...one giant leap for me and my creative process.
the other day i wrote about that little voice that crowds you and demands to know, "who do you think you are?" and i decided to simply stand up and declare, "THIS is who i think i am, who i know i am!" and i just did it.
at first i was tempted to explore who that voice sounds like, who it resembles, where it came from and how long i've been letting it tag along. but i stared at those couple of paragraphs for a few minutes, reading and re-reading them. they looked really good. they were written well. and they were totally beside the point, so i chucked 'em.
the only point was who i think i am. who cares where it came from? all that matters is that i packed its bags and sent it on an extended vacation to hawai'i. a voice that grating, nagging, unhappy and unable to be satisfied definitely needs a trip to hawai'i even more than i do.
have fun, little nagging voice. come back when you're rested, tanned, and eager to show off souveniers.
i'll be over here, conquering a chapter in the Heartbreaking Work that had kept me in writer's block for fifteen months!
you read that right: i conquered my over-a-year-long writer's block.
i just did it. just like i said, i just sat down and wrote, and i didn't care about whether it was good, or legible, or publishable, or marketable. i didn't care. i just wrote. all that mattered was the creation. let the fingers fly over the keyboard and who gives a damn what comes out.
incredibly, what happened was that i fleshed out a character that was entirely theoretical up until now, discovered new motives to my antagonist that i had no idea were there...things that made this hatred of my heroine intensely personal. i saw the first interaction and definition of the dynamic between heroine and antagonist.
it was beautiful.
i am so damn proud of myself! i took myself out for mongolian to celebrate, sang "comfortably numb" by pink floyd and "all these things that i've done" by the killers at the top of my lungs in my car on the freeway. i wore my hair down in public (it's so long i always tie it back), enjoyed the gorgeous weather with the windows down and the sunroof back...and just reveled in the feeling of accomplishment.
you'll see my name on the bookshelves only too soon. "what [wo]man can conceive and believe, [s]he can achieve." --napoleon hill
damn straight.
11.29.2008
lately...
...life's been so normal it's almost sad. i've had no big "aHA!" moments, no quirky little events which trigger larger thoughts, no major upheavals inspiring me to burn heaven to the ground once again. just...life.
it's actually kinda funny. i've been working with the avenging vulture goddess energy, walking in the shadows of kali and lilith for so long that a large part of me wonders if i'm not caught in a rut and should be whipping out my sickle, covering my body in war paint, and attack with vicious love anything remotely resembling stagnation in my life.
another part of me wonders if i haven't grown so accustomed to the death goddess energy that i'm not slightly addicted to the savage pruning that happens every time i burn heaven to the ground. what's wrong with dormancy? of letting lie fallow to rejuvenate, insulate, germinate...? winter is fast on autumn's heels, and everything goes to ground this time of year to hibernate. if i'm not mistaken, pruning at this time of year usually leads to the death of the plant, yes?
yet i'm still looking for things to hack off at the root with my sickle. i'm still looking for old ways to challenge, for destructive habits to gouge out. a part of me feels i'm failing, because i'm not finding much and my life is quiet.
the death goddess in me is kinda dismayed because there's nothing left to prune.
it's funny, if you think about it. there she is in me, sickle in hand, dreadlocks stiff on the ends with dried blood, bone bracelets and anklets rattling, thrumming in herself as the drums of war sound deep and fierce...and the battlefield's long since been emptied.
all that's left is green grass and the whispers of the fallen, with a lone flagpole bearing a white flag waving tiredly under the halfhearted winter sun.
and yet there's another part of me, a little more visceral, which i feel in that place behind my heart, and in my solar plexus, and just above my womb. it's more driving than any instinct, as if it's older than instinct. as if it invented instinct.
it's the need, the desire, the drive to create. it's almost savage, that wild and visceral feeling of the primal source. it's not as comforting as demeter the milksop who wept for her daughter night and day. it's more demeter the powerful, demeter the terrible, demeter the almighty who could withdraw her hand from the earth so nothing would grow...until the father of the gods himself had to come as supplicant at her feet. she would never let on that she needed to create as much as he needed her to create...but once she did stretch forth her hand again, it fed something within her that no one --not even her daughter persephone-- could touch.
that's how this is.
i was positively moved last night, undeniably. i literally jumped up, ran to my room, and took down the box containing the afghan i began crocheting last winter (which i never finished because *m* bought me the wool i was using, and i didn't even want to think about him). i took it up once more. and then i was moved again, and took out my dragon and da vinci tarot cards to work. i crave winter squash and vegetable soups. i crave my mexican culture, want to hear its music and sing its language. i sit at my computer and pound out paragraphs and paragraphs of the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. i'm channeling reiki again.
it's pouring out of me almost as if i can't control it, like it has a will of its own and had grown impatient with me waiting for a time when the laundry's all done and the apartment's clean, when the dishes are put away, my bed is made, the marketing and article writing's done, the phone calls are over, the cat's been petted, i'm not driving someone somewhere... i made the realization not a week ago that i will never have the "extra" time to set aside for creating, for writing and crocheting, and i resigned myself to it.
it seems the whirlwind creatrix goddess within has other plans, and will not allow me to resign myself to leaving my creativity behind to die.
and so...i surrender. i am its conduit, and don't give a damn whether it's publishable, or beautiful, or marketable, or even reasonable. i'm not feeding publishers, or admirers, or buyers, or even the little logical voice inside my head. it's feeding something deeper, more ancient, and closer to my true Self. i'll let the avenger vulture goddess hibernate this winter, while the cozy warmth of my winter cave --stocked with stores for the long cold-- feeds the other goddess within.
so mote it be.
it's actually kinda funny. i've been working with the avenging vulture goddess energy, walking in the shadows of kali and lilith for so long that a large part of me wonders if i'm not caught in a rut and should be whipping out my sickle, covering my body in war paint, and attack with vicious love anything remotely resembling stagnation in my life.
another part of me wonders if i haven't grown so accustomed to the death goddess energy that i'm not slightly addicted to the savage pruning that happens every time i burn heaven to the ground. what's wrong with dormancy? of letting lie fallow to rejuvenate, insulate, germinate...? winter is fast on autumn's heels, and everything goes to ground this time of year to hibernate. if i'm not mistaken, pruning at this time of year usually leads to the death of the plant, yes?
yet i'm still looking for things to hack off at the root with my sickle. i'm still looking for old ways to challenge, for destructive habits to gouge out. a part of me feels i'm failing, because i'm not finding much and my life is quiet.
the death goddess in me is kinda dismayed because there's nothing left to prune.
it's funny, if you think about it. there she is in me, sickle in hand, dreadlocks stiff on the ends with dried blood, bone bracelets and anklets rattling, thrumming in herself as the drums of war sound deep and fierce...and the battlefield's long since been emptied.
all that's left is green grass and the whispers of the fallen, with a lone flagpole bearing a white flag waving tiredly under the halfhearted winter sun.
and yet there's another part of me, a little more visceral, which i feel in that place behind my heart, and in my solar plexus, and just above my womb. it's more driving than any instinct, as if it's older than instinct. as if it invented instinct.
it's the need, the desire, the drive to create. it's almost savage, that wild and visceral feeling of the primal source. it's not as comforting as demeter the milksop who wept for her daughter night and day. it's more demeter the powerful, demeter the terrible, demeter the almighty who could withdraw her hand from the earth so nothing would grow...until the father of the gods himself had to come as supplicant at her feet. she would never let on that she needed to create as much as he needed her to create...but once she did stretch forth her hand again, it fed something within her that no one --not even her daughter persephone-- could touch.
