quite unlike a sudden inspiration

if there's one thing about fear, it freezes the marrow.

if there's one thing about Fear, it's that Fear is its own creature. it sneaked up behind me from the darkness and hitched a ride upon my own shadow, keeping well out of the light. it crept up the backs of my thighs, gathered itself at the base of my spine and slithered its slow way up the crevice in the middle of my back, leaving a chill so deep i never thought i'd be warm again.

black and amorphous, Fear slinked to the nape of my neck and snaked tendrils like arms around my throat. "i have you," it whispered into my soul. the chill frosted my spine until i huddled there, trying to get warm and failing.

"can you hear me, my love?" it rasped, and by those words conquered my hearing. thus would any words spoken to me be tainted by Fear's whisper. laughter seemed dull then, and friendly words sparked insecurity and defensive rages.

it laughed, a low and throaty rattle like an angered raven.

it spread its hands down my chest and across my belly, its long fingers disjointed and uneven. its touch was wet and filthy, like the bottom of some deep and polluted river, the mud slimy with the bodies of things long dead and rotten and chilled with its eons of secrets. it spread across my belly and sank beneath my skin. i would have gagged in revulsion at the intimately filthy violation as i felt it spread within me, but the touch froze my stomach and stopped my heart.

"can you feel me?" the words scratched like dry leaves over stone, and i felt the reverberations in my whole body. "me, and only me?" thus and thus it numbed me, for i could feel no touch made in warmth or friendship. i longed for something to break through the numbness, but Fear had my spine, my heart and my gut, and i was paralyzed to anything save what it wanted me to feel. it posessed my ears as well, and could hear no thing but that it was tainted by Fear.

those chilling fingers crept inexorably upwards within me and took possession of my voice and tongue. no words would be enough save that they cut and chilled the way Fear cut the heart and chilled the marrow.

the chilling embrace was complete then, spreading upward into my thoughts and outward to my limbs. it caressed me from without and within, and like the puppet i now was, i could not even shudder in my sickened revulsion unless it wished me to. oh, wise and clever Fear, how genius you are!

how clever. how wise. in war, the first maneuver in disabling your enemy is to cut off all communication. why else would you send chills up and down the spine first? it is, after all, the information superhighway of the body. body frozen, the mind may race as wildly as it pleases, while you have all the time you wish to take to devour your prey piece by mortified piece.

oh wise Fear, it is too unfortunate for you that you are so vulnerable, for all your vaunted strength and cunning. for by one thought, one realization, one drop of Love, your spell is broken.

i will not say i have vanquished you. oh no. you and i have faced one another upon this battlefield far too many times for me to believe you conquered for good. for you, this is merely setback. for me, it is freedom.

until the next time i must face you...


rainbow dreams

this week's rainbow dreams is brought to you by the triple goddess tarot, wellsprings, and the number 13.

who knows how long i slept in my bed of earth, of Earth, somewhere beneath the vast grounds of the Menstrual Temple? the voice had not spoken to me in a great while, but there was no sense of time there. i was becoming, it had said.

i could hear the creeping things in the soil, their plodding and twisting, turning over the earth. i could feel the other subterran denizens of the Temple in their dens and holes, digging and crawling, feeding their young. the roots of the green and growing things creaked and plucked and sighed as the crawling things' constant toil fed them and they grew into grass, flowers, creepers, and the great trees of the Temple forest.

there was no sight in the damp darkness, no taste but that of earth, no breath. and yet i knew i still lived, nourished from head to toe by this most intimate connection with the sacred soil of the Temple grounds. the great thrumming, the slow and throbbing beat of the very heart of the world beat within me, my heart kept its time and thus I did not die. i was of Those Who Bleed But Do Not Die, the priestess had said.

however long i lay inside my resting place, there was the pain of my injuries. and the pain of healing. for an eternity it blocked out all sound, all sense of my neighbors deep in the earth, all awareness of that great Heartbeat keeping me in its rhythm. there was only pain.

but it lessened. thought returned slowly, and i became aware of other things. it was an irritating distraction, a burden which interfered with my rest. i hated it! i but wanted it gone, i wanted to sleep! i longed for an oblivion which would sweep away all thought of what had brought me there, the aches and anguish and frustrated desires that had seemed so overwhelming before the pomegranate priestess had rent my chest and gashed my heart open.

but perhaps...


...perhaps she had only made manifest an injury already present. i could not think the sisterhood relished violence. and yet...they were the presence of the vulture goddess on earth, their voice the Voices of the destroyer and bandit queen. blood, thievery, and death were their trade if it furthered the cause. the Mother is as harsh and hurting as She is kind and nurturing.

i learned to grow tired of the pain's constant presence within me, and then annoyed, and finally resigned.

it was only after i had accepted its presence like an old friend did it begin to teach me things.

it was a great tool to focus the mind, and soon i had learned to reach beyond my immediate surroundings and could touch with my thoughts the borders of the vast grounds of the Temple. i learned the boundaries of my endurance, and how to stretch them. i learned to go within it, within the pain itself, until it did not exist. i learned to go without, so it did not exist.

i learned it was a choice when to feel it, if to feel it, and when to let it guide me. but never to let it rule me. i learned a love as for a great teacher, harsh and wise, and was grateful for its presence. it helped me keep my thoughts centered, no matter how far i traveled by my mind.

i suppose you think you are great and wise now, little dragon.

i had not heard the voice in eons, or what seemed eons. perhaps, i replied. i am greater and wiser than once i was.

foolish, perhaps, but not greater, it said in a bored voice. only a fool thinks the greatest teacher is pain. any tiresome bore, a media-brainwashed automoton can summon the insipid courage to peer into the abyss. but it takes a freaking genius with a fearless imagination to peer into the maw of happiness! do so!

there was the unmistakable sense of being smacked upside the head, however disembodied the voice and i were at the time. what? i--

come! say it. how do you satisfy happiness?

i had no answer.

how do you satisfy your sense of adventure?

i...that is...

it scoffed. how do you satisfy the sacred uproar? the very revolutionary freedom fight going on right now? the Divine Wow within your very breast?!

i could only stammer.

how do you satisfy the muse in your heart?

i was baffled.

when you can answer this, little dragon, then ask yourself if you feel wiser.



CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): Last November, Major League Baseball announced that New York Mets' pitcher Guillermo Mota had tested positive for steroids and would therefore be suspended for 50 games at the beginning of the new season. A month later, the Mets signed Mota to a new, two-year $5 million dollar contract, despite knowing that his recent accomplishments on the baseball field had almost certainly been inflated by the steroids' boost. I foresee a comparable scenario unfolding in your life, Capricorn. You'll be rewarded in the wake of a penalty or limitation that was imposed on you, and the gain will outstrip the loss. It may even be the case that the good coming your way will be related to or aided by the "bad" thing you did.

okay, i'm still scratching my head on this one. if it's obvious to others, please, dear beauty and truth fans, please help!

i'm chafing under many limitations and penalties right now, some of which have been shackles around my ankle for years. some of these limitations make me scream inside with frustration and hopelessness. it feels like i'm alone in all the world, like i'm the first to ever feel something like this. i know i'm not, but that wasn't the point. it's how it feels to me.

i fear that the gain mr. brezsny's talking about here won't manifest unless i draw it to myself. of course, pronoiac that i am, i know that if i believe that, it's how it will come to pass. because i have made it so. however, the road grows ever steeper, my heart ever darker, and the Funk is still nowhere to be found. my fear has taken on a life of its own, and all it seems to do in its driven instinct is hurt everyone around it and run. except i can't run because i've grown out of that habit.

and the person dearest to my heart only sees my fear reaction as a personal attack and so attacks me right back. i'm always a hairsbreadth from collapsing into sobs, and the slightest trigger sets me snarling and biting. they say to face fear and not let it control you. but what happens when it already has you in a death grip and squeezes tighter every day? and i feel so alone. the words, "i've already done everything i can, i don't know what else you want me to do," add guilt and shame on top of this freezing, almost-sentient Fear.

maybe this Fear is my limitation. it's certainly a crippling one. and no Funk may flourish in a heart sown with fear.


rock-out schmoozefest!!

okay, so i know i'm, like, totally late on this, but a while ago i was awarded a few blog awards by some of my biggest, Funkiest, most zen-ified and buddhalicious idols: boho mom and mich. and in keeping with the spirit of these awards, i have to now pick five people for each award and pass on the torch. however, that would mean that everyone on my blogroll (which is teenie, since i'm rather finicky about what i read) would get both! as funkalicious as that would be, i don't think that's really what the makers of the award had in mind. so, i picked one for each, and i hope that they can pass on the award to five other bloggers.

first was the rockin' girl award, which totally made my week when i read that boho mom had bestowed it upon my humble self. thank you, you sweet and adorable, zentastic goddess!!!

and so i award the rockin girl award to...

azzy! ...oh goodness goddess! this fantastical and masterful muse is the pint glass for my cider, the spoon for my ice cream, the spark for my inspiration, and the whole reason i even think i have a shot at becoming a published author. we've known each other for, what, just about ten years now? back in '98, come to think of it. wow... she had this awesome fantasy message board she'd created, and through the years we created some phenominal storylines. my writing grew, and it was all because of the environment she provided for myself and others, and i'd be years writing about the way she inspired me. if anyone's a rockin' girl, it's azzy!!

mwa! *blows kisses* love ya, girl!

mich awarded me the power of schmooze award. this is for bloggers who actually go out and touch others in the blogosphere, whether through comments, emails, tagboards, or belonging to an ivillage, like rainbow dreams. through the wonderiffic power of schmooze, the blogger helps create a sense of community, friendship, and all-around good-feelings to other bloggers.

and so now i, delena, do hereby pass the power of schmooze award to kotabear, one of my adopted brothers and a new bear to the blogosphere. but he's doing a really good job and keeping to his goals to blog pretty much every day, and he showed a true desire to help build the blog community by asking for advice from readers on how to go about doing that. in my opinion, that definitely shows the power of schmooze!!!

blog on, you rockin' bloggers, you!



CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): "The harder we love, the deeper we're gonna feel," sings Keith Greeninger in a rootsy tune from his "Glorious Peasant" CD. That's good advice for you right now, Capricorn, since what you especially need to guide you during this phase of wandering and exploration is ever-deeper and ever-more-nuanced-feeling. I'll add a corollary that might help as well: The softer you love, the smarter your emotions will be. You can love harder and softer at the same time, right?

you know what's really hilarious about this, right?

i've been wrestling with this oxymoron since at least june. i've definitely been wrestling with it since mid-july, when i got that text from *m* asking me to move away from my family and friends and live with him. i actually have that message saved in my phone, along with the one that says, "as long as you're there, it will be home."

he might have no trouble expressing that, but i do. for me, portland is home. but it's funny, because sometimes i'll still say "back home" and be talking about so.cal. i'm from southern california, but i'm also from portland. i can't see myself being from idaho, though... then again, it just might take seven years, and then i'll be saying things like how i could never see me moving away, and how great it is to feel all the way to the horizon, that there's something about a land still so untouched by humankind and, with the nearest semblance of a city two hours away, how wonderful it is to be in a town that forces you to slow down and just breathe.

right now, though, i think my love for portland is hard and deep. honestly, my love for *m* is hard and deep, too, but i've forced myself to love him softly, with smart emotions. it gets easier every day, too. i think the secret is to always give him the benefit of the doubt, to ask myself if he really, truly meant to hurt me or was just being a guy. so far, he was just being a guy. in teaching myself how to talk to the male of the species, i've been able to begin to teach him how to listen. i could never have done that if i were loving him with stupid, off-the-handle emotions.

at least i've achieved my goal of not being a stupid female...

the other night, i decided to be completely honest about my hard, deep love for my home. again, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. the more i was trying to deny how much it hurt to be moving at all, the more that pain was struggling to be acknowledged. so i pushed it down harder, and it pushed right back. it was making me pretty crazy. all it wanted was to be acknowledged. so i did.

but then, being that *m* and i have a surprisingly honest relationship (we've never so much as told a white lie to each other), i had to come out and tell him my feelings. i don't want to leave portland, period. and i hate idaho. i might've said negative things about it in my really bad mood, but if i'm honest with myself, it's all true. i still feel that way, even in a not-so-bad mood. my desire to move has more to do with pragmatic things --money, affordability, i'm more portable of us two, better career opportunities for me, stability-- than actually, like, wanting to exist in such a place. it's not even a nice place to visit. but the people there make it worth the trouble.

and it's like i told *m*: there's no limit to what i'll endure if it's for the right reasons. here's yet another example of that very thing.

but ever since i was able to be honest about it, instead of trying to suppress it, i've been able to ease up on that hard, deep love and love portland a little bit softer, smarter.

i can already feel it beginning inside me, the letting go. in my mind, i'm already looking south and east, towards my future. i have almost everything on my good-bye list crossed out. yesterday i got some work done on the funkmobile, in preparation for the trip. i'm starting to save boxes for packing. i passed the halfway mark in Field at work, which means i'm halfway to making commission already. halfway to my goal, and august isn't even over. looking at my beautiful surroundings, at everything i love here, it no longer hurts in my soul. it's with a pang of longing, but in my heart is already a "good-bye." and there's not an ounce of resentment in my heart anymore, either.

so, no, i can't love harder and softer at the same time yet, but i'm learning more every day.


the long haul

restoring my natal-yet-burgeoning faith in love, *m* came through for me and proved why --despite the rough road we've had ever since the fatefulwonderful invitation to live in idaho with him-- my faith in him as a man and my love has never wavered. my conficence in other things might suffer occasionally, but one thing i do know is that it's due more to human failing (on both our parts) than any character flaw. i know my sweet baboo isn't an ass, and he's so far above big *c* as a man that any comparison would be foolish beyond foolishness.

after all i've been through, after all i've changed, would Delena of the Funkywild suffer the presence of someone like big *c*? or *n*? or (the Divine Wow forbid) someone like *axe*? i think not! to do that would be to undermine the entire Funkywowness that is delena's life now. i've worked too damn hard this year to fall back into that. hell, i've worked too damn hard to enter into that in the first place.

the thing of it is, i first entered into this relationship looking for and at different things than i usually do. i was looking for someone my father would approve of, firstly. i was watching to see if he got along with my family, if building a relationship with them was important to him. my family is the most precious thing i could ever have and is half of what defines me (the Funk being the other half). if they all didn't get along together, it never could have worked. i looked for conversation, similar ways of thinking, same sense of humor. i looked for a strength and will which would (at the very least) match mine. and he had to be damned intelligent.

primeval as it sounds, i was looking for someone who could bring me firmly under heel...but with a heart so gentle he would never crush my spirit. if anything, my spirit had to be one of the things he loved most about me.

pretty tall order.

i also had no expectations about where this would go. as i told my dad when he asked where this was going, "as far as it goes, i suppose," i said. but from the beginning i was measuring it for long-term. i guess it means i'm growing up, but we'll just overlook that minor hazard...

