The joys of an anxiety attack.

There is nothing like being on the edge of one's tether. Work has been hellish. A new position with no more money and a lot more headaches. No computer to release stress with. No one to have sex with to release stress. I am irritable, lonely and fed up. The last time I felt this way I almost ran away from home, as a grown up. The art class is wonderful, but exhausting. Running is still good but it can't be the only form of release or I will burn out. Tears have been close all day, and probably will rear their ugly heads during the run tonight. I loath this. I wish the shit would just hit the fan, so I can deal with the aftermath instead of anticipating it.

Melted crayon soup (A thought on SARK) .....http://www.planetsark.com/

I was reading SARK today, and it made me realize how simple yet complex art can be. Some dismiss her as being annoyingly upbeat and positive. Yet in our very jaded and cynical world, I wish there were more like her. She is vivid and alive and very much imperfect. Dammit, I am sick of living in the real world most times. I love escapism. There is not enough whimsy, silliness, encouragement, and bright colors. SARK embraces the glorious, imperfect parts of women/artists and makes it safe to be both. She covers everything from birth to love to death and beyond death, fearlessly. She also has shared her demons, family and relationship. Art does not have to be a matter of slitting a wrist for blood to paint or write with. The view of art is torture is obsolete: technology takes some of the pain out of the creative process. And yet, SARK's books are wonderfully low tech, appearing to be hand made to give to a friend. The point I am making is this: art should be joyous and playful, as well as intimate and deep. SARK satisfies a need in me to hear that it is ok to be scared, or uninspired, or just plain stumped. There is an encouragement to it. I drink her works up like a melted crayon soup: warm and nourishing and fun to swoosh around.

Sigh

Well day two has come and gone without the computer at home. I read awhile and went out with the parental units to shop. The amazing thing is that I am hurt that he took my source to the outside world, not that the relationship is over.The past two weeks have been serene up to yesterday. I feel strong. I also feel isolated from the rest of the world. Maybe the computer being gone is a good thing for a while, so I can reconnect with humanity.

Trouble

Dan rang the bell on my back door. I go down, thinking it was a neighbor, and I didn't see him behind the door. I open it, he brushes past me. My apartment door is open so he walks in, walks to my desk and proceeds to unhook the tower and walk out the apartment with it. Thus, I no longer have a computer. It was punishment, you see. I hadn't talked to him in 16 days. He emailed me at work, saying it was a pity for our friendship to end this way. I proceeded to tell him what I have blogged..I need someone who will have enough respect for me to tell me if he wants others, and not treat me like second best. Then I told him we would still be friends, but never again lovers. That probably was what set him off. So, I have no computer and no recourse to get it back. I am at work now, having to change my passwords. I had hoped we could be adults about this, but apparently not. I will try to blog as much as I can till I figure out a way to replace the one that'ss gone.

Why is the concept of polyamory so distorted?

I want to share a thought with everyone about Polyamory. Just because I chose not to have a committed relationship with only one person does not mean I will fuck just anyone. It is a myth that poly's aren't discriminating with their choice of partners: that's people who swing. I have known a poly triad for years that have stayed with each other for over 30 years. They love each other in the group, not half the city. I get IMs all the time from guys who think I am an easy target because I believe you can LOVE more than one person at a time. My goal is eventually find the ONE person to share my life with, but my life has different facets and needs. One partner might offer an intellectual challenge; one might be there just for mindblowing sex. Sometimes I just need someone to brush the hair from my face when I am sick, or just sleep beside me and talk about scifi. The human soul has many facets, and to expect one person to be everything to another person is unrealistic. If Dan had said that he needed other things from other people, and respected the fact I needed that too, we might still be together. Instead, he expected me to sit and wait in loneliness until he had time for me between other women, and for me to be there when the other women shit on him. I needed more, and started not caring at all about him or what he did. Warning to all people who interact with me: I am a passionate person, and feel deeply for those I love and trust. When I quit caring, then I will never turn back.
What it boils down to is intimacy. At one time I did go on a sleeping around rampage, after my husband died. I was dead and the interactions were dead. I fucked around to feel and grew even number. The truth is I do not know if I will ever be able to truly connect as deeply as I did with another man as I did with my husband for fear of enormous loss. To place my feelings with more than one person for different needs softens the blow of possible loss. As long as my partners are honest about who they see as I am about who I see, all is well. It all boils down to respect.