that's how this is.
i was positively moved last night, undeniably. i literally jumped up, ran to my room, and took down the box containing the afghan i began crocheting last winter (which i never finished because *m* bought me the wool i was using, and i didn't even want to think about him). i took it up once more. and then i was moved again, and took out my dragon and da vinci tarot cards to work. i crave winter squash and vegetable soups. i crave my mexican culture, want to hear its music and sing its language. i sit at my computer and pound out paragraphs and paragraphs of the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. i'm channeling reiki again.
it's pouring out of me almost as if i can't control it, like it has a will of its own and had grown impatient with me waiting for a time when the laundry's all done and the apartment's clean, when the dishes are put away, my bed is made, the marketing and article writing's done, the phone calls are over, the cat's been petted, i'm not driving someone somewhere... i made the realization not a week ago that i will never have the "extra" time to set aside for creating, for writing and crocheting, and i resigned myself to it.
it seems the whirlwind creatrix goddess within has other plans, and will not allow me to resign myself to leaving my creativity behind to die.
and so...i surrender. i am its conduit, and don't give a damn whether it's publishable, or beautiful, or marketable, or even reasonable. i'm not feeding publishers, or admirers, or buyers, or even the little logical voice inside my head. it's feeding something deeper, more ancient, and closer to my true Self. i'll let the avenger vulture goddess hibernate this winter, while the cozy warmth of my winter cave --stocked with stores for the long cold-- feeds the other goddess within.
so mote it be.
11.26.2008
so...who am i?
i was over on brandi the space cowgirl's blog and she had this absolutely wonderful post about the nagging voice(s) in the back of your head that show up when you think about being more. y'know, the voice(s) that put their hands on their hips, or raise an eyebrow, or lean in really close and say, "who do you think you are?"
if you haven't, go read it now. i'll wait.
it's kinda funny, because i had just gotten finished writing an email to the lovelylicious jane over at the painted house about that very thing. except i talked about it in mythical and metaphorical terms.
leave it to me to be an old fuddy-duddy wannabe-intellectual about it, huh? =)
then again, perhaps that's just another expression of the voice saying, "who do you think you are?" to me.
it always comes from just over my right shoulder, just inside my peripheral vision, this voice. and it's always two feet taller and bending over to crowd my personal space, to whisper in my ear, "who do you think you are?"
then the other parts of it start coming, about how that piece will never be good enough, about how the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is actually the Gutwrenching Work of Staggering Embarrassment and will never be published, how i will always suck at this entrepreneur thing and will never make a dime, about how i'm not as smart as i like to think i am and should stop pretending....and on and on and on.
and i always believe it, and it always gets the best of me, and sometimes there's nothing i can do except just bow, and scrape, and listen to it with my whole heart...
and that's when i need to ignore it the most. however, ignoring it never really ever did anything.
maybe i should confront it? i've always been very good at being defiant. whoa, my bio-parents can tell some stories about that! if i ever wanted to do something, i usually went right ahead and did it, damn the torpedoes, and took the consequences no matter how they came.
i wonder what happened.
i can't really say that i grew up, because that usually means that you grow wiser (shut up, i like to think so). but there's always something which gets in the way, especially in the way of my writing. there's always more laundry, more house cleaning, more articles to write, more advertisements to put up, more phone calls to make, even more time to spend with the family...and my creativity gets put on the back burner and grows cold. maybe i grew...soft? bent-over? tired from the other voices, the real ones, asking me "who do you think you are?" that's entirely plausible. i thought i was over that.
no...i AM over that.
starting right now.
so...who am i?
i'm a divalicious Funkmaster. i'm a revolutionary freedom fighter for Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love. i'm armed with my pink pleather go-go boots, pink headband montera with the springs and pink flashy hearts on top going boing! i'm a fucking AWESOME writer, who's going to bring my story to thousands upon thousands of readers all over the world, and they're going to see the same thing those closest to me do: all my talent. i'm a phenominal singer, even if i just sing in the car when no one else is around. i'm beautiful and voluptuous and shining and worth so, so much.
THAT, my little arrogant voice, is who i am.
who do YOU think you are for trying to bring me down?
if you haven't, go read it now. i'll wait.
it's kinda funny, because i had just gotten finished writing an email to the lovelylicious jane over at the painted house about that very thing. except i talked about it in mythical and metaphorical terms.
leave it to me to be an old fuddy-duddy wannabe-intellectual about it, huh? =)
then again, perhaps that's just another expression of the voice saying, "who do you think you are?" to me.
it always comes from just over my right shoulder, just inside my peripheral vision, this voice. and it's always two feet taller and bending over to crowd my personal space, to whisper in my ear, "who do you think you are?"
then the other parts of it start coming, about how that piece will never be good enough, about how the Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is actually the Gutwrenching Work of Staggering Embarrassment and will never be published, how i will always suck at this entrepreneur thing and will never make a dime, about how i'm not as smart as i like to think i am and should stop pretending....and on and on and on.
and i always believe it, and it always gets the best of me, and sometimes there's nothing i can do except just bow, and scrape, and listen to it with my whole heart...
and that's when i need to ignore it the most. however, ignoring it never really ever did anything.
maybe i should confront it? i've always been very good at being defiant. whoa, my bio-parents can tell some stories about that! if i ever wanted to do something, i usually went right ahead and did it, damn the torpedoes, and took the consequences no matter how they came.
i wonder what happened.
i can't really say that i grew up, because that usually means that you grow wiser (shut up, i like to think so). but there's always something which gets in the way, especially in the way of my writing. there's always more laundry, more house cleaning, more articles to write, more advertisements to put up, more phone calls to make, even more time to spend with the family...and my creativity gets put on the back burner and grows cold. maybe i grew...soft? bent-over? tired from the other voices, the real ones, asking me "who do you think you are?" that's entirely plausible. i thought i was over that.
no...i AM over that.
starting right now.
so...who am i?
i'm a divalicious Funkmaster. i'm a revolutionary freedom fighter for Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love. i'm armed with my pink pleather go-go boots, pink headband montera with the springs and pink flashy hearts on top going boing! i'm a fucking AWESOME writer, who's going to bring my story to thousands upon thousands of readers all over the world, and they're going to see the same thing those closest to me do: all my talent. i'm a phenominal singer, even if i just sing in the car when no one else is around. i'm beautiful and voluptuous and shining and worth so, so much.
THAT, my little arrogant voice, is who i am.
who do YOU think you are for trying to bring me down?
