Confessions 10/15

Elevator Confesstions:
Lord It has been a long time, I think since before the ICU I am certain that I have sinned.
* I confess that I have lived in this house 9 months compiling about the weak light in my living room, and just figured out the dimmer switch. Not sure if that's a yay me.
* Aforementioned hospital stay scared the proverbial e-mortal shit out of me, and has caused me to re-think just about everything in my life in a very rapid manner, I do not hesitate the use of quantum leap in the speed at which these changes have taken place. Example: My phone was stolen, and I did not utterly lose my shit. I would have. It's a major trigger for me. I didn't. At all. Nothing. Didn't even raise my voice.
* I am grateful for the opportunity for the SCS Trial Dec 17, and the immediate lockdown on a driver. Double Wow. That is like flying over the Pacific and looking for a Blue Whale… in a helicopter.
* I confess that I make historical posts to remind anyone under 30 that shit happened before they were born. A LOT of shit. Shit that has already been re-written in MY 47 years, that I WATCHED and now the spin doctors are trying to tell me that it was someone else's fault and other people who watched it with me are on the bandwagon. I like to REMIND. Sometimes, I need reminding myself, bet there are only 3 or 4 trusted insiders I'll take that from, they know who and when.
* I confess that my life just became so much more simple. I'm relying purely on energetics. Nothing more, nothing less.
* I confess that I couldn't care less about when I should or should not be sleeping according to other's wishes. I spent 30 years on someone's clock. Now I'm on mine, and I'm resting, Some days it's not great, some days it's fantastic. But in the end, it is mine, and mine alone.
* Don't expect much from me in November, it's NaNoWriMo, and I have a novel to burn out in 30 days. That's 50,000 words fin 30 days or normal people. Hell or high water, I am doing it this year on the count. I did it last year, but in longhand. 

The Only Way Out is Through

I haven't written a post in a while because the old emotions have been pretty scattered and raw, as though someone had taken an Amish draw blade to the edges of my very soul. I'd been prepping for months for a surgery on my spine. Going to every appointment, arranging for drivers (like flying over the Pacific and finding a Blue Whale) however randomly scheduled, in whatever end of the state they made the appointment, and whatever randomly selected, painful, useless, just-for-fun test they scheduled, and three days before the procedure, they cancel it. Why? Because my bitch shrink, after 4 hour-plus appointments could not manage to type two, non-fancy sentences to approve the surgery before she quit, although she managed to spit out two LENGTHY emails as to why she was quitting, and thus why she could NOT recommend me for the surgery, because SHE couldn't do follow-up. C U Next Tuesday. Every single person I came in contact with, in three entire healthcare systems, FAILED ME for 7 solid months. I had a screaming, throwing shit, meltdown of monumental, historic proportions all by myself. No one to talk to. Not a soul to hear it. Nobody to fucking call.
So There's that.
Years of pain. 5 years of epidurals, which are rude on a good day, but buy time. No one volunteers for that shit unless there is a major problem. I was NEVER offered sedation, but I hear they do that for people in pain clinics outside the VA LOL, only 'a little' lidocaine 30 seconds before the screaming began. In January, I was given hope of relief for the first time in 10 years. Sleep! Solid sleep for the first time in ten years. On a good night, I get maybe 3 hours 'rest' out of 5 hours 'sleep', that is if I sleep at all.
I came back here with hopes of new beginnings. Well, things haven't really worked out that way. The move itself put me in debt. I should have taken the difficulty in getting in touch with realtors as a sign I shouldn't drop anchor here, but I did it anyway. Quagmire. Swamp of Infection. Dusty trail of randomly moving rocks. Shit-Storm Maximus. I am too old for this shit. I am too smart for this shit. I am too good for this shit.
Lay on top of all that three distinct Liger swipes to my self-esteem, and you're looking at someone who is getting ready to lease a small space somewhere near Bluefield, VA 6 months out of the year, and the other 6 months, who the fuck knows? Most likely Carolina or Aguadilla, PR. Maybe a little Bourdain "Parts Unknown" in between, because seriously, I don't fucking know, and I honestly don't fucking care anymore. There is no thing, and only my parents to tie me here, and the weather is ok for 4 months. All of my "friends" are online and live other places. I'm tired of being unhappy, and being around unhappy people. I was happy for a little while, I was getting my feet up under me, and the closest person to me, at the time, went straight for the jugular. Then a few tentative tries to ease back in, and I am just keeping it as far away as I can. I think I am keeping everyone at bay for now, because I don't WANT any ties here. In fact, just this second, I've decided that as soon as I heal up from my surgery, and actually heal, not the 29 days I had with my knee, I am weighing anchor. Maybe a boat on a canal in the Netherlands. I have a clean passport, language skills, a congressman, and 179 days to be anywhere I damn well please. 