My artistic reawakening

My first session of my sculpture class was tonight. The class is small, only 10 people, whereas the other sections have over 30 people each. The professor has taught and exhibited overseas and nationally, and I am impressed with his viewpoint. The goal of the class, he says, is to make us feel like professional artists instead of students, so much so he says that the 4 projects we are to do will be a high enough quality to be sale worthy. That, and the fact that there will be sketching, add to the intimidation factor. I got a C in my first drawing class ( the professor was a bitch), I have not had enough life drawing practice in years. I am thinking about going to the open life drawing studios held on Sundays at the art school, 5 bucks and I can draw for hours. We have to draw our ideas to flesh them out, and I have an inferiority complex on my drawing. You can paint well and not be able to draw a straight line. So the challenge to my preconceived artistic notions will be a wonderful experience. It also is an 8 hour a week class, so I will be forced to work art back into my daily life, WOOHOO!! All art is done by discipline as well as skill. This will be an expensive growing experience, but it will be well worth the expense.

more thoughts on the perfect man LOLOL

I have looked all over the place,
But you have got my favorite face.
Your eyelashes sparkle like gilded grass
and your lips are sweet and slippery
Like a cherub's bare wet ass ...

'Cause you're a human supernova,
A solar superman.
You're an angel with wings of fire,
A flying, giant friction blast.

You walk in clouds of glitter
and the sun reflects your eyes.
And every time the wind blows,
I can smell you in the sky.
Your kisses are as wicked as an F-16
And you fuck like a volcano
and you're everything to me...

'Cause you're a human supernova,
A solar superman
You're an angel with wings of fire,
A flying, giant friction blast
You're a giant, flying friction blast

'Cause you're a human supernova,
A solar superman,
You're an angel with wings of fire,
A flying, giant friction blast ...

--liz phair---

Bitching about the bitching...

Will someone please tell Russia that paranoia is no way to run a sports program? I am sick of the petty crap the Russian Gymnastic team is bitching about, especially Svetlana Khorkina. She once was a great gymnast; she's no slouch now, but past her prime. She has always choked in Olympic competition, in the last THREE. Instead of gracefully counting her blessings that she did as well as she did, she's whining to whom ever will listen. The Diva needs to get a grip. I watched her compete. I don't claim to be an expert, but she was sloppy, even I saw that. Sorry Svetlana honey, I'm not buying your pity party. The South Koreans had a legitimate complaint, there was messy judging, which may or may not have cost them a gold. I watched Paul Hamm's performance: he earned every ounce of that gold. The Olympics are judged by humans. Judgment by nature is biased to the opinion of the judge. There will always be disgruntled athletes. Life isn't fair.
The bigger problem with Russia is that their former Soviet Sports Machine is nothing but ashes now. The country is crumbling. And even though Putin is now concentrating on rebuilding, the Russian program has been in decline for years. They didn't build Rome in a day; it will take a while to restart. I am reminded by all this by the last winter games. Russia did they same thing, griping about the judges being biased. Then they had a point. The Ice judges were caught red handed cheating, but that affected the Canadian team, not the Russian.
I would have a lot more respect for the Russian team if they would put all this energy complaining into their program. Who knows how much better they would get?