11.25.2008
brezsny-on-the-blog
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Last June, Neculai Ivascu was re-elected mayor of Voinesti, a Romanian town he had led for almost two decades. The only problem was, he was dead. "I know he died," said one of the villagers who voted to return him to office, "but I don't want change." I hope you won't go that far in your resistance to the forces of evolution, Capricorn. It's time for at least some of your old ways of thinking and being to expire, and there's no wisdom in trying to prop them up. My advice is to be brave: Gracefully agitate for transformation.
well...shit.
needless to say, this week's influx of brezsny wasn't received well at first. i sat here for a few minutes thinking of the most "colorful" language to express just how not-well it was received.
then i started thinking about it and, to be quite honest, those forces in me have been shifting --or ready to shift-- for quite some time. i've been doing a lot of thinking (not deliberately!) and realizing that some of the things i was holding onto are a little outdated.
and no, we're not talking "fashionably retro," here.
however, it's also brought quite a bit of sadness into my life to think of those things that no longer serve me. especially when they were things to which i was quite dedicated for the longest time. however, the natural progression of my life is showing me that perhaps it isn't exactly in the cards for me anymore. or maybe i'm just not really quite the same person i used to be deep down.
most of it's been centered around careerlovemarriagechildren, and how much i wanted all four, and all four to be "just so," and "just so" to be happy and miraculous and everything i ever dreamed of when i was younger...within reason. i was allowing for reality. i really was.
but with each passing day --the more i see the relationships around me-- the more i realize just how happy i really am unattached and unfettered. i have my routines, my style, my freedom. my bedroom is decorated just the way i like it. i don't have to share leftovers. i don't have to make room, or compromise. i'm free to do what i want, with whom i want, when i want. my honor is answerable to no one but myself (aka. i can sleep with whom i wish, hang out with whom i wish, and ignore whom i wish) without having to consider things like closing myself to the world of possibilities out there.
not only that, but i discovered that i've developed this very serious allergy to drama. we're talking anaphylactic shock, here. the moment there's a breakdown in the communication sphere, or the synergistic dynamic, or the honesty, or the harmony, or the respect...i'm gone. i'm not willing to work it out because i don't have to. nine times out of ten it's going to be a waste of my precious, irreplaceable time, energy, and emotions...and why would i want to do that?
the chances of finding Him, the Love of My Life who is at my caliber in strength, maturity, character, intelligence, loyalty, and chivalry are slim. finding a man who is in as much love with my zany and strange, Funky nature as i am is difficult to find. he's going to have to adore how odd i am, first and foremost. my quirks, eccentricities, and off-the-wallness are going to have to crack him up, and inspire wild thoughts of radical intimacy in him.
and the respect will have to live on, at all times. when there's Respect, most of that other drama-filled bullshit just can't grow. it's non-conducive to the growth and maturation of insufferable drama. the moment respect dwindles, i'm gone faster than you can say, "where'd she go?"
but really, i've just slowly come to the realization that i love being me, just the way i am, and i really don't want to change it.
...unless that's what mr. brezsny's talking about. but then...loving my single, mother-to-only-one-child life is a change from my "careerlovemarriagechildren" focus i had early this year. i was determined to make it my reality, and i was in perfect alignment with myself, my soul, my desires when it came to this. now? i don't really, honestly think i want to invite the chaos of more children into my life, let alone the chaos of a man.
i like dating with no commitment. is this awful of me to say? am i shallow? am i selfish? am i afraid of commitment? ...well, i don't think i'm afraid of commitment, because as soon as someone with a real pair steps up, i'm right there meeting him brass for brass. and i usually stay the course far longer than anyone i commit to.
so no, not afraid of commitment. afraid of being trapped, maybe. afraid of attaching myself to what turns out to be yet another loser? definitely. even a newfound drama-free chick like me isn't immune. we're just not as susceptible.
so...i dunno. i don't know what the change and evolution is here that i'm not supposed to be resisting. maybe i'm just full of crap and it's actually talking about an area in my life that i haven't even considered.
that's a definite possibility.
well...shit.
needless to say, this week's influx of brezsny wasn't received well at first. i sat here for a few minutes thinking of the most "colorful" language to express just how not-well it was received.
then i started thinking about it and, to be quite honest, those forces in me have been shifting --or ready to shift-- for quite some time. i've been doing a lot of thinking (not deliberately!) and realizing that some of the things i was holding onto are a little outdated.
and no, we're not talking "fashionably retro," here.
however, it's also brought quite a bit of sadness into my life to think of those things that no longer serve me. especially when they were things to which i was quite dedicated for the longest time. however, the natural progression of my life is showing me that perhaps it isn't exactly in the cards for me anymore. or maybe i'm just not really quite the same person i used to be deep down.
most of it's been centered around careerlovemarriagechildren, and how much i wanted all four, and all four to be "just so," and "just so" to be happy and miraculous and everything i ever dreamed of when i was younger...within reason. i was allowing for reality. i really was.
but with each passing day --the more i see the relationships around me-- the more i realize just how happy i really am unattached and unfettered. i have my routines, my style, my freedom. my bedroom is decorated just the way i like it. i don't have to share leftovers. i don't have to make room, or compromise. i'm free to do what i want, with whom i want, when i want. my honor is answerable to no one but myself (aka. i can sleep with whom i wish, hang out with whom i wish, and ignore whom i wish) without having to consider things like closing myself to the world of possibilities out there.
not only that, but i discovered that i've developed this very serious allergy to drama. we're talking anaphylactic shock, here. the moment there's a breakdown in the communication sphere, or the synergistic dynamic, or the honesty, or the harmony, or the respect...i'm gone. i'm not willing to work it out because i don't have to. nine times out of ten it's going to be a waste of my precious, irreplaceable time, energy, and emotions...and why would i want to do that?
the chances of finding Him, the Love of My Life who is at my caliber in strength, maturity, character, intelligence, loyalty, and chivalry are slim. finding a man who is in as much love with my zany and strange, Funky nature as i am is difficult to find. he's going to have to adore how odd i am, first and foremost. my quirks, eccentricities, and off-the-wallness are going to have to crack him up, and inspire wild thoughts of radical intimacy in him.
and the respect will have to live on, at all times. when there's Respect, most of that other drama-filled bullshit just can't grow. it's non-conducive to the growth and maturation of insufferable drama. the moment respect dwindles, i'm gone faster than you can say, "where'd she go?"
but really, i've just slowly come to the realization that i love being me, just the way i am, and i really don't want to change it.
...unless that's what mr. brezsny's talking about. but then...loving my single, mother-to-only-one-child life is a change from my "careerlovemarriagechildren" focus i had early this year. i was determined to make it my reality, and i was in perfect alignment with myself, my soul, my desires when it came to this. now? i don't really, honestly think i want to invite the chaos of more children into my life, let alone the chaos of a man.
i like dating with no commitment. is this awful of me to say? am i shallow? am i selfish? am i afraid of commitment? ...well, i don't think i'm afraid of commitment, because as soon as someone with a real pair steps up, i'm right there meeting him brass for brass. and i usually stay the course far longer than anyone i commit to.
so no, not afraid of commitment. afraid of being trapped, maybe. afraid of attaching myself to what turns out to be yet another loser? definitely. even a newfound drama-free chick like me isn't immune. we're just not as susceptible.
so...i dunno. i don't know what the change and evolution is here that i'm not supposed to be resisting. maybe i'm just full of crap and it's actually talking about an area in my life that i haven't even considered.
that's a definite possibility.
double take?
hey dad!
y'know, i just wanted to say "thank you" for the absolute fantastic genes you passed on. these sanchez genes are really fantastic, i think. the last few months i've gotten a ton of compliments, people telling me i'm pretty, i'm beautiful, how intelligent i am, etc. i've kind of (only kind of) gotten back into the dating world. nothing serious, just going out and having fun and enjoying myself, and one thing i hear *very* often is, "how is it a smart, beautiful woman like yourself is still single?" of course, i laugh and just say thank you (while in my head i'm saying, "because i know better!" ha ha...) but i just wanted to say thank you. sanchez make some really great people.
i love you!