Elevator Confessions 8/28

Elevator Confessions

* I've been sitting on this one for about 4 weeks, so bear with me. I do things often for folks without expecting anything in return, but recently I did something HUGE, for someone I don't even know, and was given a "ty" text via the mutual friend. Really? Is that what we have devolved into? I know that my expectations for myself are extraordinarily, ridiculously high as far as set-bars go, but damn, really? Someone is going to go WAY out of their way for you, late at night, leave you some expensive and hard to come by things for later, and all you think to do in return is manage a "ty from ——" text? ME? I would have gone out of my way to get in touch with that person and fallen all over myself with gratitude, but she couldn't even take the time to type out 'thank you'…on the deathbed one minute, me getting home at close to 1am had to be in Durham by 8, and 12 hours later, they were at a softball tournament at the beach. Am i wrong to smell shit here?
* Speaking of people losing their minds. I WENT OUT with someone ONCE. We talked for couple of weeks. Totally incompatible for many different reasons. She went DEFCON 5 crazy on me when she felt me backing away, and I left it alone. Then out of the blue in July (a month later with no impetus), after only the mention of a first name, and I would LOVE to know how she got the last name, HomeFry went crying to my EX about me being crazy, and NEEDY, and CLINGY, and that when SHE'D tried to end it, I'd gone ballistic… My ex actually stood up for me, saying that that didn't sound like me at all. A person who HATES me stood up for me, and I have the texts to prove it. Kind of impressive but disturbing at the same time.
* I totally cheated on myself this week and drank a 24pk of soda. Coke. IN.HALED.IT. But, it made me feel jiggly, and my kidney's hurt, and my teeth were unusually sticky and discolored again. TYJ for MiO I did it after the week I'd had and the shots to the knee coming, I needed some happy and thought fizzy would do it, it didn't.
* 5 Months no cigarettes. yay me! IF there was ever a time I'd start back it was this month and I didn't, so I think I'm in the clear. I have seriously cut back on my vaping as well. I love the ‪#‎iTasteMVP‬ for so many reasons, but the puff counter ROCKS! When I first got it I was over 350 a day, and now if I am alone, and not wrecked by something, I'm under 200.
* No one told me that when I lost the equivalent of a 2nd grader that I would need an entirely different wardrobe. ‪#‎thankgodIkeptsomesmallpants‬‪#‎swimmininmyshirts‬
* ‪#‎Bittyman‬ is a creep. At 22 pounds and almost 15" tall there is nothing sneaky or subtle about him (not to mention he has the grace of a nervous dog). So, when he wants to sit by me, or on me which is 23.5 hours out of the day, he's all slow, and panther-y and he won't make eye contact, like he's not doing it, then he flops down like a brick right on my arm, as if I wouldn't notice. Every day, all day long. Creepy creeper.
* I'd love to have long hair for a little while, but I CANNOT make it through the "in between" stages. I get to a point, look in the mirror, and scream "that's it!" and run to the closest set of shears I can find.
* The isolation has reached catastrophic mass. Some decisions have been made. They say that long-term social isolation has negative effects on the psyche. I though it was just for like feral children and Solitary confinement, but no…I'm completely okay it just sucks on an intolerable level, and i fear that this is not the when or where I am supposed to be since everything I have touched since I got here has turned to shit. Time to reassess.‪#‎badidea7438‬

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Elevator Confessions 7/31

Elevator Confessions:
* I said it this week, but I love SnapChat. The most amusing way to communicate. Photo + 1/3 of a Tweet. Hilarity. CTFU
* I'm getting my spidey-sense back. Went for a walk the other day and had great feels that no humans were disturbing it. Stillness and immaculate total communication.
* Communication with humans is often difficult for me. Pets, kids, A-OK. People? With strangers I shift about 6" out of body, so half in half out. If ya don't get it, don't try.
* 8 months of my living room not 'working' for me, it's getting re-worked. I want a music area, and I want to not have a rug in a stupid place so I don't trip over the wire that goes to my chair. Feng Shui be damned.
* I've had to hide 3 more people and am thinking about a tattoo down my ulna, "Don't think you know me." Lea
* Gratefully, I have after nearly 10 years, I think ?!? Reconnected with my bestusbestie, and feel better than I've felt in a long damn time.#mutualadmirationsociety
* I have had more appointments, yet more fun in the last two weeks than I have in the last 2 months combined. I'm beginning to like driving again.
* REALLY grateful for all the prayers, thoughts, and well-wishes for my mom. She's doing great, He fixed it, we got the desired results. Amen. That is all.
* These last 8 months, I felt like I was in a rough-gravel cement mixer with a parabolic mirror pointed at it. Done. Finis.
* 12 pages left to finish Julia Cameron's the Artist's Way Morning Pages. It's going to be sealed and read in a year. It will continue to be a daily practice. If I don't write I go nuts.
* #Bittyman is going through the terrible twos. Sweet to me. Ass around the house and to Bunny. Not having it.
* Thank you again to the mystery cookie provider.
* Even with the cookies, I broke 160 for the first time since my back surgery, WITH all the crap in my pockets.