Cowboy politics

I just finished a chat session with my friend Colin. Colin has almost 20yrs in the military, and 4 combat tours. He is also the most conservative, closed minded, Bush supporter I know. We never are able to agree to disagree on the state of our government. I am liberal to the point of being leftist. The state of our country's union appalls me. And yet, even after Bush sent Colin to Mosul for a year to dodge bullets ( he is in charge of Chinook helicopter maintainence), he still thinks Bush rocks. Even if the reason he was over there was a lie. I admire people with unwavering, concrete strong faith in anything. I just wish Colin's faith could be in something more deserving of his sacrifice.

magnetic poetry playhouse.

I.

absurd masterpiece
made
wild, free
passion
scream.

II.

when passion
screams,
know there
are
shards.

III.

I mount
our metaphor,
electric mess:
art, rhythm,
balance.

CONGRATS DEENA KASTOR!!!!!

Most don't know that I am a marathon nut. I love it and hope to run someday(yes I am insane). It is no big secret that the US women hasn't won a marathon metal since Joan Benoit went gold in 1984, until now. I would like to congratulate Denna Kastor for her bronze metal. Most would not think that special..It is. Kenya dominates both men's and women's distance running, so for us to do so well is a delight. I have no idea what happened to Paula Radcliff, the British world record holder..She self destructed at mile 23. Not to say she wimped out, this was the original route of the marathon (as close as they could get). The first person to run it dropped dead at the end, Pheidippides. This modern course is listed in Runners World as one of the toughest in the world. Mizuki Noguchi of Japan won the gold (she came in 2nd at the world championships last year), and Catherine Ndereba of Kenya won the silver (last years world champion and winner of Boston a few times). There was a time where it was thought women could not physically run the distance, and we didn't have a women's marathon till 1984. I applaud all the women who had the nerve, talent, and skill to participate. GO GIRLS!!!

Quote alert !!!

"One does not discover new lands
without consenting to loose sight of the shore
for a very long time."
-- Andre Gide--

more thoughts on love..

We've got all night, let's take our time
Tell me your secrets, I'll tell you mine
When it makes us feel better, call it love

You say you won't, I say you will
You make me crazy, but I want you still
When it makes us feel better, call it love

Chorus:
Do we tell the truth, or do we live a lie
Is the feeling good, is that what makes you cry
When you say those words, look me in the eye
Tell me why you call it love

I play my hand, you call my bluff
We push each other, 'til we've had enough
When it's all you've got, call it love

If I didn't have money, would you want me still
When you look real close, do we fit the bill
Call it what you want, but only time will tell

(chorus)

(Solo)

(chorus)

We've got all night, let's take our time
Tell me your secrets, I'll tell you mine
When it makes us feel better, call it love

Call it love, call it love, call it love
When it's all you've got, call it love
---POCO--1989

Why must love be so screwed up.

First things first: the dry spell is over sexually. It was over due, and worth the wait..That all I am saying. Later I talked to a friend who's girlfriend is a freak, so he and I shared weird ex stories.
This led me to pondering about what attracts us to others in the first place. Are we flawed in the first place to attract people not good for us? Is there some innate need to fall for trolls? My friend's story just led me to remember all the bad choices I've made the past two years. What attracted me to someone like Dan, who was not healthy for me? Chemistry is a strange thing. My husband was pleasant looking, but I wasn't attracted to him physically at first. The fact is that what I found sexy years ago
really hasn't changed much at all, except I am more realistic now. I have a thing for dark hair and gorgeous (normally light colored) eyes. No one I grew up with looked this way for it to influence my preferences; most of my family are red heads with brown eyes. Do we naturally want the opposite of us, physically and personality wise? I happen to love artistic, extremely funny-smart men. No one like that in my childhood.
So where did it come from?
There is a theory that we either look for people like we want to be; or, people who will complete us. I have a problem with the latter theory. We will never cure this wanting the unrealistic until we as humans realize we are already complete in ourselves. How can a man complete me if he is a separate entity with a different background, preferences, and personality. I happen to like who I am, and consider myself whole. I do want someone to be with, a companion on the trip of life. But, I want a person who is whole in himself and not a doormat. The idea about wanting someone with characteristics we want to have or be makes a bit more sense. I believe you can be a separate person and want to improve oneself. Dating another artist would improve my skills, and let me live in the artistic world. Even if we are individuals, others preferences rub off. I didn't appreciate fine food until I married a Chef. Dan taught me all I know about computers. Did I sublimate my personality and disappear
into the other? With Dan I did and I'm glad I have found my footing again.
SOOOO..I assume that we stumble along in the dark and love who we love and hope for the best.

