The first time Pugs and I had a significant conversation was the day she saw me toting around a book. (not an unusual sight) It was the Time Traveler's Wife. She's an avid reader, and took full advantage of the opportunity to ask me what I thought of the plot, and since I was loving it, I told her so. The next time I saw Pugs, she told me she'd picked-up a copy of the book and was reading it too.
One day she kinda cornered me in the elevator and just blurted out, "John, are you gay"? Bold, top-of-the-mind inquisition that brought a smile to my face. I replied, "Yes I am". And she was pleased that I would admit it to her. She said she wondered because I always referred to the dogs being with "my ex" every second week, and never saying ex "girlfriend" or "wife". Pugs also wanted me to know she had no issues with gay people and she was worried that we'd never be friends if I couldn't tell her. She then asked me if we could be friends outright, to which I replied with more than a little inward trepidation that we could.
I'm a little ashamed to admit that, because really, being friends with Pugs has added a wonderful element to my home life. It's really nice to have a friend who lives in another apartment in your building. We've borrowed things from one another. I've helped her with things she couldn't do on her own, looked after plants, and I'm going to look after Suzy for her for a weekend in January. And she cooks for me, and lends me books, and quotes me poetry and tells me stories. We take turns paying when we go to movies and restaurants. It's kind of like having a mother who's a friend.
Admittedly, I don't treat her like a mother, because I have issues with her getting too close, because she can be a little ...eccentric, and demanding. But for the most-part, I really do enjoy being friends with Pugs, and like that I can help her and be company. I don't want to even allude to it being charity, because she's been a friend and company for me too. It's not like I'm mister popular.
Pugs is a kind woman. She's led an emotionally difficult life, and she doesn't wield her solitude like a crutch. I admire her. Even if she thinks her dog is actually speaking to her.
Perhaps a stage in life that waits for me too.
Elvis Presley - "Are You Lonesome Tonight"
Are you lonesome tonight,
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the worlds a stage
And each must play a part.
Fate had me playing in love you as my sweet heart.
Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue
Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why Ill never know.
Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you.
But Id rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you.
Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you wont come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.
Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Global Anxiety
This morning I was listening to an interview with Joe Pantalone on CBC radio one. He just recently lost the race for Mayor of Toronto to Rob Ford. Mr Pantalone has been in politics for 30 years. He’s articulate. He seems thoughtful, intelligent and pleasant. Everything Rob Ford appears “not” to be.
The host asked Joe Pantalone what he thought could be the reason behind Toronto’s swing to a Conservative mindset, and he gave the most likely answer I’ve ever heard. He said “the world is in the grip of global anxiety”, and people when faced with fears tend to look for answers in the safest way. (I’m paraphrasing.)
I can’t help but wholeheartedly agree that that is exactly why a right-wing conservative mentality is on the rise. Fear.
The Conservative Party of Canada just killed Bill C-311, (requiring the federal government to set regulations to bring greenhouse gas emissions 25% below 1990 levels by 2020, and to set a long-term target to bring emissions to 80% below 1990 levels by 2050) furthering my belief that Stephen Harper and his cronies don’t give a rat’s ass about the environment.
People can control economies… (for the time being) until such time that our planet says “no more”. The “global anxiety” that Mr. Pantalone spoke of, is quite real. But I don’t think the heart of it is a financial recession. Granted, people having no means to support themselves or families is of huge concern to everyone.
I happen to think natural disasters are of bigger concern. And caring for our home… this planet… the only one we have… is of much greater importance than securing economies that will fall when the earth can no longer sustain us. “You can’t conduct business in a burning building”.
Global anxiety could be triggered at a very low-level of consciousness within us when our habitat is threatened. Volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, flooding, fires, storms… I’d say we’re getting our fair share of threats to our existence as a species. Religious folk (ie: my mom) wag a finger and claim it’s prophesy from the bible coming true. Perhaps. Who knows?
I tend to think a virile, unchecked, expanding species like our own, hell-bent on consuming and multiplying without any consequence is bound to hit a tipping point of “self-fulfilling” prophesy. When is the wake-up call, that we can, and will use things up? I think it was years ago.
People are still sleeping.
Are you with me? [x3]
You're not golden
And I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place
When really you've only just arrived
I caught first glimmers
In hides and skins
Look who's all grown up
Black swanning about the solar winds
You're gonna lose it all
And find yourself on your knees
So, get a grip and you might
Flow, reverse the great, slow bleed
I've tried patience, but
You always want a war
This house won't tolerate any more
Stop this right away
Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now
The cold shoulder
Folded arms and looking up
You've never listened
And carry on careless, regardless
This is not a fire drill and
If we hold any hope
It's harmonic connection
And stereo symbiosis
These legoland empires
Choking out mine now
You're everywhere, everywhere
Multiplying around me, child
A strain on my heart
This rock can't tolerate any more
Stop this right away
Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now
Baby, behave, we'll make it work [x8]
(Baby, do you love me?)
Whoa , oh, oh, oh
Whoa , oh, oh, oh
Whoa , oh, oh, oh (yeah)
Whoa , oh, oh, oh [cont]
You're only what you give back [x5]
Back
Stop this right away
(Baby, behave, we'll make it work) [cont]
Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now
Stop this right away
Put that down and clean this mess up
End of conversation
Put your back in it and
Make it up to me now
Are you with me? [x3]
You're only what you give back [x5]
Back
(You're not golden
And I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place
When really you've only just arrived)
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
How Would a Goat Say Amen?
"To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive".
-- Robert Louis Stevenson
I read this this morning in the subway and it really spoke to me. There are many inspirational quotations in the margins of the pages of The Artist's Way. Others have been really poignant to the recovery process I'm working towards, but this one in particular, speaks to my aching Capricorn soul.
If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that I do not enjoy advice. That's not to say I don't like hearing people's opinion, or that I don't think there's any wisdom to be found in the perspective of another. That would be foolish, and just plain goat-stubborn-stupid.
But, as I've pointed out before. I am a very unusual person. I don't always see why things should work the way people say they should... and therefore, I dig in my little hooves and lower my horns and defiantly bleat a sad little "goaty" tune as I take the difficult path.
Often I feel that people feel the need to solve your problems for you just as readily as they'd like someone to solve their problems for them. And really, I'm sure we all wish at some point in our lives that someone could wave a magic wand, but that's just not how things work.
As well-meaning as people are when they'd like to solve my problems... I quite frequently find myself annoyed at how quickly they're offering-up solutions when they don't even know the scope of how I feel or why. I find my annoyance with people offering advice has altered the way I talk to friends about their problems. I'm far more apt to ask question after question, and very seldom say what I "think" they should do. After-all, in most cases, we all do exactly what we're going to do, or would have done anyway.... ....don't we? Perhaps my thoughts on that are distorted by Capricorn arrogance.
At any rate, I wish sometimes that friends would try to understand my hurt instead of charting their course out of my journey.
Lion told me on Monday, "Oh JohnJo, you take a look around you, you spot the most complicated thing, and head straight for it." And that was pertaining to a sexual escapade I had on Friday night, that I detailed to him, but not to this blog. He's totally correct in the assessment of that circumstance, but let's keep in mind that he, at 25, has more experience sexually than I do at the ripe old age of 37. I'm allowed to experiment and I don't have to answer to anyone as long as I'm not hurting anybody.