*m* not only met all my requirements (family, harmony, strength, intelligence, and compassion) but stepped up and was afraid of nothing i presented before him. such a man is rare enough. how could i not respect and love him above all others, placing him first in my heart? these qualities are of his character, something so fundamental in him as to be unshakable. the problems, the fights, the hurt...those are human failings. none of us are perfect.

last night *m* read my previous entry. to say he was stricken puts it mildly, but i'm glad he read it. i never could have talked about it half so well as i could write it. our conversation about it was over messenger which, i think, also helped. more writing. we cleared up a lot of things, and we're finally beginning to learn how to talk to one another, and how to hear what the other is trying to say. once again, he stepped up and showed he's made of the stuff so very few men are made of...

i've never had that in a relationship before. i know i'm safe with him, and i trust him. outside of my family (my brothers and father), *m* is the only man i do trust.

so things are good. there's peace, and understanding, love, openness, and respect. and growth! things are good.


what's that word again?

from the oxford-delena dictionary


1. the female human being (distinguished from man)
2. an adult female
3. feminine quality or aspect; womanliness
4. that mysterious creature who, of tender heart and gentle spirit, captures the imagination
5. a philosophy unto herself
6. (v) (as in to be woman) the continuing struggle of self-discovery
7. so vastly different from a man in all ways as to be a separate species entirely

i used to joke that God made Man first. after all, you gotta have a rough draft before the finished masterpiece.

now, i've commented before on how different men and women are. finally and at long last, i've met someone who has actually motivated me to climb out of my mental rut and educate myself on those differences. for once, i actually care about those differences...and bridging them. last night, in keeping with this newfound concern i have for the differences between the sexes, i asked my dad for advice.

"okay, honey, what kind of advice?" he asked.

"well," i said, "how to talk to a man."

"directly," he said. of course, he went on to say other things. those things were in direct keeping with what i had learned in that book, love & respect, that i mentioned a couple posts ago. however, one thing dad said was that a woman talks in circles. he also said that you can ask a woman "what's wrong?" and she'll say something to the effect of, "if i have to tell you, then you just don't care about me." of course, his response to this was, "...which is bullshit."

i disagree. the female mind works very differently from the male version. she is always thinking of how she can make the lives easier of the person or people she loves, especially her partner. she is always thinking of how to please him/them. if something were bothering him, she would put forth the work, effort, and time to figure out what was bothering him just as she does to figure out what he likes, where he'd like to go out to eat tonight, what his routine is when he wakes up or gets home, et cetera. she likes to know everything she can about him, because knowing him is one of the ways she powerfully shows how deeply she loves him.

the female mind is also always asking, "does he love me the way i love him? would he do for me the things i do for him?" of course, when the answer is no, then the female mind and heart are deeply hurt. it's not "bullshit," it's the female mind, deep as the waters beneath the tranquil surface of the sea, and twice as unexplored.

men can put forth effort to learn how to speak to us, however. it's not difficult, or illegal, but it does take effort.

now, i've been putting what i've learned into practice with *m*, and so far i daresay it's been making a lot of headway. i love him, therefore i'm going to try to learn how to speak male by reading "male to recognizable english" dictionaries when i find them. i fervently wish he would make the same effort for me.

like any woman, all i want is all i give.

lately there's been a lot of social and political bullshit flying around *m*'s office, of which he is the last and final of four targets. two years ago, during the sheriff election, he and three other men were leading roles in supporting and voting for the other guy. now, only *m* is left in the force, and they're doing everything they can to push him out. it's *m*'s own version of the Summer of Funky Kali Love.

well, they've succeeded, and he's put in his letter of resignation today. last night, when i told my dad (a cop as long as i've been alive) what was happening, his advice was to stay, to go on record, and then begin the process of leaving. otherwise, he said, the implications can and will ruin any chance he ever has of picking up his career in the future. i, being a woman who loves her man and (now) knows a man's work is part of his identity, became extremely worried for his sake.

i emailed him about it and gave him my dad's email address. i begged him to email my dad and see what he had to say. i begged him. i said --twice-- "i am begging you, please do this." i even said that it would make me happy if he did, that it would put me at ease.

he said no.

now, it's not that he didn't take my dad's advice that hurts. it's not that he went ahead and set things in motion which we won't feel the repercussions for quite some time. it's not even that he didn't do what i wanted him to.

what cuts to the core is that i begged him to do a simple thing --just send my dad an email-- and he wouldn't do it. i begged him.

do i seem like a person who would beg for anything?

yesterday i woke up and realized that i was finally taking the first steps up and out of this Void of nonFunk. by no means was i out of it, but i could feel i was slightly "higher" than how low i've been lately. i made a few decisions that i've been stressing over lately, and i actually felt like i was ready to make those decisions. of course, dinner with my parents always helps, and i felt fantastic after an evening with them.

spending time with them always makes me feel so charged, so loved and confident and so much better.

when i woke up this morning and read *m*'s email refusal to my request, that shaky confidence fell. i was on the brink of tears all day. dogs struggling and being difficult on my table, which normally leaves me nonplussed (unless it's just a real shit of a day), had me using all my willpower to simply remain stoic instead of dissolving into a frustrated puddle of hopeless tears right there in the salon.

*m*'s seriously thinking of filing a lawsuit because of the final straw in this whole stupid fiasco. to me, the "last straw" was over sticks and stones. namecalling. yes, i know to a man, "integrity" is as much his definition as "motherhood" would be to me, and attacking his integrity is just as insulting, degrading, and undermining as when my bio-mom said i should never have been a mother and li'l *c* was better off without me. to this day, it still hurts and angers me. but if i filed a lawsuit over every defamation of character i've endured, i'd be in litigations until fuckin' doomsday.

i'm uprooting my life for this man, giving up being near everything i hold dear. i'm going to be the breadwinner, seeing as how he's resigning from the police force and is taking a significant pay cut in his new job. every problem, headache, and crisis that comes from this lawsuit is going to be just as much mine as it will be his. i'm throwing my lot in with a man who cannot even do one thing when his woman is on her knees begging for him to do it.

to me, this doesn't just tell me he didn't want to. to my female mind and heart, it tells me he doesn't hold me in high enough regard, doesn't respect me or love me enough to do something for me even though it is difficult.

how many things have i done, am i planning to do, and will do in the future for him even though i find them terrifying, intimidating, difficult, humiliating, financially near-impossible, or just plain unpleasant? how can i know that i can come to him and feel confident i'll get my needs met, that i'm safe asking him for things, when begging him gets nothing?

what little confidence i had is gone. this isn't reassuring to me that i'm doing the right thing, moving. i can't ask him for things. i've learned now that i just can't, and it's not like this was the first time i tried, either. i still don't know how to talk to him. he has enough burdens right now, i would hate to add one more. but my confidence that my heart is safe with him is pretty shaky right now.