~me
i sent this email to my bio-dad yesterday afternoon, and actually got a near-immediate reply. in it, he told me that he's been dating too --nothing serious, just going out and doing what he wants to do, and having fun. he says he's really enjoying this "old...new me," as he put it, and equates it to when he was around 25, only much wiser this time around.
then a bit later, i was in the car with *ks* and it hit me...
...my bio-dad and i are out dating...
...at the same time. kinda disturbing.
kinda great. ...but kinda disturbing.
i mean, i'm not one of those daughters who's going to agonize about her father going out and dating --oh gasp!-- or anything like that, and certainly not going to blubber about the indecency of it all. actually, i'm ecstatic that he's as happy as he is, and that he's really gotten out and enjoyed life and rediscovered the joys that are out there. since the divorce, he's really been a different person and it warms my heart immeasurably to know he's so happy.
i know it just can't be --because you can't change the past-- but a part of me wishes for many reasons that my bio-parents had split up when i was still in grade school, preferably earlier. preferably before i hit preschool, in those days when *k* would pick me up out of bed in the middle of the night, bring me to her bed, and huddle with me and cry while our parents fought. i remember only being confused, wondering why there was shouting, and knowing whatever was being said was very serious and was scaring my big sister. i knew it was affecting us kids (it was only her and myself at that time). i knew bio-mom threatened to take us away. i know they fought about *k*, who wasn't my bio-dad's but i wasn't supposed to know that. i knew a lot of things back then.
perhaps all of us would have been filled with an entire universe's expanse-worth of happiness if my bio-parents hadn't stayed together as long as they did. for their reasons --whether or not they were right, or logical, or inspired by love-- they didn't, and we have the Today upon which we find ourselves standing.
standing firm, i'm glad to report.
it just...it was a small awakening, i suppose. my dad's out there, having the same revelations (somewhat) and experiences and inspirations that i am. he has more life and wisdom to draw upon, but i think i'm doing all right for myself. sure, there's a lot i still have to learn, a lot more i still have to put into practice, and tons i will never understand. but for now, i think i'm doing pretty good. and so's my bio-dad, and that really is a comfort.
you go, dad. you go.
y'know, i just wanted to say "thank you" for the absolute fantastic genes you passed on. these sanchez genes are really fantastic, i think. the last few months i've gotten a ton of compliments, people telling me i'm pretty, i'm beautiful, how intelligent i am, etc. i've kind of (only kind of) gotten back into the dating world. nothing serious, just going out and having fun and enjoying myself, and one thing i hear *very* often is, "how is it a smart, beautiful woman like yourself is still single?" of course, i laugh and just say thank you (while in my head i'm saying, "because i know better!" ha ha...) but i just wanted to say thank you. sanchez make some really great people.
i love you!
~me
i sent this email to my bio-dad yesterday afternoon, and actually got a near-immediate reply. in it, he told me that he's been dating too --nothing serious, just going out and doing what he wants to do, and having fun. he says he's really enjoying this "old...new me," as he put it, and equates it to when he was around 25, only much wiser this time around.
then a bit later, i was in the car with *ks* and it hit me...
...my bio-dad and i are out dating...
...at the same time. kinda disturbing.
kinda great. ...but kinda disturbing.
i mean, i'm not one of those daughters who's going to agonize about her father going out and dating --oh gasp!-- or anything like that, and certainly not going to blubber about the indecency of it all. actually, i'm ecstatic that he's as happy as he is, and that he's really gotten out and enjoyed life and rediscovered the joys that are out there. since the divorce, he's really been a different person and it warms my heart immeasurably to know he's so happy.
i know it just can't be --because you can't change the past-- but a part of me wishes for many reasons that my bio-parents had split up when i was still in grade school, preferably earlier. preferably before i hit preschool, in those days when *k* would pick me up out of bed in the middle of the night, bring me to her bed, and huddle with me and cry while our parents fought. i remember only being confused, wondering why there was shouting, and knowing whatever was being said was very serious and was scaring my big sister. i knew it was affecting us kids (it was only her and myself at that time). i knew bio-mom threatened to take us away. i know they fought about *k*, who wasn't my bio-dad's but i wasn't supposed to know that. i knew a lot of things back then.
perhaps all of us would have been filled with an entire universe's expanse-worth of happiness if my bio-parents hadn't stayed together as long as they did. for their reasons --whether or not they were right, or logical, or inspired by love-- they didn't, and we have the Today upon which we find ourselves standing.
standing firm, i'm glad to report.
it just...it was a small awakening, i suppose. my dad's out there, having the same revelations (somewhat) and experiences and inspirations that i am. he has more life and wisdom to draw upon, but i think i'm doing all right for myself. sure, there's a lot i still have to learn, a lot more i still have to put into practice, and tons i will never understand. but for now, i think i'm doing pretty good. and so's my bio-dad, and that really is a comfort.
you go, dad. you go.
11.22.2008
#400
she looked at me, red tattooed face almost glistening as if the red ink were fresh...or as if she had been upon that battlefield with me. amazed, enthralled, i slowly turned my head to look at her. she smiled, and let go of my hand.
i hadn't even noticed she'd been holding it. had she somehow given me the vision...?
"that was from you," she said, her voice lilting and hypnotic. "it was none of my doing." and she looked at me as if she truly had heard my thoughts. but then she smiled and the fierce countenance of the vulture goddess disappeared, and the impish gleam of the revolutionary trickster goddess flashed in her eyes. "you truly are one of us now, sister." she adjusted her skirts --which still dripped slightly with a red that stained into her skin-- and tucked her legs beneath her. she folded her hands and leaned forward, toward me.
it had been so real...the smell of horses, the sound of my men beating their fists against their armored chests and rattling their swords and spears, the feel of my blood pulsing through my body charged with battle lust, the terror and exhilaration of fierce battle...the exhaustion and exhilaration of learning the secret to taming my Inner Flaming Narcissist...
"...have you given any thought to which sect of us you feel most at home, sister?"
her question jolted me out of my reverie. as i looked at her, i saw in my mind's eye every single sister of the pomegranate priestesshood i had met up to that point.
there was the gentle, soft-spoken sister that greeted me when i first stepped onto the grounds of the menstrual temple of the funky grail, smelling of amber and rose dust, pomegranates and peace; the pierced one with the blood-red pendant who spoke to me of anti-role models and rent open my breast with her sickle; she who met me in Valley-in-the-Glade, who first called me "sister"; and the one who sat beside me now, with tattoos of a very different nature, marking her as a very particular sect within the pomegranate priestesshood...those who go into the death.
those who understand the simple yet intimate dance of Life and Death and Rebirth; those who look Death in the eyes and smile at Her eons-old companionship; who are comfortable with their robes dripping with staining blood, taking on the drips and patterns of blood --of life and death-- upon their own bodies; those who understand the balance of All Things...
...those for whom i have a deep affinity, in their eyes.
i looked away, down at my toes deep in the cool damp grass by the blood river, still holding the vial of water-turned-blood. ...i'd never turned water into blood before.
"yes, sister, you have. this is what you don't see," she said.
"you're in my mind," i said. "how?"
she smiled again, tucking a narrow dreadlock behind her ear. the bones and beads decorating the ends of her dreadlocks clacked softly. "it is you who is in mine, sister," was her reply. "we are all within each other's minds, connected through la salvaje dea, 'the wild goddess.' all there is to do is open your mind, which you do by nature of your soul, sister, for you are already open. in fact, you have always been so. those years when you believed yourself so closed, so cold, that was only your outer trappings, for you could never hide what you were.