The Woodland Arts Fair..A review and why it drove me NUTS

I just got back from Woodland Park for their annual arts and crafts fair. The list of different mediums was staggering: woodworking, ceramics, painting, sculpture, photography, jewelry, fabric arts....It went on forever. People who know me can tell you I am a crafts fair junkie. Woodland Park's is one of the best in the region. The thing that was bad is that I went broke, 9 bucks to my name. Jewelry booths were as far as the eye can see, and I could only drool. I could also wistfully wish I was a vendor. That is my ultimate dream: to have an art business full time, with my sculpture or paintings. Travel and people and actually feeling like an artist, that's my dream and I could only watch it. I swear I will do that. One day.
The other thing that drove me crazy was some of the patrons there. Women in their 50's and 60's bogarting the jewelry stands. I know they are the ones with the money and gold card, but I wanted to actually speak to the artists. These women would stand there, try on half the booth then walk on. I just wanted to get close enough to
see the workmanship. Jewelry making is a secret passion I don't tell with many others about. The reason I wanted to get close to the artists is that sometimes they take apprentices. It was a busy day, good for them but bad for me. I did see some amazing work, and hope to go back tomorrow.

my fave rocky horror song

Dr. Frank-N-Furter
How do you do
I see you've met my faithful handyman
He's just a little brought down because
When you knocked
He thought you were the candyman
Don't get strung out by the way I look
Don't judge a book by its cover
I'm not much of a man by the light of day
But by night
I'm one hell of a lover
I'm just a sweet transvestite
From Transexual, Transylvania
Let me show you around, maybe play you a sound
You look like you're both pretty groovy
Or if you want something visual
That's not too abysmal
We could take in an old Steeve Reeves movie
Brad Majors :
I'm glad we caught you at home
Could we use your phone?
We're both in a bit of a hurry
Janet Weiss:
Right!
Brad Majors:
We'll just say where we are
Then go back to the car
We don't want to be any worry
Dr. Frank-N-Furter:
Well you got caught with a flat
Well how 'bout that
Well babies don't you panic
By the light of the night
It'll all seem alright
I'll get you a Satanic mechanic
I'm just a sweet transvestite
From Transexual, Transylvania
Why don't you stay for the night
Or maybe a bite
I could show you my favorite obsession
I've been making a man
With blonde hair and a tan
And he's good for relieving my tension
I'm just a sweet transvestite
From Transexual, Transylvania
Hit it! Hit it!
I'm just a sweet transvestite
Chorus
Sweet Transvestite!
Dr. Frank-N-Furter
From Transexual
Chorus
Transylvania
Dr. Frank-N-Furter
So come up to the lab
And see what's on the slab
I see you shiver with antici...pation
But maybe the rain
Isn't really to blame
So I'll remove the cause
But not the symptom

-Richard O'Brien 1973-

Speaking of seclusion

The old lover who has exotic tastes in sex once again asked me if I wanted to fuck him tonight. I lied and said I was going out with friends to the bars ( I am broke). Why I felt the need to lie I don't know. I want intimacy but not with him? I want a fresh start with others? I am sitting here pondering what the hell is wrong with me. Maybe the seclusion IS getting to me. I love my privacy now; maybe I'm not ready to give it up.

A long line of ditz.