And of course, as everything in my life swings back 'round to Scooter, I have overwhelmingly refused to "humbly say Amen" to what other people say about my love for him. I look for ways to justify the way I accept everything about our damaged (and perhaps, damaging) relationship in the name of believing that sometimes you must hold on, and not give up on someone. The difficulty with Scooter, for me, comes with discerning whether or not he wants me to give up on him.
If he did. I would.
And until I eventually detail the Johnny and Scooter saga from start to finish (which I'm working on in my "Yellow" notebook) and everyone knows every reason why I love him, how lovable he is, and the circumstances of every hurt we've caused one another... ...I really don't want any advice... ok? *wink*
I will not say "Amen". Not yet anyhow.
Kate Havnevik - "Kaleidoscope"
You cut me out in little stars
and place me in the sky.
I lose my sense of time
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go.
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
A tingle travels up my spine
a cluster of colours and twine
as we melt into wine
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
-- Robert Louis Stevenson
I read this this morning in the subway and it really spoke to me. There are many inspirational quotations in the margins of the pages of The Artist's Way. Others have been really poignant to the recovery process I'm working towards, but this one in particular, speaks to my aching Capricorn soul.
If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that I do not enjoy advice. That's not to say I don't like hearing people's opinion, or that I don't think there's any wisdom to be found in the perspective of another. That would be foolish, and just plain goat-stubborn-stupid.
But, as I've pointed out before. I am a very unusual person. I don't always see why things should work the way people say they should... and therefore, I dig in my little hooves and lower my horns and defiantly bleat a sad little "goaty" tune as I take the difficult path.
Often I feel that people feel the need to solve your problems for you just as readily as they'd like someone to solve their problems for them. And really, I'm sure we all wish at some point in our lives that someone could wave a magic wand, but that's just not how things work.
As well-meaning as people are when they'd like to solve my problems... I quite frequently find myself annoyed at how quickly they're offering-up solutions when they don't even know the scope of how I feel or why. I find my annoyance with people offering advice has altered the way I talk to friends about their problems. I'm far more apt to ask question after question, and very seldom say what I "think" they should do. After-all, in most cases, we all do exactly what we're going to do, or would have done anyway.... ....don't we? Perhaps my thoughts on that are distorted by Capricorn arrogance.
At any rate, I wish sometimes that friends would try to understand my hurt instead of charting their course out of my journey.
Lion told me on Monday, "Oh JohnJo, you take a look around you, you spot the most complicated thing, and head straight for it." And that was pertaining to a sexual escapade I had on Friday night, that I detailed to him, but not to this blog. He's totally correct in the assessment of that circumstance, but let's keep in mind that he, at 25, has more experience sexually than I do at the ripe old age of 37. I'm allowed to experiment and I don't have to answer to anyone as long as I'm not hurting anybody.
And of course, as everything in my life swings back 'round to Scooter, I have overwhelmingly refused to "humbly say Amen" to what other people say about my love for him. I look for ways to justify the way I accept everything about our damaged (and perhaps, damaging) relationship in the name of believing that sometimes you must hold on, and not give up on someone. The difficulty with Scooter, for me, comes with discerning whether or not he wants me to give up on him.
If he did. I would.
And until I eventually detail the Johnny and Scooter saga from start to finish (which I'm working on in my "Yellow" notebook) and everyone knows every reason why I love him, how lovable he is, and the circumstances of every hurt we've caused one another... ...I really don't want any advice... ok? *wink*
I will not say "Amen". Not yet anyhow.
Kate Havnevik - "Kaleidoscope"
You cut me out in little stars
and place me in the sky.
I lose my sense of time
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go.
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
A tingle travels up my spine
a cluster of colours and twine
as we melt into wine
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Dances With Trolls
Wow, still in the doldrums.
I've sat with this window open all day thinking I'd write something light-hearted once it hit me, and instead I mixed-it-up with small-minded trolls making hateful comments under a video on YouTube.
The comments have since been disabled, which is a blessing in disguise. I can stop monitoring it and making comments of my own in a futile attempt to dispel homophobia and make the world a better place. *sigh*
My worked-up nerves and frustration are what I get for not adhering to my own boundaries. I try not to read comments under anything on the internet. There, dwell dragons and hateful idiots spewing venom.
So much homophobia springs from religion. That is my number one reason for distrusting religious folk, and for seeking out real answers to counter my childhood Pentecostal indoctrination. The greatest truth or peace I have ever found was in embracing Atheism. Though I must admit, there is additional frustration at this point in believing as I do and hearing people spout religious dogma. It makes blind faith in a deity a lot less tolerable to not believe in god(s).
I highly recommend "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. It changed my life for the better. In terms of my own self-esteem and acceptance of my own homosexuality/releasing the programming... I read that book and a light came on. It made more sense than anything else I'd ever read.
Today I leave you with a quote (by Stephen F Roberts) before the song. And a statement I truly believe by an unknown author.
Morality is doing right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you're told, no matter what is right.
I've sat with this window open all day thinking I'd write something light-hearted once it hit me, and instead I mixed-it-up with small-minded trolls making hateful comments under a video on YouTube.
The comments have since been disabled, which is a blessing in disguise. I can stop monitoring it and making comments of my own in a futile attempt to dispel homophobia and make the world a better place. *sigh*
My worked-up nerves and frustration are what I get for not adhering to my own boundaries. I try not to read comments under anything on the internet. There, dwell dragons and hateful idiots spewing venom.
So much homophobia springs from religion. That is my number one reason for distrusting religious folk, and for seeking out real answers to counter my childhood Pentecostal indoctrination. The greatest truth or peace I have ever found was in embracing Atheism. Though I must admit, there is additional frustration at this point in believing as I do and hearing people spout religious dogma. It makes blind faith in a deity a lot less tolerable to not believe in god(s).
I highly recommend "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. It changed my life for the better. In terms of my own self-esteem and acceptance of my own homosexuality/releasing the programming... I read that book and a light came on. It made more sense than anything else I'd ever read.
Today I leave you with a quote (by Stephen F Roberts) before the song. And a statement I truly believe by an unknown author.
| "I contend we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours." | |
| | ...Stephen F Roberts |
Morality is doing right, no matter what you are told. Religion is doing what you're told, no matter what is right.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Alien, Angel or Ghost
I'm in a place right now, where I feel nothing good will ever come from my relationship with Scooter. It will always be my effort for his apathy. And yet, I'm not the type of person who gives up on people that I love. I genuinely wish we could have some kind of friendship. I just can't see that far. And being the person I am, it's always an issue of letting go.
"Let go" of those who can't give you what you want. "Let go" of those who don't care for you the way you want or need them to. Where is the balance of accepting people for who or what they are, and what they can provide you ...with valuing yourself and not allowing people to take you for granted or abuse you? How many people simply walk away from everyone the moment something isn't right? And how many people stay long beyond what any sane person would tolerate?
After our "date" on the 24th, I'll let it die. I'll let it fade. I'll speak when spoken to, and leave an open door, but turn off the flashing neon sign. That in itself should satiate my need to "not give up", but no longer chase the affections of someone who just doesn't care whether I'm around.