"how is it you could hear, for a decade and more, la salvaje de la dea call to you?"
i pondered her true question, how it is i had felt deep within me the true Wild nature of the goddess through all the shit and doubt, and all the lies that had been fed to me. i had believed myself to be dead to it all, yet She had called, quietly at first. it had taken me long to understand the true song i was hearing.
now, the pomegranate priestesses called me "sister."
it was a good question: which sect did i feel i most belonged to?
...i thought about it for a very, very long time.
i hadn't even noticed she'd been holding it. had she somehow given me the vision...?
"that was from you," she said, her voice lilting and hypnotic. "it was none of my doing." and she looked at me as if she truly had heard my thoughts. but then she smiled and the fierce countenance of the vulture goddess disappeared, and the impish gleam of the revolutionary trickster goddess flashed in her eyes. "you truly are one of us now, sister." she adjusted her skirts --which still dripped slightly with a red that stained into her skin-- and tucked her legs beneath her. she folded her hands and leaned forward, toward me.
it had been so real...the smell of horses, the sound of my men beating their fists against their armored chests and rattling their swords and spears, the feel of my blood pulsing through my body charged with battle lust, the terror and exhilaration of fierce battle...the exhaustion and exhilaration of learning the secret to taming my Inner Flaming Narcissist...
"...have you given any thought to which sect of us you feel most at home, sister?"
her question jolted me out of my reverie. as i looked at her, i saw in my mind's eye every single sister of the pomegranate priestesshood i had met up to that point.
there was the gentle, soft-spoken sister that greeted me when i first stepped onto the grounds of the menstrual temple of the funky grail, smelling of amber and rose dust, pomegranates and peace; the pierced one with the blood-red pendant who spoke to me of anti-role models and rent open my breast with her sickle; she who met me in Valley-in-the-Glade, who first called me "sister"; and the one who sat beside me now, with tattoos of a very different nature, marking her as a very particular sect within the pomegranate priestesshood...those who go into the death.
those who understand the simple yet intimate dance of Life and Death and Rebirth; those who look Death in the eyes and smile at Her eons-old companionship; who are comfortable with their robes dripping with staining blood, taking on the drips and patterns of blood --of life and death-- upon their own bodies; those who understand the balance of All Things...
...those for whom i have a deep affinity, in their eyes.
i looked away, down at my toes deep in the cool damp grass by the blood river, still holding the vial of water-turned-blood. ...i'd never turned water into blood before.
"yes, sister, you have. this is what you don't see," she said.
"you're in my mind," i said. "how?"
she smiled again, tucking a narrow dreadlock behind her ear. the bones and beads decorating the ends of her dreadlocks clacked softly. "it is you who is in mine, sister," was her reply. "we are all within each other's minds, connected through la salvaje dea, 'the wild goddess.' all there is to do is open your mind, which you do by nature of your soul, sister, for you are already open. in fact, you have always been so. those years when you believed yourself so closed, so cold, that was only your outer trappings, for you could never hide what you were.
"how is it you could hear, for a decade and more, la salvaje de la dea call to you?"
i pondered her true question, how it is i had felt deep within me the true Wild nature of the goddess through all the shit and doubt, and all the lies that had been fed to me. i had believed myself to be dead to it all, yet She had called, quietly at first. it had taken me long to understand the true song i was hearing.
now, the pomegranate priestesses called me "sister."
it was a good question: which sect did i feel i most belonged to?
...i thought about it for a very, very long time.
11.18.2008
countdown, and countUP
this is iGoddess post #399. next post is whopping #400 which means...absolutely nothing. other than the fact that i've had this blog over a year and my average is less than one post a day. my first reaction is to say, "kinda blah, don'cha think?" but then again, i suppose it's better than being one of those people that talks all the time but really doesn't have anything to say. all iGoddess really is, is peeking through an open window into the inside of dee's wonderlicious and zany mind.
also...today's tuesday. T-minus 3 days and counting. maybe. details pending.
also...today's tuesday. T-minus 3 days and counting. maybe. details pending.
11.15.2008
brezsny-on-the-blog
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Check out this excerpt from "Those Who Do Not Dance," by Chilean poet Gabriel Mistral: "God asked from on high,/ 'How do I come down from this blueness?' / We told Him: /come dance with us in the light." I love this passage because it reminds me that nothing is ever set in stone: Everything is always up for grabs. Even God needs to be open to change and eager for fresh truths. Furthermore, even we puny humans may on occasion need to be God's teacher and helper. Likewise, we can never be sure about what lowly or unexpected sources may bring us the influences we require. What do Mistral's words mean to you, Capricorn? Imagine you're the "God" referenced in the poem. What blueness are you ready to come down from, and who might invite you to dance in their light?
i had to sit on this one for quite some time.
the line "even God needs to be open to change and eager for fresh truths," didn't sit well, especially. of course, i set it aside and let my subconscious think about it for me, so i could worry about such things as the Wrath expansion coming out, and my messy apartment, my ribs popping out of their heads and stabbing my lungs while i slept (ow...). y'know, the nice mundane things.
and then...with all the subtlety of a pronoiac miracle, suddenly i woke up and wanted nothing more than to start waking up in the a.m., go to the gym, re-devote myself to business and the grand art of allowing the universe to be wildly in love with me.
and then...just like that...manifested in my reality was a google ad staring me in the face that afternoon --only ten minutes after i'd gotten out of bed-- that led to exactly what i'd been looking for. i just had to make the decision. i just acted. the universe had provided, except this time it threw this chance at me and told me to go long.
i'm still running, and that's the point.
so if i'm god, i was in this blueness and feeling removed from everything, feeling like a failure, feeling detached and unmotivated. i hadn't even considered what bret had suggested. in fact, until he mentioned it, the prospect of being so in touch with nature's cycles that i was reflecting them hadn't even crossed my mind. but i do that. every year. i even get wrinkles, crow's feet at the corners of my eyes and crescent moons around my mouth, the closer we get to yule...that disappear the closer to beltane we get. ever since i'd started following the moon's cycles and really paying attention to the wheel of the year --with its seasons corresponding to our holidays-- this has been a regular thing that happens every year. and yet every fall i always forget, and i'm always surprised when i slow down and start to shut down.
thanks for reminding me, bret. you're a doll and i luv ya!
but i think i was also like the people God was talking to, in my horoscope. the real me, the Funkywild, the pronoiac in me. i was calling myself over to dance in the light. i really wanted to. i wanted to get out of my unFunk, out of the quagmire i was exhausting myself trying to slug through.
i also decided to combat it inside my body as well, not just in my mind and spirit. so i went over to the wonderiffic and utterly miraculous dr. schulze and bought his basics for cleansing and detox. i'm long overdue, and i think that's a huge contributor to my sluggish lackluster, and my fatigue. well, that, and all the taco hell i find myself recently addicted to. gotta cut that out.
so i'll still follow the seasons, still hibernate a bit this fall...but in history, this was also the time our ancestors (and not even all that long ago) were attending to the final details of bracing for the winter. they packed away, stored, provisioned, got out the heavy boots and thick blankets, and in general dug in for the winter. well, i'm gonna dig in, too. only i'm gonna make provisions and dig in and get serious about Freedom Revolution. i'm gonna use the quietude of fall and winter to connect with my body and get cozy with the idea of warm socks, wool afghans, and serious business practices.
