On flying and landing

Today I decided to let my fingers fly and land where they will

and they will everywhere so often. Just so much nonsense they spout,
with a keyboard, of course,
cause otherwise, fingers can't talk. They exist as helpers.

Now, hands can talk. And faces and eyes and lips. Whole BODIES can talk.

Sign language uses everything. Which people wouldn't often think, but it's true. Its the
hands and the eyes and the mouth.
Smiles and giddiness and pouts.

Everything. Everyone uses everything to speak. Even when they aren't, they are. If someone is trying to be still and reserved, that is expressed in their stillness and reservedness. They show their disinterest (or attempt to be so) in their concentration (or lack thereof).

Oh, words confuse me. There's a whole mess of things here.

Hopefully one of you can find something in them.
It's not developed so very much.

Next time, there will be more.

The need to write

I need to write. Even when I know not what to say.

I need to write. Even when the words seem to fly away

I need to write and make sure to stay
sane.

All the words are flying around, buzzing around, whipping around through my mind, whirling dervishes of imagination and pizzazz. So many jokes and thoughts, curses and semi-understandings, that my head feels like a very-slowly-inflating balloon.

swollen with so many words.

Sometimes I can deflate my head when I sleep. But sometimes, it stays heavy and thick, causing my neck grief and all my pillows to be flattened by the sheer weight of the shit that happens in my happenings. My head, at times, aches with it's own growth.

But I'd rather feel this pain of expanding and learning and discovering than the nothingness of stale ideas.

Early-morning imaging

I had a dream last night. Or maybe it was a nightmare.
It was devoid of emotion, mostly, so it's hard to tell into which of these categories the images fit.

I remember sleeping. Then awakening with the knowledge that something was wrong. Something felt wrong. And all of a sudden, I just knew what it was--someone or something had stolen food from everyone in the surrounding area and had left it at our house-that-wasn't-our-house. Maybe our children had done it? Or our pets?

I knew without knowing that everyone would be coming to get their food back. Right now in the middle of the night. As I walked through the front door to meet all the people, a pair of.....somethings were hanging on the wall. I don't know how to describe what they were... Something kind of like a miniature jacket hanging on a key-hook by the door. As I watched these "jackets", they seemed to fill with forms, very much like ghosts filling the empty clothing of their recently-departed bodies. And they filled with deformed little figures, one of them with a feminine feeling to it grew large and swollen, dwarfing the masculine little being.

and when they finished growing, neither of them moved. They weren't alive. They were simply hanging from the ceiling, empty little husks with the overwhelming feeling of prophecy and foreboding. I looked at you, and you understood too. There was no question, no judgement, just us between the two of us. That kept me sane.

They began coming from everywhere-- every direction-- to get their food from our house. But it was only children and pets. Dogs, and cats, with collars. Kids in oversize t-shirts and bare, blue feet. Some arrived in pairs, some animal trios, some groups of sleepy children, holding the hands of their siblings as they emerged from the fog. All looked groggy as they shambled up to the boxes that appeared, full of food, in our driveway. I wonder how they knew their food was at our house. I wonder how they knew it was missing.

We passed out the canned goods as the innocents grew close enough. Just one can per house. One can of peaches, or lima beans, or chili, or tomatoes. Doesn't matter if they receive what was taken from them, only that they receive something back.

Then, directly after receiving their food, the things shambled off again. Without a word or a smile.

into the night, into the fog, into the never-coming dawn.

And then I awoke, feeling swollen with emptiness.

i wish for all of everyone's wishes to be fulfilled

i wish that i could write poetry

whenever i wish

and that i could demand it fly

from my fingertips

i wish that i could escape the world

and off into the stars

to dream and live among the lights

and study from afar

i wish that i could smile forever

even after shit-days

to laugh and talk and spend some time

and waste it all away

Tongue-twisted

What a to-do to die today

at a minute or two til two.....
It's a thing distinctly hard to say, yet
harder still to do.

We'll beat a tattoo
at twenty to two
with a rat-tat-tat tat-tat-tat tat-tat-tattoo


For the dragon will come when he hears the drum, at a minute
or two
til two
today;
a minute
or two
til two.

CAN YOU SCREAM WITH WRITING

To scream via Text. Is is possible.
Does it count as yelling when ALL THE LETTERS ARE CAPITAL LETTERS. WHY DOES THAT AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME SHOUTING.

Screaming is an auditory release, non-transferrable to the written word, except by the word itself. I doubt people read "screaming" as anything besides a scream.