I looked out the window at work and saw a long line of shapes dressed in white, covered in umbrellas. It took me a few minutes to remember today was pledge day for the sororities. So there they all were walking across campus in a herd, all fake tans and suicide blonde, in their little white dresses. LOL I have no idea why it bugged me so much. Jealousy probably. I never had it so easy at that age to do such things as frothy as pledging. These girls were beautiful, if artificially so, with money and prospects and opportunities I had no access to at their age. There was no individuality in this group, just a snaking line of white. So I suppose I was lucky. I earned my wisdom and sexiness with hard knock experience. I am not unattractive at 33; I've been told I don't look my age. It is probably the seclusion wearing on my nerves. I know I will never be young again. So I suppose it comes down to the classic adage that age and treachery overcomes youth and skill. And I like the part about being in the former group....

What I want in a person..Part II

I just chatted with a friend who has had a horrible breakup, from a woman unworthy of him. He is hurting, no question. For the first time, I tried to sit with his pain and not fix it. It isn't as easy as it sounds. Humans have this need to not hurt, and keep others from feeling pain. I am a fixer; I would wrap everyone in bubblewrap if I could. As I talked to this friend, jack popped in. His take on this is that you cannot protect anyone from pain. Pain is what you use to grow with. jack claims that a person has to be cut so they know not to play with knives in the first place.
So it leads back to what I said a few posts ago about fear, and fear of connecting with others. Just like pain, fear must be experienced and gone though to be transcended. I had to endure horrific pain for almost two years to survive my husband's death. Now I have to endure fear. Not run from it: sit with it, hold it's hand, even feed it if need be. In The Invitation, Oriah Mountain Dreamer speaks of wanting a person who can sit with pain, and endure fear. This is why I love this poem.If I found a man who could fit this poem, my pretenses of polyamory would fly right out the window. Then when I try to sit with others pain, it could be from a place of peace instead of commiseration.

what I want in a person..a checklist part I

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

© Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Invitation published by HarperSanFrancisco, 1999

The joys and sorrows of not driving

My back hurts, my legs are rubbery, and today was a rest day with no running. Thus it only means one thing: I just got back from Kroger. I am going to admit a secret so deep that adults gasp when I admit it: I never learned to drive. So what would ordinarily be a routine trip for most is and ordeal to me. I walk to the store ( I walk everywhere actually),shop, then wait for the taxi to take me to the apartment. Then, I lug all my stuff to my attic studio, equaling about 3 stories. See, I don't have to exert myself after that.
Why did I never learn to drive? My mom tried to teach me and scared me to death at age 16. Then I met my husband years later who LOVED to drive, so I never had to worry about it. Dan offered to teach me but never got around to it..Half joking that if I learned, I'd be free to travel to see other people. Tonight's trip was the first without Dan's help in a month. We haven't spoken in one week as of today. I'm not sad about it though. I feel strong and independent and free for the first time in many months. I like my own company--no remote control battles. Am I never lonely? Hell yes I am lonely every day, but I usually just sit with the feeling and it eases away.
I have reached the 30's hormonal surge that women hit. I could use all the intimacy I can get..But I haven't had sex in two weeks. The point hasn't been reached to where I'm picking up men in bars. I am biding my time, knowing that Aphrodite will send the right kind of men my way when I am ready for them. For now, I just stay in the moment and try not to get carpal tunnel from my own "company".
And what does this all have to do with not knowing how to drive? Easy. Not having a man in my life now is like not driving-there are hassles and times of frustration, but when the end (or climax) has been reached, I always feel better.

words from jack

when i hear my name i want to disappear
when i hear my name i want to disappear
oh oh oh oh
when i see my face i want to disappear
when i see my face i want to disappear
oh oh oh oh
-jack-

pain pain go away

Im sitting here playing hookie from work, nursing the leftover of a migraine. I never used to get these as a child; like all my other ailments they found me grown up. So I sit here it the darkness of my apartment/batcave, just trying to figure out the universe as usual. I ponder being a better witch, studying more. I have an inner dialog with jack about my faults and regrets, which he always tells me dont really matter, since I can't change faults or fix regrets. jack says I have nothing to go to the mountaintop for so quit moping, its just the headache. My husband will dead 2 years Sept. 9. I realize I have come a tremendous way in two years. There is really nothing to complain about, my life is good, dare I say, almost balanced. Ravels bolereo is swaying in my ears, just finished Aaron copelands rodeo, I need to download Tchaikovsky. I am listless and need to lie down.
And the days without talking to dan are now up to 5..

