Random Acts of Awesome

Oh, Tom Waits. You provide the soundtrack to every moment of my imaginary life. I'm sitting in a small little restaurant/cafe called Grandmas Corner. It's adorable, with blue collar food, atmosphere, and folk. I kind of love it. It's run by a sweet mother and son team, who my imagination has latched onto. I see the son, a sandy haired proper Irish boy, looking at me often. And I see his mother noticing and smiling. And I imagine what my life would be, attached to these people. I imagine early mornings, hard work, checkercloth table tops, home with sagging doors and warm kitchens. I imagine family, and strength, support and love. Kids and dogs, hard times, hard work, hard life. And I fall a little in love with him, with them. I want her to approve of me, him to love me. I want that life, just for a moment. I wish I could live each life I see, till the end. Not leaving unnaturally early, not hurting others, not disappointing them. I wish I could live all these lives to t...

Right from the start... I gave you my heart!! God, that song brings back the fucking WEIRDEST memories. The back seat of my grandmothers car, all blue velour seats and scratchy fabric in the back window well. Playing with sesame street toys while her and my mother took passive aggressive pot shots at each other in the front seats... All these memories that no one can ever share, not really. It's no wonder that we all feel so alone in our own heads. You're so sure that nobody knows you. Nobody sees the real you. All we know of you is what you let us see, right? No. I see you, Dawnie. I see the overflowing love in your heart that you don't believe anyone will ever really deserve, that you don't know if you'll ever really deserve. I see the darkness constantly trying to creep its way in around the edges of your laughter, that overflows into your eyes sometimes even as your lips smile and your words shock us and make us laugh. I see you constantly fighting it bac...

I've been mulling over a story idea lately. It would be kind of an amazing one. If only I had the discipline to actually write it. I can't tell you how many stories I've started, and then gotten too bored with to finish. I'm not so much bored with the story as I am with the reality of WRITING the story. Even short stories seem to be beyond my abilities. Anyways, the story. I've been mulling over the meaning of fear quite a bit lately. What fear is, how it affects us, how it shapes our lives. I've been looking at my own life, and seeing these fear shaped holes that I've created. They're not external forces, crafting my reality. These holes are simply the negative space that I haven't put anything inside, and their borders are composed of fear. I was thinking about this reality as I walked through my spooky fucking backyard after dark last night, carrying my load of laundry. And shining my flashlight in every corner of the yard, imagining serial k...

There is this amazing book, by Doris Lessing, called Prisons we choose to live inside. I read it when I was in my early twenties, and it changed my life. The book itself focuses on the world at large, but I took the knowledge I'd gained from it and focused it on my own life. Or tried to. Relatively unsuccessfully, as it turns out. I've always known that I have a very strong tendency to create boundaries for myself, to create these rigid structures that provide me with a reassuring sense of being held in, being held back. When I was young, it was provided for me, in the form of a religion that did not let me be myself in any way, shape, or form. When I left that religion, I had a year of pure freedom. And then I created a prison for myself in the form of a relationship that I didn't want to be in. I grew to love J very much, but in the beginning, I was a swirling morass of "HOLY SHIT, WHAT AM I DOING??!". And I stayed in that relationship far, far longer than...

I don't know if you still read my blog at all. You unfriended me pretty quickly, and since I got a shit ton of traffic from facebook in the days right before that, and most of the posts accessed referenced you in some way... I can only assume you came here, read what I wrote about you a couple years ago, and walked away. I read through most of those posts, and I can't say as I blame you. They're both flattering and cruel. I feel bad, on some levels. I always tried so damn hard to be honest with you. I really, genuinely liked you. Like you. But there was always something there that blocked my honesty. I don't blame you for that, of course. It was my own weakness, my own stupid, bullshit issues. Regardless of the reasons, every time I tried to open up to you, to pull you into my real world, I froze up. The result of that is the posts you must have read. Truth, yes. I'm not ashamed of them. There's nothing in here that I didn't mean, nothing I shouldn't...

I don't know what it is about autumn, but it ALWAYS makes me feel discontented. It always makes me feel like I should have more, somehow. More friends, more beauty, more happiness, more stability... more of everything. At the same time, I love autumn more than any other season. I don't know if I like what that says about me... But I do. I love it. I love the slow, golden sunshine, the wind that blows the scent of leaves and brown earth in through my windows. I love the harvest theme, the vegetables, the colors, the slowly shortening days that make time feel like a candy that's been slowly sucked all year till it's finally getting to the brittle, sharp edged end. Everything about fall, I love. But. I spent all day today feeling like I should be doing more. I woke up late, made myself a wonderful breakfast that involved maple syrup (everything has to involve maple syrup in the fall. Even onions and curry.), went and picked up three huge bundles of free firewood fo...

I always said I'd never try hallucinogens, because I didn't trust my grasp on reality to be strong enough to keep my tethered to the earth with something trying to pull me away. Well. I didn't really think of mushrooms as hallucinogens. I did them once, long ago. Had some mushroom tea with a group of people I really should not have been taking any sort of illegal substance with. Bunch of stupid guys. Fortunately for me, the tea didn't affect me in any way, shape or form. I didn't even feel buzzed. So, a couple months ago, I did them again. Just me and Stoph, who's done them plenty of times. And again, it barely affected me. I felt buzzed, and happy. Super giggly. But not high. Same with the next time I did them. It was honestly just a truly pleasant, mellow buzz. The last time I did them, though... yeah. Not so much. I know why they call it tripping now. Because you truly do trip and fall down a rabbit hole. Looking back on the experience now, it's fas...