I "think" that I'm open and giving, and forthright and genuine... and yet... I fear I don't let anyone in. Furthermore, I don't truly believe anyone "wants" in. I am that odd. I am that "unique". I am that egocentric and arrogant to obsess over it too.
I'm an alien, or an angel or a ghost. I am something otherworldly that doesn't belong here. More and more, I believe there is no one for me in this life. This time around the cogs my goal is to achieve happiness in solitude and enjoy the gift of life as an observer. I say this with only a sparing amount of self-pity, and a whole lot of awareness of what I've been through and how I'm treated.
I quite simply, do not fit in. And I'm largely ok with it, if a little lonely for my knowledge of it.
That person in the conversation who's always listening? That's me. If I don't pipe up and offer my thoughts and opinions on things, no one will ask. Of this there is a guarantee. I could wager money on it.
Of course, there's the possibility that I'm merely uninteresting. This makes me hold my tongue on occasion.
I am forever the pursuer, and never the pursued. And yet, when I stop trying, I am still not pursued; I'm merely given to solitude.
For anyone not following this, I assure you, I'm no longer talking about Scooter exclusively. He's just one of the many.
Whatever...
Like I said before... I just haven't spent enough time alone yet. "Do good and good will come to you."
I have friends that love me, even if I still manage to feel alone in their presence. And if my purpose in this life is not to discover how to live happily alone, then I will cross paths with a man who matches my paradigm - or blows it out of the water.
I am certainly a "strong" personality. There must be some guy out there hurtling toward me at the speed of gravity, that I won't have to "try" to love or be loved by.
It's hard to sound convincing saying you "don't want a boyfriend" when you obsess over loneliness that way I do. I don't view "being alone" as a bad thing. It's just a state of things. And I wouldn't have to be alone if I were willing to settle for the efforts of guys who just don't make the full grade and friends who don't give what they get. I swear I'm not sitting here saying "poor me". I'm just wishful. Longing even. It's not easy to be alone. And I know it's not exclusive to me.
How many people throughout history have pondered the same self-consumed things? Tiresome.
When you hear from me tomorrow, I'll be in a better state of mind. I have my dogs for the week while Eak is in Las Vegas for business. I'm really looking forward to having the boys. They'll be good for my soul, if not my social calendar.
*note to self* Just live your life Johnny. Live it for you. Happiness within. Dig it out. There's gold in them there chasms.
Song of the day is Jann Arden's new song from her live album "Spotlight". Sadly the audio clip I've linked to on YouTube is ridiculously sped-up, probably for copyright purposes. The song is still "listenable", but it's the Jann Arden "chipmunks treatment" to be sure.
Jann Arden - "I Can't Make You Stay"
"Let go" of those who can't give you what you want. "Let go" of those who don't care for you the way you want or need them to. Where is the balance of accepting people for who or what they are, and what they can provide you ...with valuing yourself and not allowing people to take you for granted or abuse you? How many people simply walk away from everyone the moment something isn't right? And how many people stay long beyond what any sane person would tolerate?
After our "date" on the 24th, I'll let it die. I'll let it fade. I'll speak when spoken to, and leave an open door, but turn off the flashing neon sign. That in itself should satiate my need to "not give up", but no longer chase the affections of someone who just doesn't care whether I'm around.
I "think" that I'm open and giving, and forthright and genuine... and yet... I fear I don't let anyone in. Furthermore, I don't truly believe anyone "wants" in. I am that odd. I am that "unique". I am that egocentric and arrogant to obsess over it too.
I'm an alien, or an angel or a ghost. I am something otherworldly that doesn't belong here. More and more, I believe there is no one for me in this life. This time around the cogs my goal is to achieve happiness in solitude and enjoy the gift of life as an observer. I say this with only a sparing amount of self-pity, and a whole lot of awareness of what I've been through and how I'm treated.
I quite simply, do not fit in. And I'm largely ok with it, if a little lonely for my knowledge of it.
That person in the conversation who's always listening? That's me. If I don't pipe up and offer my thoughts and opinions on things, no one will ask. Of this there is a guarantee. I could wager money on it.
Of course, there's the possibility that I'm merely uninteresting. This makes me hold my tongue on occasion.
I am forever the pursuer, and never the pursued. And yet, when I stop trying, I am still not pursued; I'm merely given to solitude.
For anyone not following this, I assure you, I'm no longer talking about Scooter exclusively. He's just one of the many.
Whatever...
Like I said before... I just haven't spent enough time alone yet. "Do good and good will come to you."
I have friends that love me, even if I still manage to feel alone in their presence. And if my purpose in this life is not to discover how to live happily alone, then I will cross paths with a man who matches my paradigm - or blows it out of the water.
I am certainly a "strong" personality. There must be some guy out there hurtling toward me at the speed of gravity, that I won't have to "try" to love or be loved by.
It's hard to sound convincing saying you "don't want a boyfriend" when you obsess over loneliness that way I do. I don't view "being alone" as a bad thing. It's just a state of things. And I wouldn't have to be alone if I were willing to settle for the efforts of guys who just don't make the full grade and friends who don't give what they get. I swear I'm not sitting here saying "poor me". I'm just wishful. Longing even. It's not easy to be alone. And I know it's not exclusive to me.
How many people throughout history have pondered the same self-consumed things? Tiresome.
When you hear from me tomorrow, I'll be in a better state of mind. I have my dogs for the week while Eak is in Las Vegas for business. I'm really looking forward to having the boys. They'll be good for my soul, if not my social calendar.
*note to self* Just live your life Johnny. Live it for you. Happiness within. Dig it out. There's gold in them there chasms.
Song of the day is Jann Arden's new song from her live album "Spotlight". Sadly the audio clip I've linked to on YouTube is ridiculously sped-up, probably for copyright purposes. The song is still "listenable", but it's the Jann Arden "chipmunks treatment" to be sure.
Jann Arden - "I Can't Make You Stay"
Not going to lie across the subway track,
Not gonna pin you to the floor
Not gonna bind you up or pull you down
So what are you waiting for
After all we’ve been through,
I’m not gonna beg you
So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change, no.. change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.
I’ve given you what’s left of me
Everything I am.
I try to be the ocean you could float on baby
The fuel that made you fast.
If I’m not the dream you dream,
If I don’t make you happy
Just go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up
No matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.
Don’t need to see it in your eyes
To know it won’t be long, it won’t be long
Don’t need to hear your goodbyes
To know you’re already gone
So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way…
My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.
I can’t make you stay.
Oh no, no….
I can’t make you stay.
I can’t make you….
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
I Dreamt I Dwelt Between Chris Pine's Thighs
Ain't got nothin' much to talk about today. But I suppose that's not much different from any other day.
Right now I'm listening to CBC Radio 2/Pacific online to catch a beautiful Opera piece that I heard on the radio a while ago. I heard it on Tempo, so I'm hoping it will repeat and that miraculously, I'll hear who performed it so I can hunt it down. Fridays are "Music That Rocked Your World" days, and I'm not a huge fan of opera, but it was one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. It will likely be one of those instances where I'll never hear it again. ...Or hear it again months from now and forget that I've heard it before. Hide your own Easter Eggs kids.