if he begged me for anything --anything-- he knows i would drop everything and already be thinking of ways to meet his request even before the words are completely out of his mouth. when he asks me for things, to do things, to go places, even when i don't want to, the word "no" doesn't even cross my mind. it just doesn't. he asks, and i say yes. i love him. instantly giving him what he wants, simply to make him happy, is all i'm thinking of.

i begged him, and he couldn't do one thing. a simple email, even if only to humor me, and he couldn't even do that. how is it going to be when we're actually under the same roof?



if gasoline weren't so expensive right now, i'd be going for nightly therapy sessions along the highway.

i've noticed that the best mood i find myself in during the last few weeks is when i'm driving. i sing in the car -- at the top of my lungs, even. i laugh, whether at lyrics playing on my cd player, at other drivers on the road, or even at myself or something funny i happened to remember. i feel beautiful, what with the windows down and my sunroof wide open, the wind ruffling my hair and the wonderous portland smells wafting in at me. sometimes i'll be sucking on a black clove cigarette. not healthy, i know, but the mellow wave that comes over me as it hits my bloodstream, and the yummy taste of molasses on my lips is just heaven.

i know those streets backwards and forwards. i know where most --if not all-- of them lead. there's no place in both the entire portland metro area, hillsboro, or vancouver where i can get lost.

on the road, i am so free...

the Funkmobile's a manual, so there's an even greater sense of power, of me and the Funkmobile melding into One as we fly down four lanes of portland freeway, or two lanes of back-end country lanes with such beautiful scenery it sometimes actually brings tears to my eyes.

during *m*'s visit, he drove everywhere. the only time i got to drive was when i was driving my own ass to and from work. otherwise, he was in the driver's seat, even when we were driving around my own town. yeah, i know on the outside the Funkmobile's really a pretty dinky piece o'crap. but, honestly, my car's a lot like me. not much to look at on the outside, but there's a lot of spunk, and a speed and power that'd take you by complete surprise. and i handle her very well, if i do say so myself. he's in love with his car, and i can understand that, but for love of the Funk, give me a fucking turn, too. jeezus...

i had to come home to feel like an adult and enjoy my own freedom. the entire time, with *m* driving, i'd point out something special or beautiful that meant something to me, and he'd say, "i'm busy driving," so i finally gave up trying to share my city with him. had i been behind the wheel, i could've pointed things out to him and he would have been able to look and enjoy them. i'm dynamic and engaging when i'm driving. i can laugh and tell jokes and have a conversation. in *m*'s car, i was quiet, we barely talked, and he channel surfed his satellite radio stations as bad as any man with a remote and widescreen t.v. mainly, i stared out the window, bored as absolute fuck, tried not to get carsick, and pretty much felt like i was being chauffeured everywhere. even during the entire road trip from portland to idaho, i sat shotgun. i'd offered to take my turn, several times, the night before, but i guess i was ignored.

i suppose i'll just have to give up hoping that i'll get to share that kind of experience with *m* and just go out driving alone, or out driving with my friends. except, oh wait. when i move, i won't have any friends.


a wonderful idea...

so one of my silverfox brothers, *ks*, has this wonderful thing he does on his blog occasionally that i really admire. i've always thought to myself, "y'know, a list of goals is a fantastic idea. i should do that."

and i never do.

part of that is because i know once it's actually on paper it's, like, i'm committed. and i'm not really good with bonds and shackles. i usually work better just knowing what needs to be done. the list is in my head. oh, sure, i'll make "lists of things to do," and i'll even make lists of the lists i need to make. i even have a "list of Last Meals" i'm working on right now, of all my favorite places to eat here in the portland metro area, and i'm determined to hit every last one of them before i move away.

but tonight i decided to make a list of goals. there are just so many i have lately, in so many categories that it's getting difficult to keep it all straight.

so, here they are:

(in no particular order)
1. have all my stuff packed by the last week of september
2. save up enough to be able to afford the ass-rape that will be moving expenses
3. be in idaho by the first week of october
4. get my field training finished at work
5. get my certification as a commissioned groomer
6. get down to a decent jeans size
7. get both pairs of my chica shoes fixed before i leave
8. make a new AMV
9. adopt those two kitties *m* and i liked over at the tigard adoption center
10. straighten up my room
11. get back on a regular gym regimen
12. clean up my diet after this loss of Funk
13. get the oil changed in the Funkmobile
14. get the Funkmobile's windshield replaced
15. give the Funkmobile a funky new paint job, black with pink airbrushing
16. get the Funkmobile new tires
17. finish the list of Things to Get for the New Apartment
18. decide on and get a decent haircut from my stylist

and...okay, that's enough for now. the sheer cost of most of these things on this list is depressing me, lol.


CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): Welcome to the Season of Temporary Insanity, Capricorn. According to my analysis of the omens, your imminent immersion in lunacy, delirium, and freakiness won't hurt a bit - and may even stir up exotic varieties of pleasure and amusement. For best results, keep the following advice bubbling in the back of your mind. (1) "Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things." - Edgar Degas. (2) "Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment." - Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks. (3) "All of us are crazy good in one way or another." - Yiddish saying. (4) "You are either losing your mind - or gaining your soul." - Julia Cameron.

i suppose it makes a sort of sense that, in the latter half of the Year of Secrets there would be the Season of Temporary Insanity. with all those secret and hidden things coming to the fore, feeling the light of the sun, hissing at the glare and covering their eyes as they have lived in darkness for so long, it's only logical it would inspire insanity.

heh. logical it would inspire insanity. how's that for irony?

i actually wanted to say "thank you" to everyone who gave me advice, encouragement, and love over the last few days. i basically took all those lovely words, piled them together, and threw myself atop them like a pile of autumn leaves and wiggled a bit so i was at least half-submerged in them. then i lay there and stared up at the sky.

i watched movies. i ate what and when i wanted to and stopped feeling guilty if it wasn't exactly fantastic and healthy. i let myself be angry and stopped reprimanding myself, stopped calling myself childish and unfair. once i did that, the desire to bitch and vent went away. i didn't go to the gym, and i stopped loathing my body and the extra pounds that have packed themselves on as a result of all the bad bingeing i've been doing. i know i'll get back on track, but that time is not now. i napped right in the middle of the day, in the midst of a horrendously messy room, and it felt great.

there are clothes everywhere --work clothes, clean clothes, worn clothes-- and i haven't made my bed in a week. every flat surface is piled with crap, even spilling over onto the floor if i happen to bump into it. there's a very narrow path between the foot of my bed, where lies a foot locker, and my closet. right now it's so littered with clothes and crap that i can't even navigate it. i crawl over my lumpy, unmade bed to get to the other side of my room.

and i don't care.

i've been fighting this whole unFunk and it's been getting worse. i've forgotten one of my own fundamental truths: embrace it. whatever it is, embrace it. for you star trek fans out there, do you remember that one episode of next gen, Hero Worship, where the only survivor of a ship wreck, a young boy, starts emulating Data? i know it sounds totally geeky (because it is), but i've used that episode as a metaphor for life numerous times. it's one of my reminders of newton's third law of physics, and how it's not really all that abstract: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

but anyway, in this episode, the Enterprise gets hit with a shockwave so they put up their shields. a stronger shockwave hits the ship, and as they increase the shields the shockwaves get so strong that they're tearing the ship apart. the next hit will surely tear apart the Enterprise just like the boy's ship was destroyed. Data tells Worf to lower the shields and everyone looks at him like he's just proposed suicide. but Worf does it, and the next shockwave is a gentle ripple in the current of space.