Elevator Confessions 7/2

Elevator Confessions:
* I confess I cannot abide inferior adhesives in any form, but specifically, cheap tape. Godamighty, bring Dollar Store tape in my house and you will be excused. 
* I confess that I'm on the fence as to trying to decide if there are more assholes inside the house or out, but considering it's just me and the two cats, I'm thinking it's in. 
* I confess that I know that I would be a great personal "handler" for either someone wealthy, busy, on tour, or all of the above considering previous engagements, language skills, willingness to fly, "go" bag preparedness, and tanks for both shenanigans and fakery up with which I will not put, that can be shot up or down with a simple look, I'm kind of a keeper. Add to that I'm a decent shot and can look at a city map once and get the gist, I can drive on any side of the road, don't get seasick regardless the size of the vessel or wave, and will bait, catch, clean, and cook my own fish. Shit was that a resumé?
* I confess GREAT PRIDE to have picked Everton Football Club as my "Home Club" in the EPL. after much trepidation, asking so many opinions and getting so confused, After loving them through the season, they pulled a not too shoddy 5th in Barclay's, went on to Europa League.Then, USA side made into the World Cup and Our ‪#‎TimHoward‬ goes and breaks 2 footy records. First, with sixteen saves in a 38 shot onslaught match against Belgium, pity someone else couldn't have managed another goal to have lipped his stunning performance at the Keep. That said, not damn shabby at all for a bloody 35 year old who earned his 104th cap, breaking the American record, in the same match, as a sufferer of Tourette's, and supporter of Ink not Mink. Well done love, bloody well done. 
* I confess to wishing that I could write FOAD letters for a living. 
* I confess to being really pissed off at people who say they 'get' me and really don't, but insist, and seem to be thoroughly convinced that they do, then try to convince me further with how well they know, which, in fact, just pulls more dirt out of the hole, up into the air, then back down on them. Oopsie.(There are some of you who actually DO get me, the two insisters who don't, can't see these anymore.) 
* I confess to having made a couple of forays into the online whatever THE FUCK that is they're calling 'dating' these days and there will be a photo comment as to how I feel about that. Maybe several.
* I confess to watching a LOT of episodes (I think all) of CATFISH the show) and if you DO give me your phone number, and I am remotely interested in you, I AM going to look you up, It is neither creepy, stalky, or weird. It is called being SAFE, and holding your ASS to a level of integrity in that, I expect ZERO violent convicts or shady fucks near my life.
* I confess to having an ongoing struggle with read, journal, write. Gonna have to start using a timer, or at least stop arguing with myself about it in public. 
* I confess I have an acquaintance who believes that e-book publishing is not considered "being published." I'll make sure that the cruise it pays for isn't considered a "cruise" either, or a "house," or a "BMW". Wonder what we're going to "consider" the solar-powered electric fence…
* I confess that VA hold music is not music. it is seizure-inducing torture that attempts to get one to hang up in under 3 minutes. 
* I confess to honestly believing that some days, the VA and DMV randomly switch out employees. The examinations seem equally perfunctory, the questions equally asinine and unrelated, the humans as bored and uninterested in your presence. Same badges… same number system… red pens… lots of paper….equal amount of actual things accomplished… SHIT I MAY HAVE FOUND THE BACK DOOR TO THE SENATE!

Rube Goldberg and Organic Relationships

ALERT: I am by no means an expert, a therapist, or even someone whom I would say has been in a hugely successful relationship, but I will say that I am experienced in that I have seen a vast spectrum of them.

I've been out of a relationship for some time now, and thinking about new ones. I don't get out much, I am awkwardly shy at times, so I have been half-ass browsing on line. Yes, the only thing I have ever done half-assed. There are some odd damn birds out there. People who want to meet immediately, people who want to drag it out, analyzing each and every step like a chess match. People who immediately want to invade every aspect of your life, and people who… you wouldn't want around your livestock.

In speaking with some of these folks, and in watching all of the past and current episodes of the show Catfish on MTV, there is a very skewed vision of relationships these days. It's like everyone believes they are Rube Goldberg machines. Set up as if/then quantum potentials with known outcomes at every juncture. Yes, there are some that have known quantities. If my girlfriend goes to work at a strip club we will break up on the spot. No ifs ands or buts about it, zero questions about great money and getting ahead, fantastic vacations. I could give two shits, it ain't going to happen in my world ever again. That said, not every relationship is a specific chain of events. For example, why would someone go on line, put in their profile that they are a "hopeless romantic" looking for a relationship, and then be asinine about 'what' a relationship is by the very definition, and then immediately say that they do not want a relationship? For Fuck's sake, tell me not with me. Tell me that you've met someone else, that you're only capable of focusing on one person at a time, but do not unload your shit truck  at my door step, and tell me that something is wrong with me, a person you met in person 3 weeks ago.

A relationship, in my humble opinion, should be something that grows. An organic entity that develops between two people not by force, not by labor, not by gravitas, not by grandeur, gifts,  nor good words. It should evolve as the individuals within it evolve, changing, growing, adding layers, and releasing other layers as they become unnecessary, together and separately. Each relationship between individuals being totally different, uncompromising in their approach to respecting one another, being kind, being sweet, and being understanding of the individual that approaches that relationship.

I honestly think I would rather be alone now than have it any other way. I don't want to be in a machine. I don't want to be quantum projection. I want a living breathing organism filled with joy, abundance, sweetness, love, happiness and above all kindness and mutual respect; that, or nothing at all.

Next blog on Crazy Makers I promise LOL

Take The Red Pill to make the Red flags GLOW

I have been doing a great deal of thinking about relationships lately. Reflecting on the ones I have had in the past, ones I may have in the future. This includes romantic as well as friendly. Two months ago, I began talking to someone on line, we met, seemed good. There was a little crazy, but it wasn't coming from her, it was around her. So that was new. Crazy around someone is very different from crazy within, in my experience. Crazy-makers are in a league of their very own. (Remind me to get to that later.) Let's be clear now about what crazy is as I am referring to it.