a diatribe on love and pot smoking

I have come to the conclution that my anti depressants aren't working anymore and that I will have to adjust them. That will fuck up my whole system, but it will mean I can get on birth control again. To explain: birth control with hormones are not a pretty mix with someone who's depression is caused in some part by hormonal shifts. Thus, if my meds aren't working well and I'm on BC pills..I tend to go psychopathic. So new meds might fix it. However I digressed from the subject. Right now I am stoned, not out of my mind, but comfy and numb. Now normally I don't smoke nearly as much as I want; I normally average a joint every two months, if I am lucky. I'm what you would call a cheap date, my drug and alcohol tollerace is nil. Proudly I can state that right now after a bowl full and a rum and sprite in my glass, I am hammered. So when I am toasted I can think about my love life with no feelings of killing rampage (jack is hysterical: he knows that I could not be violent unless REALLY provoked, ask Dan :P). Where we are right now, to catch you up: Dan is treating me like a consolation prize if his other women don't want him. He pissed me off royally on wed., so I haven't spoke a word to him in 4 days. That's the longest I've gone without talking to him in about 4 months. Most of me rejoices. The small, helpless part of my psyche is crying: she will have to deal. I am now ready to spin out of his orbit and go exploring. I am scared out of my skull. Now I actually have to interact with others. Dan might be a cheating jerk, but at least he was there and didn't have to work for it. I suppose I took him for granted that he was safe now and I could release my heart from the safety seat kept it in around him. However, I didn't get as vunerable as I did the last time. my problem is that I'm scared, that simple. I'm a Cancer by sign, so I love my little shell to be really snug to keep everyone else out. Yet I am often lonely as hell. I need friends. I want lovers who I can at least give the benefit of the doubt till he fucks up eventually. But how the hell do I let myself open up ?(anyone with suggestions, please feel free to comment PLEASE!)
Now jack would be perfect. jack is shaking his head and rolling his eyes, our relationship goes beyond such banalties as romance or friendship. jack is part of my subconscious and soul. Having him steal the covers in bed with me at night wouldn't bother me one bit either. This is where the pot is a good thing..I can see him clearer now
than at most other times. he is my comfort.

spiritual exhaustion and intimacy...

I got an interesting offer tonight from an old lover, who, as you could say, has exotic sexual tastes. I am lonely and out of sorts, but really do not want to see him again. I'm actually torn. This old lover has means (excellent pot he can afford), but is selfish in bed. I laugh at myself because I want to explore the polyamory side of me, just not with lovers from my past. jack thinks I'm cracked: love is love, he says, take whats offered and enjoy the benefits. I disagree. Sex is a wonderful, powerful experience but it should make you feel better than you did afterward, not worse. This is how I felt with this lover: drained and unsatisfied afterwards. I saw him because he liked things in bed that I had never done before, and I saw a side of myself I didn't know existed. But I always felt worse emotionally afterwards. There was no benefit, besides weird experiences and a good buzz. I need to find a new lover, or two, that makes me feel wonderful from just spending time with them, not just fucking (though I am no prude..I have had adventures of my own). I suppose I need intimacy. Intimacy doesn't have to engulf you in chains like many think it does. It has alot to do with this notion of "friends with benefits" that is going around now. The kind of intimacy I need is just being touched by a man without having my cervix ripped out with hard fucking without even a kiss (Dan's version of sex). I really have trouble putting it into words. Here's an example: when John was sick, we never had sex for the last year of his life. However, just holding him quietly and feeling his warmth fill me was in alot of ways more satisfying than intercourse. It all comes down to allowing ones self to be vunerable, which takes a hellova lot of trust. And I'm pitifully short of trust with anyone from the past two years that I had sex with. I am the kind of woman who trusts untill givien a reason not to: and when it is broken it never heals. Maybe that's why I need new men in my life..new men have the benefit of the doubt, until they fuck up. This is very likely reason I seek jack so much astrally, I can control the interactions to a degree. And since he has access to my mind the work of "getting to know you" is not necessary. Thus, intimacy, at least mentally.
And the only intimacy I am getting now is from my own company. I think I'm going to get carpal tunnel from the masterbation...lol. I did ask my patroness Hecate for guidance through another transition in my life.

