When I’m not doing something with passion, I become complacent and bored.  My self-worth depletes which turns into co-dependence.  I start seeking and sabotaging.  A part of my whole fractures which I then expect other people to do the mending; to validate my existence or place here. I spent the better part of the morning sitting in front of the mirror, studying my eyes.  The windows to my soul.  I cried.  I wrote.  I accepted.  A change happens when one takes on the fear.  To embrace it and shake it out.

The past 10 days have been a challenge.  Finding a semblance of contentment within the chaos is a skill I forget to use.  The Tao Te Ching says to use the empty space that we create within a confine.  We are the middle of the wheel, that which turns the whole.  When our spokes break, we need to repair them immediately or the wheel weakens.  Same is true in life, when we don’t clean up those issues that hover in our empty space, they create conflict and weaken our spirits.  So it is in this post I leave behind the issues of others that I take on, the issues and demands I put on others.  It is here that I make a commitment to stand proudly as me and show my strength to the person in the mirror.

It’s time to do cartwheels in the park.  Even if I’m cold.

You are love.

remarkably distracted

THere’s a fly on my wall.  Well, not my wall but my monitor.  It watched everything I write today.  Even that little fucking centipede I trapped under the glass in my sink.  Even it knows.

I did something stupid today.  Again.  Ya know, when you only have two feet, you’d think I would keep my mouth shut.  Nope.  Once again, it all comes spewing out.  I could logically blame PMS but that would be so blasé.  In reality, it’s my deep desire to do the right thing.  To emote all the shit inside my head that I refuse to talk about or think I’m obsessing over.

Nothing more needs to be said.  The crow eats at night.

a keeper

there is something about waking in the deep early morning, reaching out to a ghostly figure.  In your minds eye there is a shadow, an entity beside you.  Your lonely hands reach out to pull it near but it is just air.  Weary eyes pry open to the window as a wavering light seeps through the pane.

originally hers

I was recently messing about with my new gmail account, an attempt to micro conglomerate POP servers, when I came across a long lost blog.  Musings and misunderstandings.  Clearly there were some issues at hand when I wrote the two meager postings…sometimes, I scare myself a little.

a girl

Sometimes all a girl needs is a little sleep. What is considered a little sleep is sometimes dangerous. What is considered dangerous is sometimes a girl. This girl, she doesn’t live here anymore. Sometimes happened to her. Some times. Those times when your guts have hit the floor and you vomit your feet through your nose. Some of those times. Some times when you have to disengage. Times are just a story. A story we tell ourselves to cause. To be cause. Just because. An evolution of theory. A manipulation of our senses. Danger! This girl – all she needs is a little sleep.

cat or mouse

In her sleep she caught a mouse. Between her teeth. She clenched. She doesn’t want to play cat and mouse, it’s the blood. Fear and blood. She should rip that mouses head off and hammer it into the wood panels. But instead she coddles the pulsing mouse. It’s her baby. Fat tears fall from her eyes. She can feel herself heaving in her bed. What she hears is a small voice squeaking down the hall. Like Poe’s beating heart it drives her mad. Paralyzed with sleep her dream self stares at her. Blood pours down her cheeks and soaks her gown. Squeak squeak. Squeak squeak. The headless mouse cries for home.

pppoot

Procrastination is looming.  It’s looking over my left shoulder wondering when my chair will get scratchy and these two dangling things at the bottom of my legs will get restless.  I refuse to give in.  Peter Gabriel is telling me something about your eyes.  As much as procrastination loves listening to the radio, it’s in the best interest of everything else to put on some chamber music.  Anything sans lyrics.  Lyrics fuel the growth of procrastination.  Especially when the stereo has mysteriously turned itself up loudly and the dangling things want to move quickly about the floor.  Chair dancing.

There is this spot in my belly that is shouting at me.  Someone would tell me to do something about it because he can smell hunger on my breath.  Gads, if he can smell hunger I wonder what else that hounds nose can smell.  Do you think he can smell ovulation?  I wouldn’t doubt it.  <insert taboo here> Does any other woman experience a musky scent when ovulating?  I’m  not sure if this is normal but it actually cranks my libido to 11.  The scent, that is.  Then it’s all juicy and fat and that makes for half a day spent in bed.  Which makes me think about what happened to me the other night.  My head still hangs in horrific shame.  So I’m asleep…as much as sleep holds my attention…in a new environment.  An environment where one will go out of his/her (mostly her I would think) way to avoid all involuntary bodily expulsions.  Better known as farting.  Yeah.  Just at the moment my brain was entering into a coma my ass decides to rip one off.  I woke up so suddenly and so mortified I screamed. AHHHHH! or maybe it was YO!  I can’t remember but my shame is still very real.  Good thing it didn’t scare the shit out of me… Appreciation and gratitude to the powers that be that it didn’t smell bad.  My mortification would have been crawling home using my very own hands and knees.  I vow to NEVER eat wheat again!  It felt so good to get home and fart all day.  I think I lost 5 lbs. in air.