"Crazy" means erratic behavior. Not just your run-of-the-mill, average moody, ups and downs of every day life, work, laundry, grocery shopping, drinks or meals with friends,  nutty cousins, family reunions. Crazy, in the sense I mean it today, means a constant upheaval about something. Running constantly on 'errands' that involved a family member's addictions; note the plural. Constantly changing work schedule, one car, two jobs, five people, and a past. A past with more baggage than a Royal Caribbean Oasis-class ship. A violent past, fueled with hate, anger, and confusion. Red flags call for the red pill, (Matrix reference to seeing reality) so my eyes were open wide, and watching with a quiet vigilance.

I needed to take a speedy trip out of town and invited her to go with. The first of the two days was beautiful. We talked, laughed, and were very affectionate with one another. I had no expectations, but it was nice. She slept a little and was checking to make sure I was there in her sleep. It was sweet. I've been craving just plain old sweet in my life, so it was perfect. We stayed with a friend to minimize cost, and I was exposed to some history. Some major history. I found out the crazy was within. I saw some of the anger return. The next day, on the 9 hour return drive, after a 4 hour nap. She slept the entire way home. She woke up for 2 bathroom breaks, and a quick meal, and about 45 minutes. She asked if I was going to  'kidnap' her to meet my kitties the following week for 3 nights and 2 days. Sure. Plans made. I keep agreements. I drop her off, she invites me in, offered me a bathroom break.
She was still being incredibly affectionate with me. I left on what I thought were great terms, and plans for the following week. I got home, went to sleep after having driven 1300 miles in the last 36 hours on 4 hours sleep and woke up to an utter shit storm.

First it was, "It's going to be a looooong time before I am ready to be in a relationship." Then, she, Bubblegum, was allegedly asleep for twenty hours. Then came an argument about who someone was, because everyone she knows has a damn nickname and like three of them are Snicker-something. It was a misunderstanding on my end, but DEFCON 3 on hers. Then another argument about something that should have been innocuous, but it was the end of the world. Then another one, and another, and another. Then came a sweet day. My head was spinning. I'd made plans to be in town anyway, so I wanted to clarify, and when I asked the question, about are you still planning on coming down, I got, "What the fuck are you talking about? M (a friend of MINE from high school) called and is coming in on Tuesday, he never visits, so I have to be here." {Well, A little backstory, our very first "date" was spent talking about M, who, upon finding out that we were about to meet and knew one another, after 20 years of knowing her, which would have made her twelve, spilled his guts about wanting to marry her. Yeah, dude has a significant other female that he's been with for over 8 years, who knew nothing about this undying, unrequited love. Still doesn't, but I sincerely hope his asshole is turning inside out just thinking that I am going to tell her because we are still Facebook friends, yet he and I are not. I spoke to the girl about M as a brother, and he spoke of me like a dog apparently. I let him know that I knew via FB message, saw that he'd seen it, gave him an hour to respond and blocked his chicken-shit, no integrity ass. Now, this is someone I'd known almost 40 years. Bewm. Gone. This came at DEFCON 5 described below}

So I went into town anyway, bearing gifts (one of two rosaries) because of the following cockamamie story. I was mad, but not letting it on I just got quiet.The story was about "sleep paralysis" and demons appearing in her bedroom. Specifically Pan, half goat, half man. The god of the wild, shepherds and flocks, nature of mountain wilds, hunting and rustic music, and companion of the nymphs.^{[2 [Wikipedia]}   She found some other definition that I had never heard that basically made Pan out to be a representation of Satan, found some dud on line, whom "she trusted" who was willing to sell her a "kit" to clear him away for a paltry $245. Sweet Baby Jesus what a bargain! Wow. I make it a practice of not cracking on people's belief systems, but damn. That one went outta the ball park, just on the simple fact that this is a person who is constantly struggling for money, and just borrowed $20 from me (still don't have it) and  was going to pay all this money for some hoodoo. I looked up the site, and it's not even valid hoodoo. It's a candle shop. Their 'bat's blood' is probably cherry jello. 

Tuesday rolls around and M doesn't show. Some bullshit excuse. Instead of wanting to spend time alone with me, she sees that I am dressed nicely, and takes me to her friend's house, who, by the way is 190 days out after a nine year prison term, for a violent offense, to ride 4 wheelers and dirt bikes. I'm dressed up, sort of, dirt bike. ATV.  There was a half acre of land to ride on that was maybe a 10-15% grade. Home girl had just figured out how to ride the thing 20 minutes prior, begged me to get on it. Which I really was fine watching. So, fool takes it up the steepest, slickest, most worn part in first gear, at about 5mph, and when we started sliding backwards, began yelling at me, because I "wasn't holding on to (her) tight enough." THIS from the person, who for weeks, had been telling me to not get attached. On the way home that night, she explained why she'd been so moody the week before, she was strung out on pills of unknown variety, strength, and combination. The next day I have errands of my own, a time to meet her, and she has her shit all up in a wad because again, she miscommunicated, was mad at something else, was taking it out on me, mad because I picked her up in a vehicle in which she could not smoke, instead of being grateful that I was taking her mother to work to start with, then didn't want to be around my mother so I had to drop her off, go get my car and come back and get her at a place I had just been, to drive back to hang with the convict we'd just hung out with the day before. Enough already.  High drama no more. I'm done. Leaving it alone in my mind, my decisions are made. I'll be polite and drift away. I return home for a couple of days which was long enough for her to lose her ever-loving shit. 

