Random Acts of Awesome

Like a boundary challenged admirer... Ugh. I have to go back to NH soon, for the funeral of a family friend/uncle. Someone I grew up with, who I loved very much. Who also scared the shit out of me, who I didn't really understand, but who I learned a lot from. I haven't had time to deal with his death. He's been dying for a long time, but I've been gone. The last time I saw him, he was still hale and hearty, a big, handsome man with a huge smile. He was ready to die by the time he was gone, and it was good for him to be able to go. But damn. I... I don't deal with death and loss very well. Who does, right? But I get sick. Like, instant, physical manifestation of stress. Belly goes haywire, constant stress headache, sniffling and sneezing to come soon. It's ridiculous, and weak. Drives me insane. I desperately don't want to go to this funeral. And if I'm being honest with myself, it's because I don't want to see the people who are going to be

I was at a good friends house yesterday, making huge batches of ravioli with a group of women. It was a ridiculous amount of fun. The women who were there had everything to do with that, of course. Making ravioli is a LOT of fucking work. It's cool, and kind of zen. But it's not fun. The women, though... the women were fun. Julie, the woman whose house we were at, is amazing. She's a mama, and a sex kitten, and a philosopher, and a theoretician, and a girly girl, and just a brilliant human being. She's also a good friend. And she's teaching me some lessons about friendship that I should have learned a long time ago. I've always had a hard time relating to women. They feel like alien creatures from another planet, and when I try to talk to them, especially in groups, I get incredibly discombobulated and uncomfortable. I just don't know what to say. They're talking about things, for the most part, that don't make any sense to me. It's not th

I'm avoiding going home in order to avoid dealing with drama. Doesn't this feel familiar. I'm drinking too much to avoid dealing with drama. I'm spending too much, I'm eating too much... I'm pretty much just being a giant fucking pussy, because I hate dealing with drama. Even when its drama I've created. I need to own up to my shit. It's not all me, but I certainly helped create the situation that leads to this shit. Ugh. Ok. I need to go home and sleep next to someone who's probably not going to be talking to me, I get to deal with the cold shoulder for now, because I'm not allowed to push the issue for my own comfort. Lancing the boil works for me, but it doesn't work for everyone. And I have to just fucking deal with that. As much as it sucks. And it really fucking sucks. I hate the silent treatment more than almost anything. I hate cold politeness. This is why I have such a hard time with the idea of dating a woman, because this is h

I release you. I wish for you justice, and love, and a return of all that you have wished for me. And I let you go. I lose the hooks you had buried in my skin. I wash them away with intention, with mugwort and nutmeg and clove and rosemary. I stare into the gentle flame, and I breath in the smoke. I sluice my skin with water and soap, and I watch the strings wrapped around my heart dissolve and run down the drain, a black dirt I didn't realize fouled my soul. I don't wish you harm. I just wish you gone. From my brain, from my actions, from my feelings. Just as I wish justice for you, I wish justice for me. I will suffer for what wrong I have done. But not for you. I suffer for myself, and for those to come who are worthy of my love. I am not sorry for your pain. You've brought it on yourself, you've actively pursued it and embraced it in your life. Just as I have. I choose to stop pursuing pain. I hope you come to the same decision. I really do. Goodbye. I hope yo

It's funny. There are two, extremely different parts of me. One part of me reads science books for fun, is extremely skeptical, believes firmly in the power of rational thought, and takes comfort in the knowledge that when I die my body will do nothing more than fertilize the ground it resides in (no formaldehyde for me, thankyouverymuch!). And then there's the other part of me. The part of me that believes in past lives, that believes in ghosts, believes very deeply in the absolute power of will and intention, and believes that power can be formed and shaped, can be manipulated. That part of me would have been burned at the stake a couple hundred years ago. That part of me acknowledges the fact that I'm a witch (I'm not a witch, I'm your wife!), believes that I can pluck rosemary from my garden and use it to help me shape my life. It believes in the power other people can hold over me. Believes that the life I live now is a stone skipping the surface of a vast se

Grow the fuck up. Happiness will never be found outside your self. It is nobodies fault but your own that you take and you take and you take, and yet somehow the void never gets filled. Look to yourself to fulfill your needs, and once you've done that you might be capable of filling someone elses.

Fall:

Summer:

Spring:

Winter:

What I really really want... I wanna! I wanna! I always hear the next part as tear your body down and slam it all around. That doesn't say much for my mental health. The other day, my friend asked me what I wanted in a man. She asked me to detail it out, what would make me swoon, believe in true love, my dream lover... all that jazz. I couldn't do it. She asked me why, and I said it was because when I know what I want, it generally comes to me. I can manifest like a motherfucker. And I don't want true love to come to me right now. I'm not ready for it. I'm not the type of person yet that I want to be, which means that I'm not ready for love. And it was true. I'm not ready, mostly because I'm not going to attract to me the kind of guy I want to fall in love with. Good lord. It sounds so controlling. And it is, but only of myself. So, instead of manifesting true love, I'm going to manifest my true self. That's right. I said it. Fucking hip

I woke up with an old hymn stuck in my head. It was a song that we used to sing ALL THE FREAKING time at meetings. And, oh, it was a bad song. Terrible words, poorly written music... but it was an extremely effective ear worm. "Sing out with joy of heart. You too can have a part. Live for the day ::long pause:: When you'll say ::long pause:: Life without end at last". Ugh. Just. Ugh. I woke with it stuck in my head because I had a dream about going back to my old Kingdom Hall. I was visiting family, and went to a meeting with them. And was treated like a beloved prodigal daughter, returning after a short absence by most of them. All of these sweet elderly women kept coming up to me, kissing me on the cheek, and exclaiming over me. People I haven't seen in over ten years, looking the same in my dream as the last time I saw them, were coming up and hugging me, telling me they loved me and I wasn't to leave again. And the entire dream I felt like I was walking th

You bastion of adorably nerdy, oh so typically NW men. No wonder I love you so. With your constant supply of bearded brewing nerds, with your free flowing supply of 12% barley wine. With your bathrooms that are so conveniently private and perfect for illicit trysts...

What am I thankful for? I'm thankful for a lot of things. For one, I'm thankful that I'm not a complete and utter idiot. That sounds snarky, but I'm really thankful for that fact. It could have been different. I could have very easily fallen into a unquestioning sort of coma, gotten married young, had babies, stayed religious, been a part of a close knit, incredibly judgmental community... So I guess I'm more thankful for being given the strength to walk away from that life than anything else. Thanks Mom and Dad! I know you didn't mean it to work out quite this way, but thank you for teaching me to think for myself and to question structure :). On that note, I'm thankful for a family I can still love and respect. I don't see them often enough, but I'm grateful for the foundation of memories that's helped me become the person I am today. I've still got a ways to go, but I like who I am now. And I owe that, to a large extent, to a loving,

Having pron in the subject has led to some interesting traffic to my site. I feel kind of bad, though I can't help but giggle, at the idea of somebody getting directed here for porn and being all What. The Fuck. Is this shit??! Yes, this is porn. Disturbingly sexy, is what it is... Yes, I find weird things sexy. Pomegranates are fucking sexy. So is this...