...and i'm gonna let in the light for my mind. spiders and dust bunnies were starting to accumulate in the corners.
i had to sit on this one for quite some time.
the line "even God needs to be open to change and eager for fresh truths," didn't sit well, especially. of course, i set it aside and let my subconscious think about it for me, so i could worry about such things as the Wrath expansion coming out, and my messy apartment, my ribs popping out of their heads and stabbing my lungs while i slept (ow...). y'know, the nice mundane things.
and then...with all the subtlety of a pronoiac miracle, suddenly i woke up and wanted nothing more than to start waking up in the a.m., go to the gym, re-devote myself to business and the grand art of allowing the universe to be wildly in love with me.
and then...just like that...manifested in my reality was a google ad staring me in the face that afternoon --only ten minutes after i'd gotten out of bed-- that led to exactly what i'd been looking for. i just had to make the decision. i just acted. the universe had provided, except this time it threw this chance at me and told me to go long.
i'm still running, and that's the point.
so if i'm god, i was in this blueness and feeling removed from everything, feeling like a failure, feeling detached and unmotivated. i hadn't even considered what bret had suggested. in fact, until he mentioned it, the prospect of being so in touch with nature's cycles that i was reflecting them hadn't even crossed my mind. but i do that. every year. i even get wrinkles, crow's feet at the corners of my eyes and crescent moons around my mouth, the closer we get to yule...that disappear the closer to beltane we get. ever since i'd started following the moon's cycles and really paying attention to the wheel of the year --with its seasons corresponding to our holidays-- this has been a regular thing that happens every year. and yet every fall i always forget, and i'm always surprised when i slow down and start to shut down.
thanks for reminding me, bret. you're a doll and i luv ya!
but i think i was also like the people God was talking to, in my horoscope. the real me, the Funkywild, the pronoiac in me. i was calling myself over to dance in the light. i really wanted to. i wanted to get out of my unFunk, out of the quagmire i was exhausting myself trying to slug through.
i also decided to combat it inside my body as well, not just in my mind and spirit. so i went over to the wonderiffic and utterly miraculous dr. schulze and bought his basics for cleansing and detox. i'm long overdue, and i think that's a huge contributor to my sluggish lackluster, and my fatigue. well, that, and all the taco hell i find myself recently addicted to. gotta cut that out.
so i'll still follow the seasons, still hibernate a bit this fall...but in history, this was also the time our ancestors (and not even all that long ago) were attending to the final details of bracing for the winter. they packed away, stored, provisioned, got out the heavy boots and thick blankets, and in general dug in for the winter. well, i'm gonna dig in, too. only i'm gonna make provisions and dig in and get serious about Freedom Revolution. i'm gonna use the quietude of fall and winter to connect with my body and get cozy with the idea of warm socks, wool afghans, and serious business practices.
...and i'm gonna let in the light for my mind. spiders and dust bunnies were starting to accumulate in the corners.
11.14.2008
notes from the universe
Delena, what is it that you'd really, really like to see happen in your life, but have not visualized in a really, really long time?
Right.
Well, let's just say, conditions are now favorable... and it's time to rock and roll.
Go on,
The Universe
Visualizing, Delena, can make a world of difference.
okay, okay...i get it.
Right.
Well, let's just say, conditions are now favorable... and it's time to rock and roll.
Go on,
The Universe
Visualizing, Delena, can make a world of difference.
okay, okay...i get it.
11.13.2008
what a cute little universe...
yesterday and today i spent a huge chunk of time on a new business model, including a new domain name, auto-responders, and massive, massive training. i decided to be my own agent of change, a wellspring from which magical manifestation of Funkalicious determination, drive, and faith bursts forth like a tropical hot springs geyser of Divine Yayness.
and i've been working on a lot, and not just from the business side. i've been making the slow change from utter nocturnalism to diurnal tendencies again. i'm headed back for the gym, working on pilates for my back. and i'm working on the mental shift to get out of the unmotivated quagmire that's had me for the last couple of months.
...and then the universe sends me this awesome little sticky note:
Investment Advice for Turbulent Times
Kindness pays HUGE dividends, Delena, materially and ethereally, forever and ever.
Love on,
The Universe
Live longer, laugh louder, sell more widgets, Delena.
and i've been working on a lot, and not just from the business side. i've been making the slow change from utter nocturnalism to diurnal tendencies again. i'm headed back for the gym, working on pilates for my back. and i'm working on the mental shift to get out of the unmotivated quagmire that's had me for the last couple of months.
...and then the universe sends me this awesome little sticky note:
Investment Advice for Turbulent Times
Kindness pays HUGE dividends, Delena, materially and ethereally, forever and ever.
Love on,
The Universe
Live longer, laugh louder, sell more widgets, Delena.
11.12.2008
my precioussss.....
tonight at 22:00 pacific, GameStop will open its doors for the midnight release party of World of Warcraft's newest expansion, Wrath of the Lich King.
oh, be still my quaking heart. the adventures of onai continue in northrend...after installing.
i am Delena of the Funkywild....and i'm a Druid...
11.10.2008
for you, boho...
so boho mom's comment about wanting dragon stuffies got me thinking... i was like, "dude, it's so easy to find them. they're everywhere!" of course, if i came home with every single dragon stuffie i laid eyes on, i'd have no money for everything else. especially considering some of the prices i find attached to them. but they're wonderful, i love them, and i give each and every single one i have a loving home.
everyone knows they can't ever go wrong giving me a dragon stuffie. it's even better than ice cream...
so i give to you, my dearest bohippian funkmaster of the dancing gypsy feet....my dragons.
this is with my camera phone, so they're not fantastic. but there they are,
all six of them.
(hehe, you can also see a corner of one of my anime wall scrolls;
that particular one's cowboy bebop.)
the big blue one's named mungo. his story has a happy ending,
but its beginning was sad: he sat at the store, alone and unwanted,
for 8 months after all his other friends were bought and taken home.
i looked at him, and he smiled and told me his name, and it was,
"okay, buddy, you're coming home with me." mungo's so cute. he makes me laugh.
yes, those are hearts on sweetheart's tummy. she was my valentine's day
gift to myself. she looks like a pink hippo in this pic until you
realize her wings are pearlescent and therefore kinda blend with my pillow...
and there they are, my trio of trouble:
tiberius, thelonius, and bob.
they rock.
everyone knows they can't ever go wrong giving me a dragon stuffie. it's even better than ice cream...
so i give to you, my dearest bohippian funkmaster of the dancing gypsy feet....my dragons.
this is with my camera phone, so they're not fantastic. but there they are,all six of them.