i know it seems like such a "freaking DUH!" kind of concept, but it's one that i forget constantly and it ends up doing a number on me. i've never been one to let myself just feel. always i've buried, stuffed, suppressed, drugged, and run away from my emotions. i know why, too. i'm not using my life and times in the house of oppression as an excuse, just pointing out it was how i was molded on threat of pain. i'm constantly having to remind myself to just let go of the struggle and let myself go through whatever it is.

how sad, that i have to give myself permission to eat what i want to, not make the bed, not fold laundry, and just be angry/sad/confused. you know, there are times when i actually still expect to be slapped for expressing anger or hurt. when i come to someone and say, "this upsets me," or "this hurt me," i have to take days and muster up courage. i go through panic attacks, sweats, the shakes, the whole gamut, because i was taught it's a dangerous risk to express those types of emotions.

the fact i'm rarely received with an open mind only makes it that much more difficult. and yet i'm scolded when i keep my tongue, but fights inevitably happen when i say anything.

i have a confession. i have a secret and heretofore unspoken passion for inspirational self-help books. i know. it's stupid. unfortunately, most of them are written from a christian standpoint, but i just sift all of that out. a friend gave me Love & Respect by emerson eggerichs, and it's quite the fascinating read. on the friday *m* and i had dinner with my parents, on the drive home we had a horrible argument. that's the night i seriously forced myself to sit down and think about why i was doing this and whether i wanted it to continue. at that point i was so blinded by my own struggle with this move and the recent upheavals that i had lost track of what it is i really admire about him, and all the reasons i love him. the fundamental problem i saw was that i don't know how to talk to him.

at one point i even burst out laughing right in the middle of the fight because we sounded so stupid. we sounded like a real couple, but if he'd asked me at that point, "aren't we a real couple?" i would have said hell no. to me, what we had was a joke. there was rarely physical contact, even rarer "i love you's," i hadn't made eye contact with him almost the entire time he'd been here, and we had this cold war raging below the surface. i was feeling hurt and rejected, sexually frustrated, and now i couldn't even bring up something that deeply bothered me without him saying "thank god!" when i said, "fine, i'll just shut up, then." he was refusing to talk to me about things and i knew it, yet i knew he could talk to his best friend about them. it wouldn't be so difficult to stomach if his best friend wasn't a woman.

that one fight is still sitting in my gut, actually, unresolved. and there are several tangent issues clinging onto it that squeeze my solar plexus and make it hard to breathe. i still don't know how to talk to him, how to bring these things up without starting something else. yes, we made up later that night, but we didn't solve anything.

so i'm reading this book with those things in mind, and every time dr. eggerich talks about those interactions between men and women that inevitably turn into fights, i have our own fight in mind. sure enough, the miscommunications, misinterpretations, assumptions, and reactions he mentions are exactly what happened with us.

so last night, on chat msgr with *m*, i tried a different tactic. personally, i'm a lay-it-on-the-table kind of girl. all my cards, boom, right there. i do not mince words. i do not beat around the bush. i say it like it is, and i mean what i say. being blunt just saves time, and i am nothing if not pragmatic. i like efficiency. but this new thing i tried came straight from the book and goes against my grain entirely. it's like nails on a chalkboard to me, and i've never found any reason to respect this new thing. in fact, i look down on people who are like this, and i lose patience when they try to treat me this way. i'm a strong, big girl, godsdammit, and i can take it. give it to me straight, fucktard.

but...i love *m*, and i'll try anything if it'll help that love grow. we shouldn't be having these sorts of problems this soon into the relationship.

it worked. i think he was a little surprised, actually. he was more open to what i had to say, and immediately began giving me more of what i've been needing lately. just like that.

as soon as i stopped fighting the fact that i've lost my Funk and just let myself be depressed and insane, half of my struggle and pain disappeared. i was then able to ask for what i needed from *m*, and there was a small lessening in the half that remained. "think of the adventure," he said before going to bed. for only knowing me a short time, he sure knows the perfect thing to say sometimes.

so, mr. brezsny, i think i'll take advice piece No. 4: "you are either losing your mind - or gaining your soul."


actions speak louder than words

this place is my downfall.

i can tell i'm getting to a really bad place. not only have i not been eating well, i've been eating things with faces lately. chicken. fish. beef.

gods, it's so gross, but it's like i can't stop. and i've been smoking a lot lately, too.

it's one of my lingering verybad habits left over from my high school days. when i'm really stressed, i'll eat tons of crap until i can't stand it, then i'll starve myself and commit suicide at the gym. i'm hitting that "can't stand it" stage. however, i haven't indulged myself in this bad habit of mine in quite a few years. until now, anyway. that makes me nervous.

i've been seriously thinking about calling the whole thing off and not moving. i have. i've been weighing my options, standing a lot of things up to logic. the largest point of logic being if A, then B. if *m* is now definitely leaving his job with the county over there, but still wants to be a cop, then why not move him up here and get him a job with the portland PD? they're looking for men right now. it would be better for me in countless ways. but that's just it.

it would be better for me. not us. better for us is idaho.

on the way to chipotle --home of the UnGodly Burrito of Doom-- i stopped by the other salon where i was working back in july. i needed some paperwork info, but the salon manager and i started talking. we've been so excruciatingly slow at my home salon she offered me a table at her salon to help me get through this gap. the faster i'll be making commission, in other words, and the faster i can move to idaho.

i jumped on that offer faster than a cat on a cricket.

just goes to show: no matter how much i'm hating life right now, no matter how much sleep i'm not getting, how much i'm punishing my body, how much anger i'm repressing, or how much stress and fear are ruining me right now...it's all just temporary, and i know what i want.

and what i want is to move to idaho.

quite honestly...

As much as you want this, deep down I think you're really nervous about it all because no matter how much you try to convince yourself that everything's going to work out great, there's still that element of fear that comes with any new endeavor.

Maybe talking and being with *m* right now brings that nervousness/fear to the forefront and when that happens you unconsciously toss up a defensive shield that is powered by plain old mean and nastiness. Just a thought.

azzy, oh my lovely and unbeatable goddess of roleplaying, my friend and my muse, you're so freakin' absolutely right it's not even funny. so much just gets triggered inside me when idaho and the move become more than an abstract idea taking place in the future, and talking with *m* makes it really-not-abstract. it's, like, in my face real.

You're in the midst of a huge transitional period. That, combined with your previously posted "lack of support" regarding this move, you're just overwhelmed I think. Scared?


Not trying to play Freud here, but do you think you're subconsciously "testing" *m*?
To see if he's worthy? Dedicated enough to share a life with the fabulous Delena?

well, not so much testing him as scared as hell i'm going to move down there, get comfortable, and then he's going to realize i'm insufferable and not worth putting up with. thanks for calling me "the fabulous Delena," though...

Do not sabotage this.

i know. i'm trying like fuck not to. oh my Divine Wow, please believe me.