The situation with Scooter is somewhat resolved. Though he had me FUMING mad. On my way to volleyball last night I couldn't help but start giggling, at the way he called me up in a huff, saying "What's this bullshit about me being rude and you being mad at me?" Because I know he was concerned, and yet trying to put up some bravado. In spite of his nonchalance, I could tell he was concerned, because he verified with me, not once, but twice that we were still on for our "date" (of sorts) on the 24th. It bothers me that I so readily forgive him. I was ready to throw up my arms and say "you're too much work" yesterday. I was expecting him to call "drama", and rehearsing the retort that if I was too much drama then he should just leave me alone. But of course, I am always more drama than I ever have the opportunity to act out.
I love him so much. I can't help it. I'm pathetic. He calls me up indignant, and still manages to score points for confronting my anger head-on, apologizing and pledging to do better in the future. Whether or not he does, remains to be seen. He may stop texting me altogether. Which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I'm self-campaigning to get over him.
Sexual frustration is my greatest affliction right now. And I'm satiating one craving with another solution: I've eaten half a large dark chocolate bar. 72% Cacao. Not dark enough, but satisfactory. (It was on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart.) And in ode to my cravings, I give you pictures of Chris Pine. Oh the things I would do.
Yes, the new Captain Kirk does it for me in ways I cannot describe. And probably because he reminds me of Scooter. Yes. Scooter is this good looking. If a little chubbier in recent times.
Oh!!! They're playing the opera piece again!!! It's so gorgeous. I wish I could share it. I know she spoke about it before it started to play and I completely missed who it's by - AGAIN.
*time passes*
Eureka!! I did a little hunting and discovered what it is: "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" Act 2 of Bohemian Girl, as performed by Elina Garanca. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to find this.
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,
They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
Right now I'm listening to CBC Radio 2/Pacific online to catch a beautiful Opera piece that I heard on the radio a while ago. I heard it on Tempo, so I'm hoping it will repeat and that miraculously, I'll hear who performed it so I can hunt it down. Fridays are "Music That Rocked Your World" days, and I'm not a huge fan of opera, but it was one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. It will likely be one of those instances where I'll never hear it again. ...Or hear it again months from now and forget that I've heard it before. Hide your own Easter Eggs kids.
The situation with Scooter is somewhat resolved. Though he had me FUMING mad. On my way to volleyball last night I couldn't help but start giggling, at the way he called me up in a huff, saying "What's this bullshit about me being rude and you being mad at me?" Because I know he was concerned, and yet trying to put up some bravado. In spite of his nonchalance, I could tell he was concerned, because he verified with me, not once, but twice that we were still on for our "date" (of sorts) on the 24th. It bothers me that I so readily forgive him. I was ready to throw up my arms and say "you're too much work" yesterday. I was expecting him to call "drama", and rehearsing the retort that if I was too much drama then he should just leave me alone. But of course, I am always more drama than I ever have the opportunity to act out.
I love him so much. I can't help it. I'm pathetic. He calls me up indignant, and still manages to score points for confronting my anger head-on, apologizing and pledging to do better in the future. Whether or not he does, remains to be seen. He may stop texting me altogether. Which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I'm self-campaigning to get over him.
Sexual frustration is my greatest affliction right now. And I'm satiating one craving with another solution: I've eaten half a large dark chocolate bar. 72% Cacao. Not dark enough, but satisfactory. (It was on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart.) And in ode to my cravings, I give you pictures of Chris Pine. Oh the things I would do.
Yes, the new Captain Kirk does it for me in ways I cannot describe. And probably because he reminds me of Scooter. Yes. Scooter is this good looking. If a little chubbier in recent times.Oh!!! They're playing the opera piece again!!! It's so gorgeous. I wish I could share it. I know she spoke about it before it started to play and I completely missed who it's by - AGAIN.
*time passes*
Eureka!! I did a little hunting and discovered what it is: "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" Act 2 of Bohemian Girl, as performed by Elina Garanca. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to find this.
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,
They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
O Canada Tree, O Canada Tree
I am pooooooped. So frickin' exhausted it's not even funny.
Peachy called me up yesterday and we decided to hang out last night. He and his boyfriend "McMac" are good company and we had a nice time just hangin' out doing a whole lotta nothing at Peachy's place. He has a really nice apartment, and kindred that he is, he's a music fanatic, so we always have plenty to listen to or talk about. About a month ago, Peachy bought a new turntable to allow him to actually enjoy his rather sizable record collection. There's something organic and fun about listening to actual LP's, and examining the album art and enjoying an entirely different sound quality. My favourite selection of the night was INXS "Kick". Though I did enjoy being introduced to the music of Morrisey. I've never really explored his stuff. It seems wrist-slittingly honest and raw. I'm not sure how much of it would be good for my outlook on life lately. But I did like it.
Staying entirely too late for a work night is my specialty. Last night was no exception. I left at 11:45 and got home at 12:30. I then turned on my computer so I could leave Skype running for Lion to wake me at 6am like we planned. My computer was misbehaving, so I contacted the tech support that I pay for and asked them to take a look at my computer via remote. After much process and puttering around, I got to bed around 2 and awoke to the "beep beep booping" of Skype, and a smiling, mid-day-hyper Lion at 6:30.
He filled me in on some drama involving his mother's employees, and showed me some things he bought on a recent shopping trip. 2 beautiful jackets, some nice gloves and some cute character-emblazoned boot-slippers (just for women) that he scored in his size. He was giddy about the boot-slippers, and how nice and warm they were, and he started my day with joy.
Coincidentally enough, I was treated to some of his singing, and in classic Lion form... it was him proudly singing "O Canada" ...to the tune of "O Christmas Tree". It's always the first melody that comes to mind for him. Our founding fathers would laugh, and hug him for the light in his eyes and how much he wants to come back.
He's so easy to talk to.
I'm running on a mere 4-plus hours of sleep though. And I'm emotional and on-edge because I confronted Scooter this morning via text. Stuff I feel distraught and hopeless about. We're always a stone's throw from good bye it would seem. It's a stupid issue really. He sucks about text messages and I told him how it made me feel last week, and he was up to the same bullshit last night. So today I told him he's rude, and that I'm mad at him. No word from him yet. If I'm right, he'll use it as an excuse to stay away. Part of me expects him to. Part of me wants him to. Just to call it over, y'know? It is getting late in our game for me to not speak my mind about his behaviour. If he is a lesson in letting go, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head very soon. I will be hurt, and sad, yet again... but I know this time will be easier to just walk away and say I tried. Not everyone is meant to remain in your life. He's always had a question mark.
Lion... is a different story. He'll be around with an exclamation point. Even if it's from the other side of the world for the rest of our lives.
Take solace Johnny. Take solace. You will never be important to everyone you show kindness to. It's just not possible. And the hurting will end. Like everything else.
Click on this one and dance! It's impossible to be still when this song's playing.