In the 3 days I was gone, apparently, she had some more conversations with the ex-con, who also happens to be messing around with a 20 year old married chick with two kids, that live with her Mama because her husband is kinda violent. Ex-con called me a "weirdo." Bubblegum was about to start working at a strip club as a bartender and that friends, was the final straw for me, and before I could open my mouth, this woman, a 32 year old, who had no clue that M had loved her for 20 years, who had been a major player in some serious hate groups, who'd just mailed 15 kissy face pictures of herself, and her posing with the other ex-con, as though they were in a relationship, to 'friends' in a women's prison for the 'spank bank', was  emotionally,  mentally, and spiritually raking me over the coals while lecturing me about relationships. 

DEFCON 5

"Suddenly" she has two other friends that I went to high school with who "had some things to say" about me. She begins to prattle and I go deaf….

I'm not usually mean, but I'm like hold up bitch. You look like a piece of gum (thus the moniker Bubblegum) out from under a prison visitation table.You have possibly the most random selection of tattoos I have ever seen on anyone in my life, and I have seen a metric shit-ton of both good and bad tattoos. Not only are they random, they are half-assed. Your hair is stringy and 4 different colors. You said several times that I had 10 personalities, but when I look at the facts, and go through the texts, that's all you; every accusation slung my way is you Both your parents are serious junkies, as in every day is a struggle to find what they need to get through the day. You lie to someone you love every day to get them what they need. You do it for them, You work to pay for their habit. You do it willingly, yet you say you know the definition of insanity and that is me. You just spent a week, by your own admission "strung out on pills, and don't know what all you took." All of the people you hold dear are in prison, or are members of a Hate group.  Even the ones who pretend to be against hate, HATE THE HATERS. WHAT THE FUCK? In the name of disrupting an organization against hate, you caused, by vandalism of real property, what you called "mischief and mayhem." I'd heard some things, and finally Googled your name. Sweet Mary. Page after page, after page, of articles about you Getty Images of you in your Hate Group. I discovered that sometimes, everything you read about people on the internet is true, but the most true thing I read, is that everyone you latch on to ends up being your enemy if you don't get your way. If you can't manipulate them and be the center of attention at all times, they are your enemy. 

I love Red Pills. I truly do. Those red flags GLOW. 

Elevator Confessions 6/25

Elevator Confessions:
* I was going to Facebook runaway. This past weekend's recharge made me not hate people again. Thank you Lee, Mike, Lisa, Drea for reminding me that, in fact, all people do not suck. 
* 4 miles made my knee mad, but I will not be taking anything for pain. The weaning begins. 
* Foreign movies are almost always better, but sometimes, I just don't like reading my movies. Spanish, Dutch (WTH) and German (AWTH) I can gist it. Canadians are currently ahead of the Brits in this category.
* I haven't had a cigarette in 95 days. Don't miss them.
* Discovered, thank you Debi, a new weed that I am going to eradicate with prejudice and vengeance, as it is going to be the death of me. No neighbors are growing foodstuffs, but I won't take the chance, so Roundup is out, but the Cody flame-thrower is looking good. I con't care what everyone else is using it for I want it gone.
* I do not understand that there are cell phones in Dubai that are worth more than my house. I also do not understand the gold bar vending machine. I guess if ya got it…
* The Social Anxiety Machine has been at a Full-Tilt boogie lately, but the sleeping to avoid it has been 11 hour marvelous.
* I am really fighting time these days. Read, Journal, Writethedamnbook, a friend suggested a 14-day letter to burn as well. I guess I am back to the 30/30 app so I can get back into balance with everything and stop stressing myself out over what I "should" be doing right now.
* I reconnected with my best friend this weekend as well. The one person who has seen behind ALL the walls. It's been 10 years. Too, too, damn long. I am breathing easier now. I feel whole again. That part was missing. Sometimes completion isn't found in a lover, it's found in the one who knows you and really loves you because of your brokenness, not in spite of it
* The people unveil their true self to me, the more I let them in. The more they hide, the further away I go.