Get some rest and connect with your inner funk. I send you virtual cups of hot steaming chai tea & chocolate biscotti for dunking. Find your happy place and be true to yourself.
-Boho Mom

thank you. i'm going to curl up with your chai and biscotti on my bed and watch vanity fair, i think.

It sucks but just be aware of how far you let yourself go, we Goddesses have a very bad habit of thinking we should be indestructable

oh, my dizzy girl... you know me so well. and always so practical, too. after all the crap i've been through --through eight years of which you've been with me-- you know that i kinda think i am. all that, and still in one piece? shouldn't i be indestructable? *rolls eyes*

You're ALIVE and LIVING and making choices and mistakes and decisions. Why can't people see that?
Who wants to sit in the bleachers and never go up to bat?
God forbid you strike out?....who cares?
-Boho Mom

THANK you! egads, someone who actually freakin' GETS it! that's what i've been saying for years upon years. quite honestly, the bio-dad wanted to lock me up in a cage doing nothing but taking piano and voice lessons, to emerge a talented and cripplingly sheltered musical virtuoso. he wanted me sequestered from boys and the outside world, pristine as a sister from the Carmelite Order (which i almost joined at 18, mind you), yet worldly enough to make it in professional music.

quite honestly, i sat on the sidelines and listened to the fun things my friends were doing, missing out on them myself. i had to run away from home and move to another state just to feel the sensation of being able to go out with friends and not have to call home to check in every thirty minutes. even when i was twenty-four, my curfew was sundown. since i was twelve, i got to hear how filthy i was, what a slut i was, how --as a female-- i was a contributor to how miserable my bio-dad's life was simply by reason of my gender. quite honestly, i think my life in the house of repression is the singlemost reason why i'm so unrestrained and wildly adventurous now.

does anyone have any idea how it feels to miss out on twenty years of your life as you watch it just go past you? why would anyone want to play anything safe, after living in such shackles and misery? quite honestly, why would anyone not want to THROW themselves headlong into Life, after that? i know i do.

...your ways are not always easy to understand, because being delena takes an amount of passion and courage that most of us will never approach

...but it's so simple, the source of my passion and courage. quite honestly, it's simple hunger for living. i don't want to miss out on anything ever again.


but i've told you, and i believe it, that you are ready. you're ready for this move, and you're ready for whatever life throws at you. not that things will always be easy, or that you'll never have doubts. but you have made so much personal progress in the past year that you will overcome anything or anyone that tries to hold you back. you don't depend on a single relationship to define your worth; you know you fucking rock, and you will know that in idaho as well as you know it in portland or socal or nocal.

i know. *shuts eyes tightly and winces in typical 'my bad' fashion* i know i know i know. quite honestly, that's part of the problem. my life had just reached the pinnacle of Perfect here. all things were As I Wanted Them, and i had reached a sweetly perfect equilibrium.

sweet perfection.

it's already changed, which is how it works, i think. the minute we hit that perfect balance, it shifts. perfect moments weren't designed to last any longer than a moment, damn it all. but quite honestly, i'm terrified. quite honestly, i'm uprooting that recently-perfect life for a man i really don't know all that terribly well. true, if i listen to the Multiverse i can hear the Jiggy Snake humming, gearing up for a really freak-fucking-tastic, "WEE!" but still.

quite honestly, running through my head like a broken record are the words, "what if he hates me?" because, quite honestly, i'm not the most phantasmagoric of people. i drink from the milk carton. my vegitarian, lactose-intolerant diet's been such a pain in the ass for everyone around me i've resorted to simply fucking not eating for days at a time, just to make their lives easier. what if he gets so fucking sick of having to work around what i can and can't eat he just stops caring like everyone else?

i have a Temper. quite honestly, only two people in the history of Delena have seen it, and it takes a special degree of hatred to inspire it. the last guy who experienced it? it took three people just to pry me off of him. not that i even remotely think *m* has the talent to raise my temper, but just my anger and irritation are enough. quite honestly, i'm vicious in a cold sort of way.

and i'm forgetful. like, not just a little forgetful, but so absent-minded people think i'm an idiot. i can't keep two thoughts straight inside my head. my brain is so constantly moving, and so quickly, that sometimes i can't even have someone talking around me because i'll lose my train of thought a half dozen times. other times, i can think of ten different things and recite them back perfectly after hearing them once.

and, quite honestly, i'm a woman. men just fucking hate living with women. i know this. we're stupid and difficult and leave our stupid girly shit everywhere. quite honestly, i'm terrified *m*'s going to look back on his wonderfully masculine, bachelor life and pine away for it. quite honestly, i've tried to avoid being so many things --demanding, clingy, bitchy (failed miserably), overly presumptuous, contrary-- that i feel like i've stuck a ramrod up my ass and it's the only thing holding me upright.

quite honestly, this move intimidates and frightens the absolute shit out of me. i'm going to be alone in a place i don't understand, surrounded by nothing familiar, with none of my refuges to run to. i'll have none of my traditions --dinner at the parents', descending with The Horde, Midnight Movie Madness with *so*, first day of summer on Hawthorne. my job at the new location will be sink-or-swim, and it'll be very, very rough at first while i learn how to navigate around the stupid drama and social crap of people i don't even know...and returning to a more familiar environment will be extremely difficult at best. after the upheaval in both my and *m*'s life, i won't have the heart to even suggest it. quite honestly, i have nightmares about it. disembodied voices telling me things that terrify me into wakefulness, and then all i can do is either choke on my own gorge or throw up in the bathroom and hope i didn't wake up anyone.

quite honestly, i'm scared as absolute shit one day *m* will wake up and look at me and regret everything. yes, i've said i'll be able to take care of myself out there, but that was bravado. that was said to reassure everyone else. i'm terrified of facing the rage that will come when i realize i uprooted my Perfect Moment life for nothing. and, quite honestly, i'm really not looking forward to hating my environment for years. again. i hated it up here in portland for three years when i moved up here with big *c* when li'l *c* was an infant. three years. the thought of once again looking out the window and being filled with loathing at the sight actually makes me sick. it's ugly, desolate, and austere out there, plain and simple.

i'll write more later. i'm falling asleep.


what's that word again?

from the oxford-delena dictionary


1. concealed, obscure, covert
2. concealed from sight, prevented from being seen or discovered
3. obscured from knowledge or exposure
4. what many of delena's truths have been until now

so today i did it. in a moment of distraction, of total non-paying attention, i slipped up and used the words "our" and "goals" together in the same sentence. i've been so careful to only use inclusive words like "we" and "our" only around *m*, *cc*, and *mj*, for obvious reasons. anywhere else, i've said, "*m* and i," or, "last week with *m*." discussing ownership or anything else regarding this new life of mine, i've avoided calling anything "ours."

i've kind of been refusing to refer to or even look at *m* and delena as a single unit.

but i went out with *v* tonight for dinner and a movie, and she happened to ask how long i had until the move. "beginning of october i leave," i said. we talked a bit more, then i heard the baleful words come out of my mouth: "yup. i'm not sure how close it'll be, but the first week of october's our goal."

it didn't hit me for over an hour just how fucking huge that was, or how disturbing.

of course, all day long all i could think of was the future. and not just any future, but the best possible future.

i realized something else tonight, driving home. it's funny. dancing queen used to be my theme song, but that was also back when i actually was seventeen. i just kept it because i couldn't find anything else fitting. but i've really liked my life by billy joel for quite some time. i always end up playing it five, six, ten times in a row and singing it at the top of my lungs in the car.