Janelle Monae - Tightrope
Whoaaa
Another day
I take your pain away
Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you dip it on the scene
Yeah they talkin' bout it
Cause they can't dip on the scene
Whatcha talk about it
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin' round ya
They trying to take all of your dreams
But you can't allow it
Cause baby whether you're high or low
Whether you're high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
T-t-t-tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
You got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now let me see you do the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
See I'm not walkin' on it
Or tryin' to run around it
This ain't no acrobatics
You either follow or you lead, yeah
I'm talkin' bout you,
I'll keep on blaming the machine, yeah
I'm talkin' bout it,
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
I can't complain about it
I gotta keep my balance
And just keep dancin on it
We gettin funky on the scene
And you know about it,
Like a star on the screen
Watch me tip all on it
Then baby whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Ooh, you gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby let me see you tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
Big Boi
You gotta keep your balance
Or you fall into the gap
It's a challenge but I manage
Cause I'm cautious with the strap
Doing damage to your canvas that a doctor cannot patch
See why you don't want no friction
Like the back of a matchbook
That I pass as I will forward you
And your MacBook
Clothes shows will shut you down
Before we go-go backwards
Act up, and whether we high or low
We gonna get back up
Like the Dow Jones and NASDAQ
Sorta like a thong in a ass crack,
Come on
I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers
But I'm another flavor
Something like a terminator
Ain't no equivocating
I fight for what I believe
Why you talkin' bout it
S-s-she's talkin' bout it
Some callin' me a sinner
Some callin' me a winner
I'm callin' you to dinner
And you know exactly what I mean,
Yeah I'm talkin' bout you
You can rock or you can leave
Watch me tip without you
N-N-Now whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
I'm gonna tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
MMMMMM
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
High or low
(High or low)
I got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now baby tip on the tightrope
You can't get too high
(You can't get too high)
I said you can't get too low
(We can't get too low)
Cause you get too high
(You can't get too high)
No you'll surely be low
(No, you'll surely be low)
1, 2, 3, Ho!
Yeah, yeah
Now shut up, yeah
Yeah, now put some voodoo on it
Ladies and gentlemen the funkiest horn section in Metropolis
Yeah, oh
We call that Classy Brass!
Ohhhhhhh
OH!
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
As I play the ukulele
If I play my ukulele
Just like a little lady
(Happy birthday fades to end)
Peachy called me up yesterday and we decided to hang out last night. He and his boyfriend "McMac" are good company and we had a nice time just hangin' out doing a whole lotta nothing at Peachy's place. He has a really nice apartment, and kindred that he is, he's a music fanatic, so we always have plenty to listen to or talk about. About a month ago, Peachy bought a new turntable to allow him to actually enjoy his rather sizable record collection. There's something organic and fun about listening to actual LP's, and examining the album art and enjoying an entirely different sound quality. My favourite selection of the night was INXS "Kick". Though I did enjoy being introduced to the music of Morrisey. I've never really explored his stuff. It seems wrist-slittingly honest and raw. I'm not sure how much of it would be good for my outlook on life lately. But I did like it.
Staying entirely too late for a work night is my specialty. Last night was no exception. I left at 11:45 and got home at 12:30. I then turned on my computer so I could leave Skype running for Lion to wake me at 6am like we planned. My computer was misbehaving, so I contacted the tech support that I pay for and asked them to take a look at my computer via remote. After much process and puttering around, I got to bed around 2 and awoke to the "beep beep booping" of Skype, and a smiling, mid-day-hyper Lion at 6:30.
He filled me in on some drama involving his mother's employees, and showed me some things he bought on a recent shopping trip. 2 beautiful jackets, some nice gloves and some cute character-emblazoned boot-slippers (just for women) that he scored in his size. He was giddy about the boot-slippers, and how nice and warm they were, and he started my day with joy.
Coincidentally enough, I was treated to some of his singing, and in classic Lion form... it was him proudly singing "O Canada" ...to the tune of "O Christmas Tree". It's always the first melody that comes to mind for him. Our founding fathers would laugh, and hug him for the light in his eyes and how much he wants to come back.
He's so easy to talk to.
I'm running on a mere 4-plus hours of sleep though. And I'm emotional and on-edge because I confronted Scooter this morning via text. Stuff I feel distraught and hopeless about. We're always a stone's throw from good bye it would seem. It's a stupid issue really. He sucks about text messages and I told him how it made me feel last week, and he was up to the same bullshit last night. So today I told him he's rude, and that I'm mad at him. No word from him yet. If I'm right, he'll use it as an excuse to stay away. Part of me expects him to. Part of me wants him to. Just to call it over, y'know? It is getting late in our game for me to not speak my mind about his behaviour. If he is a lesson in letting go, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head very soon. I will be hurt, and sad, yet again... but I know this time will be easier to just walk away and say I tried. Not everyone is meant to remain in your life. He's always had a question mark.
Lion... is a different story. He'll be around with an exclamation point. Even if it's from the other side of the world for the rest of our lives.
Take solace Johnny. Take solace. You will never be important to everyone you show kindness to. It's just not possible. And the hurting will end. Like everything else.
Click on this one and dance! It's impossible to be still when this song's playing.
Janelle Monae - Tightrope
Whoaaa
Another day
I take your pain away
Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you dip it on the scene
Yeah they talkin' bout it
Cause they can't dip on the scene
Whatcha talk about it
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin' round ya
They trying to take all of your dreams
But you can't allow it
Cause baby whether you're high or low
Whether you're high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
T-t-t-tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
You got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now let me see you do the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
See I'm not walkin' on it
Or tryin' to run around it
This ain't no acrobatics
You either follow or you lead, yeah
I'm talkin' bout you,
I'll keep on blaming the machine, yeah
I'm talkin' bout it,
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
I can't complain about it
I gotta keep my balance
And just keep dancin on it
We gettin funky on the scene
And you know about it,
Like a star on the screen
Watch me tip all on it
Then baby whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Ooh, you gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby let me see you tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
Big Boi
You gotta keep your balance
Or you fall into the gap
It's a challenge but I manage
Cause I'm cautious with the strap
Doing damage to your canvas that a doctor cannot patch
See why you don't want no friction
Like the back of a matchbook
That I pass as I will forward you
And your MacBook
Clothes shows will shut you down
Before we go-go backwards
Act up, and whether we high or low
We gonna get back up
Like the Dow Jones and NASDAQ
Sorta like a thong in a ass crack,
Come on
I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers
But I'm another flavor
Something like a terminator
Ain't no equivocating
I fight for what I believe
Why you talkin' bout it
S-s-she's talkin' bout it
Some callin' me a sinner
Some callin' me a winner
I'm callin' you to dinner
And you know exactly what I mean,
Yeah I'm talkin' bout you
You can rock or you can leave
Watch me tip without you
N-N-Now whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
I'm gonna tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
MMMMMM
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
High or low
(High or low)
I got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now baby tip on the tightrope
You can't get too high
(You can't get too high)
I said you can't get too low
(We can't get too low)
Cause you get too high
(You can't get too high)
No you'll surely be low
(No, you'll surely be low)
1, 2, 3, Ho!
Yeah, yeah
Now shut up, yeah
Yeah, now put some voodoo on it
Ladies and gentlemen the funkiest horn section in Metropolis
Yeah, oh
We call that Classy Brass!
Ohhhhhhh
OH!