Elevator confessions

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Retina

Confessional 5/28/14

Hump Day Elevator Confessional.
* I missed last week, Sorry but not sorry. Wednesdays have been sucking for me lately.
* Today is one of those Wednesdays.
* I have been in a one-star movie loop and it is making me mad.
* Had 12 simultaneous shots in my knee yesterday 1/2 roids 1/2 methelyne blue. I think it's going to help, but today I am pissy for no reason and am referring to the knee as the inflammato. It is almost as angry as I am. I walked to keep it from crystallizing and it just puffed up.
* People, in general, suck. I don't count on people because they give me nothing to count ON, except for showing me that yes my expectations are too high, and No, I am NOT going to lower them, or my standards.
* I'd much rather speak Spanish or Mandarin as they are more expressive and exact,
* I've just recently been super disappointed by a friend by a bout of supreme greed and selfishness. I don't know that I can ever get past it. Ever. My opinion was very high, now, it is less than garbage.
* Please don't Have a Carly Simon moment. There are other people in my life.
* I think it's time for some selfishness on my part, and that, instead of a run to the fields this weekend, or early next, may involve a run to the beach. I need some salt in this wound so it will heal, and heal fast. What is thatGinger Leigh song? Better Than Well? But not everything I do is for you. Sh'ma Yisrael, this one is for me.
* It's been 2 months + since I quit smoking, and I could care less about having another cigarette. I've even held one and wasn't tempted to take a drag with no one looking.
* have resigned myself to a number of things to be found after this post in ya ‪#‎bigdamnpants‬
You want confessions this is today.

When my guides disagree with your guides: Riding an Ass Down the Spiritual Canyon

Sub Title: The Lady with the Spiritual Pants
A hundred years ago, I worked in a very unique place of business. It was geophysical to metaphysical. We literally sold maps and flags of the world and maps and flags of the universe. We were a set of odd birds there. Switching gears from selling different guides, reading people as to what kind of tourist of the Ukraine they were going to be, and the next customer, do we sell them the quartz we founding the parking lot or the one we just picked up from a personal trip to Brazil known to not be regularly handled by anyone in the store? This was my JOB. My daily routine of clocking in and while someone would take the time to look up "you know, that purple book, that's about this big, by that lady who talks about angels," I'd be to the shelf and back with said book in hand, taking the customer back to the section, getting that 'read' and asking questions telling them about similar titles. It was a joy to work there.
We also had Psychic Fairs. At the old location, it was in the store space it was across the way, very manageable. At the new location, it was a mad house. Still fun but a madhouse trying to keep the sections separate. We had a variety of methodologies. Horary astrologers, regular astrologers, Tarot readers, angel card readers, Native Shamen, Aura photography, the practitioners changed every month but we had staples. One woman put down tarot cards, but she didn't need them at all. To this day, if I need a check in that's who I would see. She keeps telling me, "you know this is as well as I do, and as clear as I see it, but I get you're just getting a second opinion." YOUBETCHA.
There were a few readers that rang true for some folks that were regular clients, but I thought they were a load of crap because I knew their personal life was interfering in the clarity of the readings. That person tended to attract only people who were going through major drama with relationships. People are drawn to different things and I respect the individuality. Off work they were all a hoot. There was really nothing that wasn't fun about the whole experience. I am still fairly close to them all except one guy who just dropped off the grid because that is who he is, and that too, is okay.
We had all kinds of events. The monthly Psychic Fair, author readings/signings and weekend workshops. Here's where it gets interesting. It is the seeking for meaning, not OF life, but IN life. Millions do it every day, every year, every weekend. See? There's the catch. Weekends. It's the hypocrite with which I take issue. Arsehole all week, first at First Baptist on the weekend, and they wonder in Wanderlust why they can't find happiness. There have been many incarnations of "This Woman," but this one applies to this story alone. She was a banker's wife, of the Country Club, season tickets to the Symphony set, black tie events all the way. Yet on the weekends, here she'd come, dripping in diamonds, both Herkimer and DeBeers, a medicine bag around her neck full of crystals, a floppy hat with an illegal as hell eagle feather in it, a Peruvian shawl, a bag of books, a gold AMEX to buy more, and these blue batik pants. All the other items could change, but never the pants, thus they came to be known as the Spiritual Pants, and an extended metaphor throughout my life for these people. This woman spent thousands of dollars to learn to read tarot, to read the Akashic records, to move energy with crystals, to do Reiki, to channel, to speak to Angels both higher and minor, she ran the gamut. Yet, was and, probably IS still seeking. Please don't get me wrong. Go… look… find… start…stop… do whatever…the only fault I find in all of this is in not giving one's self the time to absorb and integrate information, and for those who find ONE thing and think that it is the ONLY thing, and that THEIR GUIDES are the GUIDES for EVERYONE. That said let's get into some deeper intricacies of guides.
I have personally known folks who channel. I have met several who channel to larger audiences, and I am familiar with those that channel on a huge scale. As stated above, some are crap as they let external issues interfere in the information. Some you can tell there is a divine hand in it as a universal truth because it is true today, tomorrow, for me, for you, that guy over there; it just matters. That is clear presentation. I use this analogy: channelers, as with people who facilitate healing sessions, are supposed to be sterile tubing. A straight shot from source to the receiver. Noting from the conduit should interfere or get stuck in the tube, noting from the receiver should go to the conduit back to source, that is between them. It is a very simple clear process. Some are naturals, but it can be taught. Just like remote viewing. It CAN be taught, but the naturals are just better; not set above, just more fluid, making something difficult look easy. Part two. Constant, clear contact with guides/source/devas/whomever is not meant for the current human neural system. It is very draining. It is exhausting. Those that do it for a living will tell you the same information. They have to go to retreat to recharge after big sessions. Those who say that they are in constant, conscious contact with their guides are full of it. Yes, they, the guiding entities, are accessible at all times, but to be "on the red phone" all the time… utter BS. My personal experience is that sometimes, things will "fall out" I quickly acknowledge that it was not mine. That it was neither something I knew before, nor did I know where it came from. I don't say, "Oh those were My Guides speaking to you. They need you to know this." Not ever going to happen. I simply say, you may want to pay attention to that, because I don't know what it was supposed to mean. I am not a healer. I grind my teeth at those who say they are. I am and will always profess to merely be good company on the ride be it healing or a spiritual journey. I am loud and soft-spoken. I am big and little. I am cocky and yet have little ego. I am the Ass and I don't mind carrying you as long as you're not the average tourist. Otherwise, you're going to get the 10 year old Berlitz guide, and Donde esta la biblioteca? 