it's my new theme song, gods damn it all.

and other things have been hidden until tonight.

i was in an absolutely fantastic mood tonight. i was driving home feeling like the world was mine. all was right with my world. the word "goodbye" was even on the tip of my metaphorical tongue, watching portland speed past me as i drove down the highway.

then tonight i finally got to talk to *m* after a few days of nothing, for stupid phone company reasons i shall not go into at this time. but i've been in an increasingly frustrated and foul mood because of my *m* deprivation. so i caught him on the online messenger and we talked. and my foul mood worsened instead of dissipated like i had expected it to. i watched myself get increasingly dry-humored, blunt, and bitter the more i talked to him. even as i didn't want to stop talking to him --because it's been days since we talked and we've never gone a night without talking-- i really wanted to just be refreshingly, cathartically, unrestrainedly mean and nasty tonight.

i was in a bad mood the entire time he was up here vacationing. my mood continued in idaho. it vanished the moment my plane took off. but tonight it came back in full force so quickly that i'm forced to admit it never disappeared to begin with. it merely went below the surface.

i don't get it, but it's something i have to figure out. i'm so run-down and un-Funkified i'm getting sick.

this entry of iGoddess is brought to you by the letter D...


D as in Delena.
D as in Determined.
D as in Decision.
D as in Deliberate (v).
D as in Dammit.

so okay, i haven't exhibited the best judgement in the past. i admit it. my bad. my freakin' bad. but sometimes i wish people would look just a little deeper and see that it's not bad judgement. it's not idiocy. it's a desire and willingness to trust people, to give second chances, to give the benefit of the doubt.

people like that, like me, get it up the ass a lot by fucktards looking to screw someone over.

so i was still actually getting negative feedback from a few people even during this past weekend while i was in idaho apartment hunting with *m*. it finally got to the point where i stopped trying to find out in roundabout fashion why i was considered such a fucktard. i took my toe and drew a line in the sand and asked point-blank what it was about me that people thought of me as so stupid.

this was a text conversation with my li'l sis, *t*. at that point i was angry and fed-up. she told me that it wasn't that she (and *aj*) think i'm stupid so much as i've been fucked over and while yes, it affected me deeply, it also affected them and they're just protective. they'd still rather i didn't move at all. or, if i absolutely had to move, then live alone for a while (as in years) before making any relationship-type decisions.

i've explained to them that any suggestion of that type is merely suggesting i go completely against the grain of everything i am. i'm not a toe-in-the-water type of person. i'm a swing-from-the-ropeswing-headlong-into-the-deep-end-with-a-squeal-of-glee type person. i'm an up-to-my-eyeballs kinda girl. i jump, revel, bury, and submerge myself in those things i believe in, whether new or traditional.

have i ever turned away an adventure?

have i ever failed to explore an opportunity that even remotely appealed to me?

have i ever moved cautiously when i could forge ahead intrepidly?

i think that's part of the reason that vanity fair is one of my secretly favorite movies. becky sharp is someone i can vastly relate to. from the sense of promise and adventure, to getting in over her head and even kicked to the curb, to the world-weary heaviness...to bouncing right back and gripping another adventure by the horns and riding wildly all the way to some strange new land filled with promise and unknowns.

after that final conversation with *t* --in which nothing was really resolved-- i felt my sadness and dismay burn away, like oil left on a pan with the burner still on. i felt it just burn away like smoke. in its place was a very steely, razor-sharp determination.

"i think," i said to *m* in the car, "if i have to slit my own throat in sacrifice to all the gods of good fortune, i will make this idaho thing work, godsdammit."

"please don't," he said. "i like your throat as it is."

"i will make it work, gods damn it all. i'm tired of this shit," i said quietly. "i don't have the luxury anymore to mourn everything i'm losing. i'm making this work."

and so far i've geared myself to do exactly that. whenever i think of idaho, i think about what's positive about it. sure, the list is very short right now (what's positive about a land of flat nothingness, especially compared to portland's verdant abundance?), but i keep replaying those promising items over and over in my mind. i picture myself driving home to my new apartment and coming home to *m*'s loving arms. i mentally prepare myself for signing off my firstborn for a full tank of gas (gas prices are an anal rape in the dark over a barrel without any vaseline...compared to portland). i've put myself into packing-and-moving mode...a mode i thought i'd never see for at least another two years, but oh the fuck well.

there's been the support of a few people, the rest of the silverfox family. and my dad says i'm a grown girl, i can make my own decisions, and if i hate it i can always come straight home. besides, when mom and dad retire, they're heading back to northern cali, so it's not like i'll be in idaho forever. i'll be in no.cal. *nod* but still.

this WILL work.

i have spoken.


venus envy

when the Funk made the heavens and the earth and the infinite possibilities of the multiverse, either it never considered the very real possibility that Man and Woman would pop out of that, or it knew and went ahead with the plan anyway.

lemme just go on record saying that the Jiggy Snake's got one sick sense of humor.

you know that whole men are from mars, women are from venus crap? i used to think it was a load of bunk. men are from earth, women are from earth. deal with it.

now i'm not so sure.

remember when i got on my soapbox and ranted about phallocratic sex? i revealed some really personal things about myself that day. in fact, you could say what i wrote was just shy of a copy of the surefire handbook to delena's erotic pleasure. sure, you have to read between the lines in places, but it's not like i made it difficult. and in some places i state plain as day exactly what i'm looking for.

why, you ask, am i writing about it now? well, i'm experiencing a little technical difficulty in the bedroom. once again the phallocratic-sex monster's rearing its ugly head in my presence, and it's really getting in the way of enjoying sex. not that there's really anything wrong with a phallocratically sexual male, it just means the poor boy needs a bit of re-education. and while cognitively, my idaho boy knows that the world --and sex-- do not revolve around his cock (to his everlasting credit!), his behavior and some of the things he says strongly indicate he's geared toward boring-ass phallocratic, penis-in-the-vagina, the cock is the center of the universe sex.

this makes for a rather sexually frustrated delena.

i've talked to quite a few females about the particulars of my dilemma and, the thing is, all of them right away see exactly what the problem is. however they, like myself, see no solution to it, either.

however, it's really highlighted for me just how extremely different men and women are. when i describe the things i do, how things progress in bed --from foreplay to the finale-- they immediately see exactly what it is i'm craving. it's so screaming obvious to them it's...well...bloody screaming obvious. and all of them have said or asked the same thing, almost verbatim, even: "and the hint isn't picked up when you're doing those things to him?"

see, it's obvious to all the women i talk to that what i want is everything i'm giving. from the random neck rubs given without request, to the petting first thing when we wake up, to the solid hour of head-to-toe kissing, to intuiting what he likes and doesn't like simply by his sighs and body language...all of it. i am quite literally demonstrating every single dang thing i want from him, and women find this so bloody obvious it's really not all that funny.

and yet so many women have such a hard time receiving reciprocal passion and satisfaction from their partners. men apparently need for us to spell things out for them, to the point of it becoming killjoy and thereby wiping out all trace of sexual desire right out of us. for the most part, i've come to realize women hate --HATE-- having to direct or conduct during sex. if we have to ask for it, or demand it, the desire evaporates faster than water on a hot skillet. it's a rare woman who actually has the substance to grab a man's hand and put it exactly where she wants it.