projection

What is it about humans that makes us feel the need to project onto another person? We can't seem to be able to accept each other as we are: we just see what we think we want to see from another person. If we can't change each other, we just project what we think is perfect and never see the real soul. jack talked about this the other night in meditation. If you could use all that energy, energy that people waste on making their lovers an idealized fantasy rather than the real person, nothing could stop us. Many could argue that I do this with jack, seeing that I probably will never meet the real person. My meditations with him are different. Instead of wasting energy in the projection of what I think he is, I absorb the energy raised by how he makes me feel during the interaction. Who knows, maybe the real Jack feels the energy and doesn't know where it comes from. The astral jack makes me feel safe and special and it does no harm in my mind and heart. When my day overloads, and I don't think I can see another grad student or check one more dissertation , all I have to do is go into alpha and my astral jack is there to guide me through it. In some ways I think he does use my energy. He is welcome to it.

Ramblings from Grey

Grey is a old friend from high school that sends me timely things just at the point where I am about to go postal. This is his latest inspiration:

The Farmer, The Donkey & The Well

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried
piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally,
he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up
anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a
shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey
realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's
amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was
astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the
donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step
up.

As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal,
he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed
as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted
off!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to
getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our
troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by
not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.


Remember these five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred - ! Forgive.

2. Free your mind from worries - Most never happen.

3. Live simply and appreciate what you have.

4. Give more.

5. Expect less

NOW Enough of that crap .. .

The donkey later came back and bit the shit out of the farmer who had
tried to bury him. The gash from the bite got infected, and the farmer
eventually died in agony from septic shock.

MORAL FROM TODAY'S LESSON:

When you do something wrong and try to cover your ass, it almost always
comes back to bite you.

My 15th high school reunion...YIKES http://mcweb.martin.k12.ky.us/schs/

8 days ago I got to see people I hadn't seen in 15 years, my old high school class mates. I missed my 10th reunion because I was in Oregon and not Kentucky. Of course I went into it scared shitless and having all the high school paranoias and wounds opened up. Then I got there and was shocked but shouldn't have been. Everyone was older, wiser, fatter, and more human than 1989. I was surprised on the baldness of the guys I thought were so hot then; and the guys who were average then who found hotness in the passing years (yep that's you Wilbo and Henderson!!). The cheerleaders who ignored me were hugging me like a lost sister. And finally, some of my puberty sexual fantasies were finally realized: two big high school studs actually hugged and talked with me for a while. Sigh. So I feel that I healed quite a bit last weekend, like that part of my life is closed FINALLY.

I am finally an athlete

I lost my mind and finally participated in my first 5K last night. I finished in the top 2600..not bad for a 5000 people race. came home intending to smoke a celebratory joint, but collapsed from exhaustion the natural way. I want to use this blog to thank Scott Clark. He was a roommate and good friend in the early 90's, as well as a marathon runner. This guy could eat 6000 calories in a day just to keep his energy going. For thirteen years I have wanted to have his energy, determination, and discipline. It is only now that I found it. The race wasn't pretty, but I made it. And for Dan, who even though admitted to seeing 2 other women besides me (:P)walked half way though the race with me--thank you too.