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
As I play the ukulele
If I play my ukulele
Just like a little lady
(Happy birthday fades to end)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Be Here Now
I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned "Dr Truth" in this particular blog. I think I've written about him elsewhere, but at any rate, he's my therapist. I meet with him every 2 weeks or so, and I've been seeing him for about 3 years or more now.
Only in recent months have I felt like I'm actually exploring useful territory with him. For the longest time I thought he was a pretty cold fish. Not very emotional and certainly not as empathetic as I'd like, but he chose his career path for some reason, and because I can't afford to choose my own therapist, he'll do.
But as I said, in recent months, I've really felt like I've had nothing to lose and things to gain from just pouring my heart out to him. Why not? He gets paid to listen to me, and really, no one else in my life hears the things he hears, because I'm a ghost. Meaning, people don't know nearly as much as they think they do, and I feel quite invisible most of the time.
Today I was talking to him about how different I feel I am. And how lonely I am. And how much I miss being touched and held and hugged.
He told me perhaps it's time to start dating.
It's the first time he's ever suggested it.
Most of the time over the past few years, he's been on the side of me taking time for myself and working on my issues and removing the complications - and remaining single. Lo and behold, all it took was 4-plus months of keeping to myself for him to change his tune. And his say-so wouldn't really deter me from dating if I wanted to, so I'm kind of inclined to not let it be an encouragement to begin again at this point when I really don't think I've spent enough time alone.
How do I know?
I figure it'll be time when I don't mind being alone anymore. That is not now. 'Cause truthfully, I don't want to be alone.
I miss Lion. I know now, he's not the one for me, but he's the closest I've ever come to being happy with a romance. Had Scooter not been ever-present in my mind while Lion was in my life, I might be writing this blog from Madrid. But things are as they are, and I still need to get over Scooter, and if Lion were the love of my life things would have turned out differently.
He was a sweet, sweet, picture-perfect romance to remember when I'm withered and old.
The affections and attentions of a 24 year old Spanish boy were mine for a time.
*sigh* I'll be Skyping with Lion tomorrow morning at 6am. It'll be noon in Madrid. We still talk a lot. I miss him. He's always going to have a place in my heart. I love to hear his voice.
I miss him singing to me off-key. I remember some humid days laying on his bed in his little apartment with him on top of me singing and speaking Spanish lyrics in my ear while he played me songs he loved.
Lion is a terrible singer. He knows it too. But he knows all the words, and he always has a song in his heart, so it makes his singing a very joyous and enjoyable thing. He doesn't really sing to me over Skype.
I love to watch him. I miss hearing him speak Spanish and watching his lips move unintelligibly to the beautiful sounds that came from his mouth.
Anyhow... enough reminiscing for today. At least thinking about Lion is more fun than recounting my visit with Dr Truth.
Song of the day, a song I've taken some solace in. It's gorgeous.
Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne
Don't let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don't try
Don't let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there's a strength that lies
Don't let your soul get lonely child
It's only time, it will go by
Don't look for love in faces, places
It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness
Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now
Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall
Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now
Only in recent months have I felt like I'm actually exploring useful territory with him. For the longest time I thought he was a pretty cold fish. Not very emotional and certainly not as empathetic as I'd like, but he chose his career path for some reason, and because I can't afford to choose my own therapist, he'll do.
But as I said, in recent months, I've really felt like I've had nothing to lose and things to gain from just pouring my heart out to him. Why not? He gets paid to listen to me, and really, no one else in my life hears the things he hears, because I'm a ghost. Meaning, people don't know nearly as much as they think they do, and I feel quite invisible most of the time.
Today I was talking to him about how different I feel I am. And how lonely I am. And how much I miss being touched and held and hugged.
He told me perhaps it's time to start dating.
It's the first time he's ever suggested it.
Most of the time over the past few years, he's been on the side of me taking time for myself and working on my issues and removing the complications - and remaining single. Lo and behold, all it took was 4-plus months of keeping to myself for him to change his tune. And his say-so wouldn't really deter me from dating if I wanted to, so I'm kind of inclined to not let it be an encouragement to begin again at this point when I really don't think I've spent enough time alone.
How do I know?
I figure it'll be time when I don't mind being alone anymore. That is not now. 'Cause truthfully, I don't want to be alone.
I miss Lion. I know now, he's not the one for me, but he's the closest I've ever come to being happy with a romance. Had Scooter not been ever-present in my mind while Lion was in my life, I might be writing this blog from Madrid. But things are as they are, and I still need to get over Scooter, and if Lion were the love of my life things would have turned out differently.
He was a sweet, sweet, picture-perfect romance to remember when I'm withered and old.
The affections and attentions of a 24 year old Spanish boy were mine for a time.
*sigh* I'll be Skyping with Lion tomorrow morning at 6am. It'll be noon in Madrid. We still talk a lot. I miss him. He's always going to have a place in my heart. I love to hear his voice.
I miss him singing to me off-key. I remember some humid days laying on his bed in his little apartment with him on top of me singing and speaking Spanish lyrics in my ear while he played me songs he loved.
Lion is a terrible singer. He knows it too. But he knows all the words, and he always has a song in his heart, so it makes his singing a very joyous and enjoyable thing. He doesn't really sing to me over Skype.
I love to watch him. I miss hearing him speak Spanish and watching his lips move unintelligibly to the beautiful sounds that came from his mouth.
Anyhow... enough reminiscing for today. At least thinking about Lion is more fun than recounting my visit with Dr Truth.
Song of the day, a song I've taken some solace in. It's gorgeous.
Be Here Now - Ray LaMontagne
Don't let your mind get weary and confused
Your will be still, don't try
Don't let your heart get heavy child
Inside you there's a strength that lies
Don't let your soul get lonely child
It's only time, it will go by
Don't look for love in faces, places
It's in you, that's where you'll find kindness
Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now
Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall
Be here now, here now
Be here now, here now
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Best Keep Moving
Heaviness is all I feel today. It's remarkable how I can feel sadness like a weight and yet ignore it. It's a new skill I think. Mind you, saying I "ignore" it isn't quite succinct. I feel it. I acknowledge it. But it's almost like I say to myself, "Ok... today's a sad day... best keep moving".
I've described it in conversations before but I don't think I've ever actually written anything down about it. For me... depression is just something carried around.
Some people are really angry all the time. Some, negative. Some bitter, critical, aloof; you name it. Some people are more one mood than they are any other. I just happen to be a sad sort. Chances are, even when I'm hiding it well, there's a sadness at work in me. And it doesn't even have to be over something tangibly mood-altering. I guess that's called depression. At any rate, I feel the heaviness today. For no significant reason.
I mean, yeah, I miss Scooter. I miss Scooter all the time. I'd be with him every day for as long as I could if he wanted me to be. But I tend to think that's influenced by the fact that he doesn't want me to be. Though he does contribute to my sadness, it's not even him that's weighing on me today. I'm just plain down.
And to that I say "oh well".
My latest homework assignment for The Artist's Way, is to write a thank you letter to the champions of my creative self. I don't think I mentioned that the previous assignment was to compose a list of champions and describe how they got the title. I was supposed to come up with 3, and I stopped at 8. It took me pages of writing. And all of it, had me welling with fond memories and admiration. I may be taking this course at my own pace and doing it slow, but I have to say it's really good for drumming up gratitude, and finding pride in myself. Even when I'm trudging through hurtful things.