for most of us, that's considered insulting the man we're with to almost unforgivable degree. it's like we're calling him a stupid sonofabitch who can't fucking see the obvious, right to his face. isn't it obvious we want to be touched there? we're only pressing that part of our body into yours, grinding it gently against you. we sigh and arch our backs when you come even remotely near it, even by accident. some of us even moan and nod our heads a little, like "yes yes, more more." we are saying something, and still we get nothing.

the other difficulty i run into is my very strong aversion to asking him to do anything he doesn't want to do all on his own. i've been raped in the past. that is the ultimate definition of being made to do something you don't want to, and i never want to put another human being through anything remotely similar. however, i've painted myself into a corner now because, ironically, if he doesn't volunteer to do something on his own, i'm afraid as hell to ask for it.

i asked once, and immediately afterward he groaned about how much his back hurt. i felt like absolute shit, and humiliated. which, sadly, was totally unconducive to sex and exacerbated by the simple fact that i was buck naked and completely vulnerable because...well...he's my lover. not only did he not even seem to enjoy himself, the first words out of his mouth were a complaint.

i don't see myself asking for anything ever again, any time soon. i mentioned this to my female friends, and they all crooned their comfort and understanding and condolences. and they knew, intuitively, that complaints were exactly the wrong thing to vocalize. then they all ranted about how many times they've performed for their partners and the headaches, jaw aches, body parts that went numb, and sore backs they'd endured silently simply because they knew a complaint would kill the mood. they knew it was for their partner's pleasure and were therefore happy to endure a little discomfort. i knew exactly what they were talking about, because i'd endured the very same. i said, "all i do is just adjust my position, or lie down, or something, and keep going." and there were, "well DUH's!" all around.

it struck me just how different men and women really are. what might be the verbal equivalent of a smack upside the head and an unforgivable insult to us is nothing more than a polite and plainly spoken, kind request to them.

unfortunately, that can go for us women, too.


credendo vides

iGoddess has seen the Year of Secrets, the Week of Juxtapositions and the Land of Simultaneous Opposites, and the body of my enemy --*jd*-- floating by in the river. iGoddess has tasted miracle concentrate and the dust of the bones of my antepasados. iGoddess has taken the vows of the revolutionary freedom fighter for truth, beauty, and Funk. iGoddess has answered the clarion call of the pronoiac. iGoddess has visited the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail. iGoddess has lived through delena facing and embracing her greatest fear: Love.

these past couple of weeks have actually been a very trying time for me, and i wonder that i could have done so much better in how i dealt with it. however, i am rather ashamed to say that i let my inner flaming narcissist run away with me. i cared more about my own pain and confusion rather than rising above it to be there for *m*, who has so quickly become my funkiest groovemate. while i'm proud to say that i never withdrew from those who love me, i didn't trust myself enough to avoid talking and posting the fear and hypocrisy i could feel coiling in my belly. hence why i posted the EBS.

iGoddess isn't about self-pity, or letting insecurity surmount upon itself. if i couldn't keep my grip on the Funk...if i couldn't keep my focus on pronoia and my duties as a revolutionary freedom fighter...i simply had no place saying anything at all for a while.

i let my own weakness and love for my pain blind me to the simple fact that i was being snotty and uncommunicative. i fell into old habits brought on by simple fear. and it was stupid fear: fear of leaving this place. leaving home, leaving my parents, leaving *cc* and *mj*, leaving everything i've built that i love, leaving the land itself which i've loved like a part of me.

but portland will not run its fingers through my hair, or kiss my forehead when i'm falling asleep. portland won't make me laugh so hard i snort my drink up my nose, or be that warm presence in bed beside me. portland won't eat the dinner i've spent all evening in the kitchen preparing, or encourage me when work's been stupid and filled with drama.

having *m* so close by these last two weeks really makes his absence that much more achingly apparent now. it also taught us quite a few things about ourselves, i think, and about each other as individuals and as a pair.

we learned that while we find the other easy to talk to, and we have a lot to talk about, we need to learn how to talk to each other. more importantly, we need to learn how to hear what the other is really saying. at one point, after a week of our cold war, i finally forced myself to ask myself how it would affect me if i suggested *m* go home alone. sure, it would have been easier, and i could have chalked it up to originally not really wanting a relationship anyway. it would have been the best excuse to not even consider moving out of portland. if we couldn't even spend a week together without falling into the arguments we had, into the patterns that were oh-so familiar to me after my time with big *c* (hence adding to my panic), how on the Funk's green earth could we ever hope to survive in the same apartment together?

and i was forced to admit it would hurt vastly worse to be without *m* than facing the silly pain of whatever stupid crap we were dealing with at the time. hence, i had to admit i couldn't lose him. i love him, and want a life with him.

it was humbling.

the deeper implications being that --no matter what-- i was moving to idaho. of course, after i realized i couldn't be without him, talking about and planning this move became much easier. my practical side returned to the helm, so to speak.

spending four days down there, apartment hunting and meeting *m*'s friends, also taught me a few things to like about idaho. of course, they all center around the future, but i suppose that fits with the way i am. once i really let go of something, i don't look back. it's the letting go i've always had a problem with, but that's old news.

we reconciled, and it felt so good not to have that tension between us anymore. it felt good just to hold him.

we talked and planned. future hatchlings even came up several times in conversation and planning. at one point, he even called them by name...which sort of amazed and surprised me. usually it's the female who's most eager to begin nesting.

y'know, a short while ago i said:
i'm bigger, shinier, funker, and more beautiful than i've ever been and i know it.

the rest of this year will be used to finish up and close this particular chapter in my life. i'm ready for something funkywild and new. so i say again:

bring it!

when we call, the multiverse answers. i wasn't specific, and "something funkywild and new" took the form of a funktastically amazing relationship and a move to Bum Funk Nowhere. maybe i should have been more specific. or maybe i wasn't meant to be.

in my horoscope this week, mr. brezsny told me it's Big Wild Prayer Week for me, prayer being an intention to align my emotions and thoughts with the highest possible good. so, in light of the recent attack of my inner flaming narcissist, the temporary seige of the apocolypse and my momentary failure to my duty as a revolutionary freedom fighter, i say this prayer...

"die, apocalypse, die! i swallow you down and break you up into your most basic elements so i may then use those materials to continue to construct myself into the funkiest groovemate worthy of both myself and my sweet baboo, and thereby kill the apocalypse within me by transforming my shadow self into constructive expressions of the Funkalicious Jive! i shall endeavor to find equality, equilibrium, and interdependence with my sweet groovemate in order to allow him to manipulate me as much as i manipulate him, so that we both may work our magic on each other and manifest all of our potential!

amen. a-woman. ommmmm... and hallelujah."

radical intimacy means we kill the apocalypse at the source.
(robert brezsny, the televisionary oracle, pg. 355)


iGoddess EBS

This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. The bloggers in this area have developed this sytem to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. Delena has temporarily lost the Funk, and will not be returning to iGoddess until such time as she has regained it. This is to avoid widespread panic as a result of negativity, hypocrisy, and other cluster-Funks piling up in the world of iGoddess right now. Delena will return when the Funk has been found again. Please stand by.

This concludes this test of the Emergency Broadcast System.