(hehe, you can also see a corner of one of my anime wall scrolls;
that particular one's cowboy bebop.)
the big blue one's named mungo. his story has a happy ending,but its beginning was sad: he sat at the store, alone and unwanted,
for 8 months after all his other friends were bought and taken home.
i looked at him, and he smiled and told me his name, and it was,
"okay, buddy, you're coming home with me." mungo's so cute. he makes me laugh.
yes, those are hearts on sweetheart's tummy. she was my valentine's daygift to myself. she looks like a pink hippo in this pic until you
realize her wings are pearlescent and therefore kinda blend with my pillow...
and there they are, my trio of trouble:tiberius, thelonius, and bob.
they rock.
of course, those are just my stuffies. those don't include my infinite army of figurines, mugs, pendants, pictures, and books. and not all of my stuffies or figures have names.
of course, dragons are kinda like that. when they're good and ready, they'll let you know what they want you to call them. like, thelonius is always changing his name. he's been 'philitetes,' and 'higerion,' and 'agamemnon,' to name a few. even this morning he said he wanted to be called 'archimedes' now. oi vey...
and i have a pair of candle holders, and they're just "the twins," or "the boys." that's all they'll tell me. and boy, they've been through the ringer! they've survived fire, five moves, and the loss of limbs. *mj* fashioned little prosthetic fingers for them out of his modeling clay, after one move knocked a few off and they disappeared in moving foam and chaos. they were always grumpy to begin with, but now they're downright surly. i love 'em...
dragons. i love them, and they love me.
of course, dragons are kinda like that. when they're good and ready, they'll let you know what they want you to call them. like, thelonius is always changing his name. he's been 'philitetes,' and 'higerion,' and 'agamemnon,' to name a few. even this morning he said he wanted to be called 'archimedes' now. oi vey...
and i have a pair of candle holders, and they're just "the twins," or "the boys." that's all they'll tell me. and boy, they've been through the ringer! they've survived fire, five moves, and the loss of limbs. *mj* fashioned little prosthetic fingers for them out of his modeling clay, after one move knocked a few off and they disappeared in moving foam and chaos. they were always grumpy to begin with, but now they're downright surly. i love 'em...
dragons. i love them, and they love me.
11.07.2008
there is no spoon
yeah. i just found this and wanted to share. nothing more need be said.
Everything you've learned in school as "obvious" becomes less and less obvious as you begin to study the universe. For example, there are no solids in the universe. There's not even a suggestion of a solid. There are no absolute continuums. There are no surfaces. There are no straight lines.
--R. Buckminster Fuller
y'know tagging's illegal in some states...
so this guy tagged me. he really is a great guy, this guy. but bret, you stinker! so now i have to play the game.
Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
oi vey...random things about me? what if you've been dubbed the Random Queen of Zaney WTF? by friends, and "wow, that was random..." is as common to hear as, "hey, dee, wassup?"
hmm...random things about me...
1.) i can stick my whole fist in my mouth. the whole thing. just...don't even ask how i found this out...
2.) my li'l sis *t* and i (and sometimes my li'l bro *aj*) text each other with random movie quotes or lines from songs. we've exchanged entire songs this way, from the time warp to willy wonka, the amazing chocolatier, and even quotes from the princess bride and other fun movies we enjoy. it's a fun game; i highly recommend it. lots of inside-jokes and memorable memories come to the fore. yup yup.
3.) i still love (and have a small collection of) stuffed animals. "my stuffies," i call them. quite a few of them are dragons...surprise surprise. one of them's a hand puppet; a 3-headed hydra, whose names are Tiberius, Thelonius, and Bob. yeah, you heard me right: Bob.
4.) my sexy, mean strap-on queen sheree drew me this lovely picture of me as a mermaid --a huge smile on my face-- with the Funk in one hand, and my little joymines in the other. i still have it.
5.) i really do want pink go-go boots...
6.) my bio-dad used to call me la amazona, and used to say i was born to the wrong family. i should've grown up in a log cabin deep in the woods somewhere, and someday i was gonna grow up to marry me a mountain man and have strapping, paul bunyan children. every year when fall comes around, when the leaves are vibrant yet piling up in drifts on the side of the road and carpeting everything you see to the horizon...when nights grow longer and days grow colder, greyer, wetter... when the parkas and the flannel and the thick-soled boots come out...when men neglect to shave because it's warmer that way (which i don't mind, because facial hair is so effing sexy)...i always grin, or flat-out laugh to myself because i remember what he used to say. i can hear his voice calling me "amazona," and i say to myself, "mountain man..." look where i ended up living! while totally in left field about a lot of aspects about me, his firstborn, on that one i'd say he was pretty dead on.
....just don't know where ima marry me a mountain man.
....now comes the part mas dificÃl: actually tagging six people.
1. azzy, the Ultimate RP'er of Frakking DOOM. omg. her mad rp skillz will leave you sobbing and hiccupping, complete with snot running down your face, as you realize just what an utter n00b you are compared to her uberiffic awesome-liciousness of RP mastery. in other moods, i also call her my muse, and sometimes my idol. when i grow up, i wanna be as cool as she is. you merely look at her, and you are knocked back by the mystic power of her pwnage.
azzy, sugar baby honey pie, you effing rock.
2. my greggo. i think he's the only man i've been so devotionally and solidly in love with for the longest time in my life -- evar. honestly, what else can you say about your best friend who truly has been a best friend? we've run the gamut of emotions and stages in a deep friendship, struggled with issues that really only brought out the issues we were struggling with inside our own selves. can't stand each other, bicker, fight, hurt, love, compliment, bolster, support, listen, cry, tease, aggravate, give... been there, done that. i might not be in love with some of his choices, especially not his choice to shackle himself to a cold fish i have to force myself not to insult at any opportunity. i don't love his tendency to be drawn to sick women with Issues. i can't stand that he refuses to entertain the possibility of believing that he can outshine the stars. but...i love him. he's my greggo. and all those things i can't stand come with the package, and make him the man i've been in love with longer than any other man in my life. and there's so much about him i love that i think i'll just spend the rest of our friendship naming them all.
how's that for commitment and devotion, babe? i fucking love you...
3. nydia, nydia...oh, how i love nydia! nydia the craft-art lady. and that's "craft" in both senses of the word, wink wink. she's just so phenominal, and i love watching her work. she brings the spirit of witchcraft home like few people i know. and she's so brilliantly creative and confident, self-aware, and her mind is just fascinating. i love creative people. they get my own juices simmering. with nydia? it's steam!
4. goddess leonie. when they say a picture is worth a thousand words, they don't remember to think about leonie. what happens when you see a picture and it takes your breath away? what happens when you see a picture and words are stolen from you so you can't even remember how to speak? longing and wonderment and joy and inspiration so deep and raw is why they invented art, and music, and dance. some things just can't be expressed in words. every time i visit there, i walk away reminded of how special i truly am.
5. divalicious mich. i want her centeredness. hands down. want want want. but it's not an envious want. it's more i simply look up to her and wonder what secret she knows that keeps her so...centered. and even though we've never talked, i can almost hear her inside my head...laughing at me...telling me that i already know that there is no great and wonderiffic secret to know. she'd tell me i already know, and i'm rockin', too. she's just so Funktastic like that.
6. jane in the painted house. if i'm ever in her neck of the woods and craving a cuppa java, fresh air, and a walk in-around-and-about those cute little stores off the beaten path, i can bet she'd be game for it and our day would be filled with so much fun, laughter, and trading old war stories for our own entertainment. you know, because we're such rockin' hot, divalicious soul masters now that we can laugh at our own fucktardedness. this woman rocks. she's been through so much, and lifted herself so high. there's no award high enough the human race has to offer. and i love her gift with a camera. she's so brave and real in front of it. i'm not quite there yet. but it's another thing (of MANY!) to admire about her.
(7. and boho mom, you know i luv ya. i'm one of your biggest fans. i'd have tagged you, too, but you already got yourself good and tagged. but MWAH! *blows kisses*)
there. i've done been tagged.
Here are the rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
oi vey...random things about me? what if you've been dubbed the Random Queen of Zaney WTF? by friends, and "wow, that was random..." is as common to hear as, "hey, dee, wassup?"
hmm...random things about me...
1.) i can stick my whole fist in my mouth. the whole thing. just...don't even ask how i found this out...