Hump Day Confessions

* I confess these first ones are going to be tough. It's been a long 6 months. It is not as malevolent as face value presents, it is a 6 month vent and many things have been "brought to my attention" "out of love" to "help"‪#‎lookityodamnself‬
* I confess it has taken me months to work up the nerve to do this.
* I confess that I have spent 95% of the last 6 months alone. A few hours here and there with a neighbor, time with my parents, the rest alone by choice. It has made me a little more weird, if that is even possible.
* I confess that very simple things make me happy. If I type LOL, I have LOL'd. I watch AFV because there is a nut shot guaranteed by 6 seconds in.
* I confess i did NOT like the person I was in the last relationship. I was yoked, saddled, and rode into the outback without water. I did however gain parenting experience, and I think I gave one child a view of how things could be better, and that she had to be the one to make it that way. I hope so at least.
* I confess a growing abhorrence for the need of another for me to be neurotically precise in my words and to explain/ translate nearly everything I say. I am not going to be doing that any more.
* I confess, on a related matter, that being "corrected" in public will get you envenomed here forward. The same people who want so desperately to point out that you are wrong don't have to balls to tell you your zipper is down or that you have spinach in your teeth. Next. (meaning screw you I'm moving on)
* I confess that I am tired of apologizing for my intelligence. I am a former MENSA member, and a bastion of truly useless knowledge. I have spent an easy half mil+ on school, 86.34% of my life in one school or another, and that doesn't count what the Navy spent. I DO NOT "know it all," nor do I have a penchant for one-uppance. If you really knew me you would know that I can't stand people who think, act or place themselves above others in any way, shape, or form.
* I am an official ex-smoker, I guess, as I have stopped counting days. I can't smell it on other people, but I can smell it on my things and eww I don't like it. so I've done about 30 loads of laundry in the last month. NO I am not one of those "uppity" ex smokers I can be around it and not blow the top of my skull.
* I confess that I love easy. I have loved people who have never known about it and just gotten over it on my own. I love people I shouldn't. I love people longer than I should. I should on myself often.
* I confess that most of my friends are my friends because they have the ability to tell on themselves. I absolutely ADORE that.
* I confess that I have edited 'Friend's Lists' not because I don't care about them, but because they don't care about me, and don't deserve to know shit about my life.
* I confess that this has been cathartic, and promise the next ones will be funny and random, I just needed to get some shit off my chest that has been weighing me down.
* I confess that I cannot read Thoreau's Walden without getting sleepy. Seriously, 3 pages, instant nap. Crying insomnia, and I can't remember how fast it works.
* I confess I hate the telephone. Business only. There are maybe 3 people on the planet that I can stay on the phone with over 15 minutes, they know who they are and don't abuse it.
* I confess that I have taken up a new hobby, and if I don't die from it i will post a video soon.
If you've made it this far, I appreciate you, and your time, probably more than you will ever know.

Compassion

A not so subtle reminder to be kind and gentle to one another:
Odd conversation with someone from high school here on Facebook, after being "friends" for only a month or so I received a message, "We weren't close at Graham, so I don't feel the need to continue a relationship on here." (I do admit to preferring this over mere deletion.) Well, kudos for seizing your power kid, I know you were bullied and picked on throughout high school, but you just got "uppity" with the person who preformed CPR on your father for 40 minutes, long before the mask or bag days. I wasn't successful, and I'm certain you aren't aware of that, nor should it make us instant friends, but it is a point of perspective for me. 

I see Facebook as information, a decent news source, often faster than TV, a beautiful opportunity for reconnection, and a way to keep up with folks near and far. Granted, it's a way for creepy folks to eavesdrop and stalk but Mark & Co. has given us the means to limit what those folks see.

Let us agree to disagree from time to time without it being the end of the world. Let us support one another with kind thoughts, generic prayers, well-wishes, and simple deeds of good faith. Let us make room for folks to have bad days as part of being human, not as a permissive state, with perfectionist expectations. Above all, let us communicate with kindnesses and clarity, or the patience until that is possible. Let us use, possibly a global "safe phrase" of 'Please Wait,' that is understood to mean, "I want to communicate with you, but if I do right now I will be hungry, angry, lonely tired, I might eat your head like an animal cracker, I might blast you with words of anger meant for someone else." Y'all get the gist. 

If you find yourself unable to communicate, stop trying until you can. If the other person can't, be respectful and let them process THEIR way, not yours At the very least, just stop hurting one another. Enough of that goes on between  strangers, let's not do it to people we know, even those we know vicariously.