On another note, I (with a few other co-workers) got a tour of our new office today. The move won't be happening til the end of January or beginning of February, but it's kind of nice to get a look at where we'll be. It's going to be a shorter commute for me. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy my commute. But I guess it will be a lesson in taking the time that I need for myself from other time, and not just because I have nothing better to do. ...That or I'll have to move farther away.
Ugh... just had a huge verbal scrap with a co-worker. I overheard him picking on someone and tore a strip off him. He went back to his desk fuming, and called me to tell me that it was none of my business, so I tore another strip off him and told him how "unliked" he is in the office. I think it was news to him. The truth hurts. I've had a rotten relationship with him for years now, but I've kept my venom largely at bay. I think it's on now. And I really don't care. If there were an HR department here, I'd haul his ass. His interpersonal skills suck. That boys-club-bullshit-I'm-just-teasing attitude burns my ass. One of my co-workers (the victim of abuse) has been growing his hair for months and it's been driving him crazy. I know he's self-conscious about it, because we've talked about it, and I have to listen to this other jack-ass tease him every day. I've told him to stop, and he doesn't listen.
It amazes me how often I'm willing to charge into conflict these days. I think I'm just tired of letting people behave like assholes unaware.
Song of the day... a lil hip hop. I won't bother with the lyrics, but I do like the word-play. I apologize if it's offensive. In all honesty, I just heard it for the first time today, so I haven't listened all that closely. Jeremiah "Down on Me". I just really like it. : )
I've described it in conversations before but I don't think I've ever actually written anything down about it. For me... depression is just something carried around.
Some people are really angry all the time. Some, negative. Some bitter, critical, aloof; you name it. Some people are more one mood than they are any other. I just happen to be a sad sort. Chances are, even when I'm hiding it well, there's a sadness at work in me. And it doesn't even have to be over something tangibly mood-altering. I guess that's called depression. At any rate, I feel the heaviness today. For no significant reason.
I mean, yeah, I miss Scooter. I miss Scooter all the time. I'd be with him every day for as long as I could if he wanted me to be. But I tend to think that's influenced by the fact that he doesn't want me to be. Though he does contribute to my sadness, it's not even him that's weighing on me today. I'm just plain down.
And to that I say "oh well".
My latest homework assignment for The Artist's Way, is to write a thank you letter to the champions of my creative self. I don't think I mentioned that the previous assignment was to compose a list of champions and describe how they got the title. I was supposed to come up with 3, and I stopped at 8. It took me pages of writing. And all of it, had me welling with fond memories and admiration. I may be taking this course at my own pace and doing it slow, but I have to say it's really good for drumming up gratitude, and finding pride in myself. Even when I'm trudging through hurtful things.
On another note, I (with a few other co-workers) got a tour of our new office today. The move won't be happening til the end of January or beginning of February, but it's kind of nice to get a look at where we'll be. It's going to be a shorter commute for me. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy my commute. But I guess it will be a lesson in taking the time that I need for myself from other time, and not just because I have nothing better to do. ...That or I'll have to move farther away.
Ugh... just had a huge verbal scrap with a co-worker. I overheard him picking on someone and tore a strip off him. He went back to his desk fuming, and called me to tell me that it was none of my business, so I tore another strip off him and told him how "unliked" he is in the office. I think it was news to him. The truth hurts. I've had a rotten relationship with him for years now, but I've kept my venom largely at bay. I think it's on now. And I really don't care. If there were an HR department here, I'd haul his ass. His interpersonal skills suck. That boys-club-bullshit-I'm-just-teasing attitude burns my ass. One of my co-workers (the victim of abuse) has been growing his hair for months and it's been driving him crazy. I know he's self-conscious about it, because we've talked about it, and I have to listen to this other jack-ass tease him every day. I've told him to stop, and he doesn't listen.
It amazes me how often I'm willing to charge into conflict these days. I think I'm just tired of letting people behave like assholes unaware.
Song of the day... a lil hip hop. I won't bother with the lyrics, but I do like the word-play. I apologize if it's offensive. In all honesty, I just heard it for the first time today, so I haven't listened all that closely. Jeremiah "Down on Me". I just really like it. : )
Monday, November 08, 2010
A Slice of Sky Pie
"Be strong and do not give up. For your work will be rewarded." 2 Chronicles 15:7
I spotted this bible verse on a little card loosely affixed to the street car stop sign on Parliament street. It provoked a few thoughts in me, so I took note of it in my phone. I've taken to doing that over the past year, when I want to remember things.
My first reaction to it, was kind of warm and squishy I have to admit. Being as "Anti-Religion" as I am, it still made me think, "Aww, not everything about the bible is bad." because Hey; a little card that someone had charitably posted with some random words of encouragement for those days when you feel like nobody cares and nobody notices you. Nice.
And then, the ugly underbelly: another connotation.
"Keep preaching and trying to convert people, because there's a place in heaven for you, if you do."
Now, what could be wrong with that?
Well, the spread of ignorance for sky pie.
And I know non-Christians who know nothing of Christianity, probably wouldn't look at it that way. But non-Christians who've escaped the cult-clutches of child indoctrination and have taken the time to "think" about life and the likelihood of god(s), might be inclined (like me) to feel a sick little feeling in their stomach, at the thought of the creation of more mindless drones to follow Jesus and give their time, hearts and money to churches.
That in itself isn't bad. Churches do wonderful things in the name of Jesus.
Charitable works, and a strong sense of community and fellowship are things that the world at large could benefit from if they took a look at the way a church takes care of it's own. I just have a problem with the selection of random rules to follow telling me against my own better judgment, that my morality is wrong from a book whose origin is almost as sketchy as the thought of it's translation.
Can we learn everything we need to know about life from a book that's supposedly 2000 years old? Even if it's holy. Shouldn't what's being learned every day be added to it, and taken into account?
No. And I think yes. But purist Christian followers believe to alter anything beyond status quo is blasphemy. And so they cling to scriptures like "a man should not lay with another man", written under Levitical Law, when people were (documented) wandering a dessert and under threat of dying as a race... and let other silly Levitical Laws... like not eating shellfish, "eye for an eye", and various cleansing rituals and sacrificial practices... slide.
There's so much labeling of what's evil, and what isn't, made by people whose reality is unaffected by the reality of the groups that they're pointing fingers at.
I've had discussions with people who cite all the wonderful things about religion to me as though I don't know what they are. As someone who's escaped, I say the spread of religion is a virus. It's a crutch for those unwilling to face the reality that human beings are creatures of this planet, not far removed from all the other animals. We are unique. But I hesitate to agree with any notion that we are divine, or created by a deity. We die. We don't know what happens when we die. That is good enough for me. I don't need to be told I'll live forever, up to my pits in sky pie. And I don't think that human beings as a species have much to gain from not facing the fate we know, instead of focusing on theism and the things we don't know, but hope for.
I wish there were another way to give people hope, aside from encouraging them to forsake logic.
