Random Acts of Awesome

I decided that I didn't want to be alone anymore yesterday, so I put an ad up on Craigslist looking for someone to eat sushi and watch Star Wars with. It was a good ad. And I got some great responses. But I woke up at 5:30 this morning, depressed and uncomfortable, thinking about those responses. Thinking about my reaction to emails from men, how I felt compelled to become a different person for each email, responding how I thought they would themselves respond best to. It was a conscious decision, to not be myself, and it felt kind of great. Because it felt like putting on an old suit that you didn't think would fit you anymore but still does and still makes your ass look great. But then you stand there for a while in front of the mirror, looking at yourself in this old outfit, and you remember everything that happened to you in this outfit. You remember why it was so important that your ass look great, because there was certainly nothing else about life that was making you f

I have this really strong inclination towards mysticism. I have since I was a little kid. There were creatures inhabiting my world with me, going on walks with me through snow shrouded pine forests, climbing trees with me, hiding in swamps with me... My world was populated with every manner of imaginary creature, and some not so imaginary. I had no doubts or questions, though I did often wish that I didn't see so much. Sadly, because of the religion I was raised in, everything I saw was evil. I knew it wasn't angels, I never once thought my world was populated with angels. Everything I saw was earthy and mischievous, sometimes very dark, sometimes very light, but never from God. Which I was taught meant that it had to be from the Devil. There was no room for anything else. Light was good, dark was bad. Even worse, since it would have been very inconvenient to this religions hold on its people if God still manifested himself in some way to individuals OTHER than the Governing Bo

I woke up sad this morning. Lying in bed with two adorable muppet dogs cuddled up against my back, staring out a huge window at a beautifully foggy sunrise, I wondered why I was so sad. Was it because I was up at sunrise after not getting to sleep till 2am? Maybe. But that creates cranky, not sadness. I watched funny videos on facebook, and found myself with tears streaking down my cheeks as I laughed. "What the fuck, self. It's too early to be having an angsty, existential crisis'", I self deprecated, uncomfortable with tears over nothing, even lying alone in bed with a cell phone in front of my face. And then I started going through my memory of last night. I cried with my sister last night. We cried together when we saw each other a couple of weeks ago, too. We actually cry a lot when we're around each other. And we don't really cry together. We cry on two separate sides of a gaping chasm. And while we are crying for the same reason, the cause of that re

Change tends to happen for me in a slow but steady crawl that suddenly turns into a screaming dive off the edge of a galaxy, with no warning of the transition. 2 weeks ago, I was looking at houses in Mexico, no idea where I was going and happy with that. Sort of. Increasingly stressed with that, because I had this strong and growing stronger sense that I had stopped learning and was just doing again. It felt like my discontent was stemming from me insisting on a course of action that was no longer necessary. But I still wanted to travel. I am addicted to the feeling of being in a new place, addicted to discovery and movement. The addiction part was making me nervous. So. A couple of days ago I read an ad on the housesitting site, a couple looking for a caretaker for their farm for an extended period of time. The length of time wasn't really what I was looking for, almost a year, and it was in Washington state, which I was a little torn about. Beautiful, but weirdly unfriendly p