I can't believe the response I got from this simple post of my thoughts in the wee hours of a random morning. Most of the 3 am posts go relatively unnoticed. But this one, it hit home for a bunch of people struggling with the same issue. I guess we were all experiencing a quickening in a growth wave and confusion in trying to communicate with those who are stuck in old patterning. We can't force them to move forward, but we can have patience with them, and we can distance ourselves from their trapped thinking. There is no judgement in noticing a person being trapped, it's a mere realization equal to that of realizing that your own chains have been broken. 

I have noticed deep resentment from those who are trapped. Specifically addressed at those who are moving past them without even being conscious of what, or to whom they are directing their venom. Most of these are people who say they are in "conscious contact" with higher sources, and who go out of their way to be involved in spiritual adventures, yet don't see that they are not stretching themselves if they are not truly "open" then the contact is diminished and restricted to what their chains allow. I've had people say that it was jealousy, but then 'jealousy of what' rang through me as what could someone be jealous of me for? I have recently broken out of a shitty relationship. I picked up and made a huge move. I left everything I knew and was just winging it on blind faith that I would be ok, which is what faith really is isn't it? 

Faith that everything will work out? Isn't Faith deep knowing at it's very basal nature? Are they jealous of a tangible connection, or my freedom to flow through life like water between grains of sand, instead of hardening concrete around x-shaped blocks. My life has been difficult at times. I have been tested for sure. But moving ahead has never been a problem, finding the next step, even in the dark, hasn't proven to be my biggest hurdle. My biggest hurdle has always been me, so I don't understand jealousy at all. I never will. 

Finally Tired of the Box

My whole life, I've been different. Average in some things, sucking at a slim few, way above average in others, but definitely out of normal.  Strive to be better the proverbial They said. Yet, always, around the corner, some insignificant asshole was waiting to knock me back down to "reality." Harsh words, subtle comments, sometimes just straight up meanness, it was always there lurking. No wonder I was afraid of success because I knew, if I got too close, if I got too happy, one of those ginning bastards would come shooting from the shadows to knock me back into the box of what THEY  needed me to be. 

Well, I've spent a good bit of the last 15 or so years still afraid of success, but not really giving two shits what other people thought. I mean, yes I cared, but I didn't hear harsh judgements unless someone let it slip. I wasn't cocky, nor ego-centric. I played well with others. I did wear a mask. A mask that said I would protect and care for others blindly, that I have frankly grown sick of, as most have taken it for granted, and abused it in some way or another. Until recently, this was my m.o. then it all came crashsing down. 

There was about a three week period where I couldn't do anything right. I was too this, too that. I needed to do this this a certain way, not to talk to x person about y, y person only about y and z but not w. I've never been good at algebra unless it was applied to geometry or aeronautical physics, and these were people. I trust my own sensibilities with people. Admittedly, I suck at relationships, but platonic people, I can pick some good folks, and steer clear of fruit bats with the best of them. I don't, at this stage in the game, need instruction, on how to be in the world. I needed a haircut. I was told that I was a know-it-all.  I have a condescending tone.  The quarter of a million dollar Master's (and whatnot) I'd just spent the better part of 6 years killing myself over was brought into question, and I was not thought of as a "medical professional" however 17 states DIS-A-FUCKING-GREE!  Those states, see me as the equivalent of an NP, DO, or PA, as I have had the same Western training as well as Eastern training. 

I let it get to me. I allowed it in. I relinquished power. I let go as though I were back in eighth grade with the mean girls. I played it off as though several people were coming at me like this, but it was a singular individual. Five people who don't talk, who don't know each other, have agreed on one word. Jealousy. 

But of what? I have nothing. I do nothing. Is it my dreams? My potential to break the molds? My willingness to prove people wrong? My openness to change? I believe, on a very deep level that it is my capability for introspection where all the potential there is capability for extrospection. It is a daily progression from one judge show to another judge show to another judge show to NCIS, to TMZ, to a magician who willfully puts people in stressful situations that are not funny in the least bit. There, beside the television is a surveillance system, not just on their premises, but on about 200sq yds to analyze and observe and judge the goings on of others. Yes, it's been helpful in ONE crime. It's there to watch.

I  have had several conversations about this with the individual. I took my warrior mask off. I let my guard down. I was told, "I don't know who hardened you, which one of your parents it was..." And the whole time I'm thinking, "assholes like you who think it's their place to put me in my place" better still, to decide what that place is!

And the defiance swells. I get my lessons from a Higher place Sapiens. 

I am studying what caused me to flop over like a weak cat. Still can't figure that one out, but I will, and I won't be doing it again soon. There may be backlash because of this blog, but I don't care due to the numerous conversations that have been held at the expense of my self worth and esteem, without benefit of my presence to explain the apparent conundrums of my oft perplexing and perturbing existence. I don't care any more.  I will not shut up. I will continue to talk too much. I will forget things. I'm going to smoke too much at times. I'm not royalty, therefore I will speak of my actions in the singular unless I am specifically in the presence of another Sapiens, Idaltu, or Khamlup. I will sleep when I feel like it. I will write my sorry, whole ass off because it makes me happy, whole, and sane. Last time I checked, we still had First Amendment Rights, not Suggestions, and look! Here they are in action! Uncensored even!