Religion scares me. More than anything that it does through good will, it tears down through arrogance and segregation and divisive judgment. All balled-up with the fail-safe that to believe anything else is punishable by eternal damnation. If there were a god... (s)he's wouldn't be like that. And if he/she is... would they be worthy of worship? I think not.
So even an innocuous little "encouraging" scripture leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It goes without saying that if you work hard enough at anything, eventually it should pay off in the way you want it to. That's worth remembering at least. Good intentions.
One Republic - Secrets
I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
Til' all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no
I've been on the brink, so
Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
My god, amazing how we got this far
It's like we're chasing all those stars
Who's driving shiny big black cars
And everyday I see the news
All the problems that we could solve
And when a situation rises
Just write it into an album
Singing straight, too cold
I don't really like my flow, no, so
Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
Oh, got no reason, got not shame
Got no family I can blame
Just don't let me disappear
I'mma tell you everything
So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
All my secrets away,
All my secrets away
I spotted this bible verse on a little card loosely affixed to the street car stop sign on Parliament street. It provoked a few thoughts in me, so I took note of it in my phone. I've taken to doing that over the past year, when I want to remember things.
My first reaction to it, was kind of warm and squishy I have to admit. Being as "Anti-Religion" as I am, it still made me think, "Aww, not everything about the bible is bad." because Hey; a little card that someone had charitably posted with some random words of encouragement for those days when you feel like nobody cares and nobody notices you. Nice.
And then, the ugly underbelly: another connotation.
"Keep preaching and trying to convert people, because there's a place in heaven for you, if you do."
Now, what could be wrong with that?
Well, the spread of ignorance for sky pie.
And I know non-Christians who know nothing of Christianity, probably wouldn't look at it that way. But non-Christians who've escaped the cult-clutches of child indoctrination and have taken the time to "think" about life and the likelihood of god(s), might be inclined (like me) to feel a sick little feeling in their stomach, at the thought of the creation of more mindless drones to follow Jesus and give their time, hearts and money to churches.
That in itself isn't bad. Churches do wonderful things in the name of Jesus.
Charitable works, and a strong sense of community and fellowship are things that the world at large could benefit from if they took a look at the way a church takes care of it's own. I just have a problem with the selection of random rules to follow telling me against my own better judgment, that my morality is wrong from a book whose origin is almost as sketchy as the thought of it's translation.
Can we learn everything we need to know about life from a book that's supposedly 2000 years old? Even if it's holy. Shouldn't what's being learned every day be added to it, and taken into account?
No. And I think yes. But purist Christian followers believe to alter anything beyond status quo is blasphemy. And so they cling to scriptures like "a man should not lay with another man", written under Levitical Law, when people were (documented) wandering a dessert and under threat of dying as a race... and let other silly Levitical Laws... like not eating shellfish, "eye for an eye", and various cleansing rituals and sacrificial practices... slide.
There's so much labeling of what's evil, and what isn't, made by people whose reality is unaffected by the reality of the groups that they're pointing fingers at.
I've had discussions with people who cite all the wonderful things about religion to me as though I don't know what they are. As someone who's escaped, I say the spread of religion is a virus. It's a crutch for those unwilling to face the reality that human beings are creatures of this planet, not far removed from all the other animals. We are unique. But I hesitate to agree with any notion that we are divine, or created by a deity. We die. We don't know what happens when we die. That is good enough for me. I don't need to be told I'll live forever, up to my pits in sky pie. And I don't think that human beings as a species have much to gain from not facing the fate we know, instead of focusing on theism and the things we don't know, but hope for.
I wish there were another way to give people hope, aside from encouraging them to forsake logic.
Religion scares me. More than anything that it does through good will, it tears down through arrogance and segregation and divisive judgment. All balled-up with the fail-safe that to believe anything else is punishable by eternal damnation. If there were a god... (s)he's wouldn't be like that. And if he/she is... would they be worthy of worship? I think not.
So even an innocuous little "encouraging" scripture leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It goes without saying that if you work hard enough at anything, eventually it should pay off in the way you want it to. That's worth remembering at least. Good intentions.
One Republic - Secrets
I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess
Til' all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no
I've been on the brink, so
Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
My god, amazing how we got this far
It's like we're chasing all those stars
Who's driving shiny big black cars
And everyday I see the news
All the problems that we could solve
And when a situation rises
Just write it into an album
Singing straight, too cold
I don't really like my flow, no, so
Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
Oh, got no reason, got not shame
Got no family I can blame
Just don't let me disappear
I'mma tell you everything
So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
So tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
Sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect line
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
All my secrets away,
All my secrets away
Saturday, November 06, 2010
I Search Myself, I Want You to Find Me
Hello? Universe?
I'd like to know some really great sex please.
Healthy, uninhibited, confident, fun, sex with a man who keeps me in the moment, and thinks I'm just as amazingly attractive as I find him.
Please, no lazy, narcissistic douche-bags, only interested in their own gratification, and no guys who will hurt me.
I suppose those are redundant parameters. But in the name of being careful what I wish for, I just thought I'd be concise.
Masturbation is fun, but it'd be nice to be touched by someone ...who's not me.
I'd like to know some really great sex please.
Healthy, uninhibited, confident, fun, sex with a man who keeps me in the moment, and thinks I'm just as amazingly attractive as I find him.
Please, no lazy, narcissistic douche-bags, only interested in their own gratification, and no guys who will hurt me.
I suppose those are redundant parameters. But in the name of being careful what I wish for, I just thought I'd be concise.
Masturbation is fun, but it'd be nice to be touched by someone ...who's not me.
Friday, November 05, 2010
I'm Like This Sometimes
I got the letter "from me" "to me" in the mail today. And an interesting thing happened: I typed it out to share, and then realized it truly was just for me. There was something very affirming about the process and the decision.
If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.
Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.
Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.
I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.
I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.
July 24, 2010
No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.
May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".
Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.
Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.
.....
It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.
My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.
If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.
Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.
Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.
I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.
I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.
July 24, 2010
No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.
May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".
Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.
Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.
.....
It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.
My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Ever Dance with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight?
I always ask that of all my prey.And here's the proof that I was indeed a Vampire Slayer for Halloween. Sweet PJ sent me the pictures today. Despite my ponch, I think I look pretty damned butch. And really... what an amazing setting for photographs. That would be one of the reasons why PJ is such a good photographer.
Fun stuff, this vampire slaying. Though those stakes are sparkling clean even now.
Truthfully I wouldn't have the heart to kill anything. Even if it was undead.
I do miss wearing the mascara and eye liner. I need an excuse to do that again.
Balls Harvey
Before I start in on my real thoughts...
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.
Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.
We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)
Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.
This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)
"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.
Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.
We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)
Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.
This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)
"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Heartsblood and Letters to Yourself
I addressed and mailed a letter to myself today. Like actual snail mail, in an envelope with glue and a stamp and a dirty Canada Post box and everything.
Entertaining huh?
It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.
I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.
At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.
I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.
This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*
Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".
He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.
Another Scooter song.
"How" by Maroon 5.
I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh
Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh
I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?
Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?
And how?
How?
But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
Entertaining huh?
It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.
I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.
At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.
I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.
This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*
Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".
He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.
Another Scooter song.
"How" by Maroon 5.
I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh
Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh
I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?
Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?
And how?
How?
But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
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