2.) my li'l sis *t* and i (and sometimes my li'l bro *aj*) text each other with random movie quotes or lines from songs. we've exchanged entire songs this way, from the time warp to willy wonka, the amazing chocolatier, and even quotes from the princess bride and other fun movies we enjoy. it's a fun game; i highly recommend it. lots of inside-jokes and memorable memories come to the fore. yup yup.
3.) i still love (and have a small collection of) stuffed animals. "my stuffies," i call them. quite a few of them are dragons...surprise surprise. one of them's a hand puppet; a 3-headed hydra, whose names are Tiberius, Thelonius, and Bob. yeah, you heard me right: Bob.
4.) my sexy, mean strap-on queen sheree drew me this lovely picture of me as a mermaid --a huge smile on my face-- with the Funk in one hand, and my little joymines in the other. i still have it.
5.) i really do want pink go-go boots...
6.) my bio-dad used to call me la amazona, and used to say i was born to the wrong family. i should've grown up in a log cabin deep in the woods somewhere, and someday i was gonna grow up to marry me a mountain man and have strapping, paul bunyan children. every year when fall comes around, when the leaves are vibrant yet piling up in drifts on the side of the road and carpeting everything you see to the horizon...when nights grow longer and days grow colder, greyer, wetter... when the parkas and the flannel and the thick-soled boots come out...when men neglect to shave because it's warmer that way (which i don't mind, because facial hair is so effing sexy)...i always grin, or flat-out laugh to myself because i remember what he used to say. i can hear his voice calling me "amazona," and i say to myself, "mountain man..." look where i ended up living! while totally in left field about a lot of aspects about me, his firstborn, on that one i'd say he was pretty dead on.
....just don't know where ima marry me a mountain man.
[-=@=-]
....now comes the part mas dificÃl: actually tagging six people.
1. azzy, the Ultimate RP'er of Frakking DOOM. omg. her mad rp skillz will leave you sobbing and hiccupping, complete with snot running down your face, as you realize just what an utter n00b you are compared to her uberiffic awesome-liciousness of RP mastery. in other moods, i also call her my muse, and sometimes my idol. when i grow up, i wanna be as cool as she is. you merely look at her, and you are knocked back by the mystic power of her pwnage.
azzy, sugar baby honey pie, you effing rock.
2. my greggo. i think he's the only man i've been so devotionally and solidly in love with for the longest time in my life -- evar. honestly, what else can you say about your best friend who truly has been a best friend? we've run the gamut of emotions and stages in a deep friendship, struggled with issues that really only brought out the issues we were struggling with inside our own selves. can't stand each other, bicker, fight, hurt, love, compliment, bolster, support, listen, cry, tease, aggravate, give... been there, done that. i might not be in love with some of his choices, especially not his choice to shackle himself to a cold fish i have to force myself not to insult at any opportunity. i don't love his tendency to be drawn to sick women with Issues. i can't stand that he refuses to entertain the possibility of believing that he can outshine the stars. but...i love him. he's my greggo. and all those things i can't stand come with the package, and make him the man i've been in love with longer than any other man in my life. and there's so much about him i love that i think i'll just spend the rest of our friendship naming them all.
how's that for commitment and devotion, babe? i fucking love you...
3. nydia, nydia...oh, how i love nydia! nydia the craft-art lady. and that's "craft" in both senses of the word, wink wink. she's just so phenominal, and i love watching her work. she brings the spirit of witchcraft home like few people i know. and she's so brilliantly creative and confident, self-aware, and her mind is just fascinating. i love creative people. they get my own juices simmering. with nydia? it's steam!
4. goddess leonie. when they say a picture is worth a thousand words, they don't remember to think about leonie. what happens when you see a picture and it takes your breath away? what happens when you see a picture and words are stolen from you so you can't even remember how to speak? longing and wonderment and joy and inspiration so deep and raw is why they invented art, and music, and dance. some things just can't be expressed in words. every time i visit there, i walk away reminded of how special i truly am.
5. divalicious mich. i want her centeredness. hands down. want want want. but it's not an envious want. it's more i simply look up to her and wonder what secret she knows that keeps her so...centered. and even though we've never talked, i can almost hear her inside my head...laughing at me...telling me that i already know that there is no great and wonderiffic secret to know. she'd tell me i already know, and i'm rockin', too. she's just so Funktastic like that.
6. jane in the painted house. if i'm ever in her neck of the woods and craving a cuppa java, fresh air, and a walk in-around-and-about those cute little stores off the beaten path, i can bet she'd be game for it and our day would be filled with so much fun, laughter, and trading old war stories for our own entertainment. you know, because we're such rockin' hot, divalicious soul masters now that we can laugh at our own fucktardedness. this woman rocks. she's been through so much, and lifted herself so high. there's no award high enough the human race has to offer. and i love her gift with a camera. she's so brave and real in front of it. i'm not quite there yet. but it's another thing (of MANY!) to admire about her.
(7. and boho mom, you know i luv ya. i'm one of your biggest fans. i'd have tagged you, too, but you already got yourself good and tagged. but MWAH! *blows kisses*)
there. i've done been tagged.
11.06.2008
hurry up and wait
i realized the other day that november's already starting to pick up speed, and i've barely written a handful of posts in the last couple of months. i don't know if i've been totally unmotivated, if i've just been living inside my head, or if i've been holding my breath waiting for so many other things to happen that there just doesn't seem to be anything to say.
everyone around me here in my iVillage seems to be all about renewal, reflection, rededication, reconciliation, all these re's that i just don't feel right now. i feel all these desires and motivations inside me, like little jumping beans, yet i can't muster any feeling for them. i just don't care enough to make them a priority. even my little pleasure indulgences, like playing Oblivion or getting a pedicure. and we all know how much delena loves her feet and treats her little piggies like ten li'l wiggly princesses.
i've got a few huge changes coming up, some i've mentioned --like my big 3-0-- and others i haven't. i feel kind of like that woman who's just found out she's pregnant, but has had a few miscarriages in the past and so is hesitant to say anything until at least the first trimester's over. y'know...just in case. that's kind of how i feel: afraid and hesitant and unwilling to say anything just yet, in case plans fall through for any number of reasons.
with some things, for some mysterious reason that's not as mysterious as i'm letting on, i'm unwilling to place certain bets or believe certain things right now. one change includes the possible addition of a new person into my life, and a majority of myself only things, "i'll believe it when i see it." i'd love for it to happen, but i'm not gonna go out and buy five thousand shares of stock, y'know?
another change is just an old change with new wrapping. it didn't meet with a whole hell of a lot of success before, and i approach it with skepticism now. i know it's counter-productive. i know it. believe just takes so much energy right now. *ds* still hasn't received her inheritance check, and she and *ks* have been so "we'll A, B, C, and D...when the check comes." the phrase "when the check comes" has become so route that it's actually created a povlovian response in me now. i can't help it, but i just want to sigh and say, "yeah, right." i swear i hate that check, and it's not even here yet. every day i try to think of something to say when/if it finally does arrive, other than, "it's about fucking time." that wouldn't exactly be inspiring.
so many things that i just want to hurry up and get themselves happened, already! it's like i'm standing at a signpost that says, "please wait here...sucker."
stuck in a quagmire of waiting for things to happen. in the meantime, i go about life...but i swear there's simply no luster in things that used to give me such simple joy. i even look at my Notes from the Universe and have to make myself believe them and not delete them.
not to mention september and october had huge chunks where simply existing was exhausting. pronoia's taking a lot of effort lately. that's all.
11.02.2008
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