So no. You can't get out your tension electronically with loud noises.

But you can get out your tension electronically with real messages.
How very therapeutic writing can be...

things to say.

I talk a lot.

Well, when I'm *comfortable*, I talk a lot.

I know that it bothers some people, and I'm sure that oftentimes I'm annoying. But I usually speak for a purpose.

Well, maybe that's not true.

I speak when I feel the urge to speak. Sometimes, that leads to gibberish tumbling out of my lips and down my chin, dribbling away like melting ice cream. Sometimes, I actually do have pearls of wisdom that are helpful and insightful. Sometimes, I speak to joke. I speak to laugh. I speak to cause other's laughter.

Well, not often enough.

I find myself speaking negatively lately. Not with a sad tone, mind-- just with almost depressing words and phrases. I find myself being lost and therefore, my words become lost. Sitting alone in my car recently, I find myself unable to describe what I am.

Well, who I am.

I am unable to create the words, or even the feelings, behind what I am. How to feel and know what I am to do when I don't know what I am. Or who I am. Or what I want.

Well, not all of what I want.

I want too much. I want everything. The problem being, not every material good. I want EVERYTHING. I want to...... everything.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving

I am thankful for my hair.
and my music
I am thankful for the breeze and the rain. The stars and the leaves. I am thankful for how much green is in the world. I am thankful for deep breaths of fresh air
I am thankful for language and words,
and long walks in the moonlight.
I am thankful for my dinners and my drinks. I am thankful for my truffles-- and my talent to make them

I am thankful for my mother. I am thankful for her optimism and love. I am thankful that my mother is an angel.
I am thankful for my father. I am thankful for his strength and stubbornness. I am thankful that my father is a protector, both of me and of our country.
I am thankful for my older brother. I am thankful for his humor, mirth, and smarts (even if it does get in the way of calm conversation). I am thankful that my brother is an intellectual.
I am thankful for my younger brother. I am thankful for his heart and his quietness. I am thankful that my brother is a sweetheart mechanic.

I am thankful for my country and my crafts.
I am thankful for crocheting, and knitting, and ukuleles and ocarinas, and paint and pencils and markers and crayons, and clay.
I am thankful for inspiration.
I am thankful for my mind and my thoughts. My creativity and view of religion.
I am thankful for my friends, for their support and laughter.
I am thankful for the internet and ease of information-gathering
and information-sharing.

I am thankful for zombies and the plans that follow.
I am thankful for you, dear readers-- whoever you may be.

I am thankful for bear-hats and stuffed unicorns. I am thankful for pictures and memories, snow and hail, sun and the atmosphere. I am thankful for dandelions and calla lillies.

I am thankful for the man who holds my heart. I am thankful for his love and his own open heart. I am thankful for his consideration and compassion. I am thankful for his green eyes and his soft hair. I am thankful for the safety I feel in his arms. I am thankful that I make him feel just as safe. I am thankful that I get to be his big-spoon. I am thankful for his jokes and teases, his touch and his laughter, his love of the world, even when he thinks he doesn't love everyone.  I am thankful for the way he sees me for what I am, flaws and all, and still thinks I'm the one he wants to be with forever.

I am thankful for who and where and what I am.

THANK YOU.

Eureka time-- my job has helped me realize a thing or two.

There are things in my life I cannot, will not, shall not EVER control. So, let it go. Don't get stressed about technology failing or other people being upset. It's just not worth getting angry about things that I can't fix.

Good day.
I'm gonna have more of these.

I've already decided.

does a brain make reality?

It's astonishing how quickly things change. With one moment of shifting thoughts, the reality of the thing is now questionable.

The functionality of a situation, where one second is perfection, becomes fallible and unsatisfactory. And with this recognition, regardless of whether it is a facade or truth, the mind is poisoned. The disease spreads just as a drip of dye in water spreads out, clouding fascinatingly, fears and doubts spreading with astonishing grace.

It infects the gaze. The windows to the soul. It creeps in, little by little, seeming to not exist sometimes. But it lingers in the corner of the expression-- that lonesome yet absent look.

that's the symptom of a human brain breaking down it's host from the inside out.

Inspiration

is like a little blood-fish.

Smooth and very quick to get away. Shiny and something alive, living in you, in your blood, in your veins, swimming through your heart and head.

It's hard to catch, and slippery to boot. But once caught, it glimmers with a deep, rich color of yourself. The color of your own beautiful truth and clarification.

and is quick to die when not taken care of.

So, when you're at a mental road-block, find what attracts your blood-fish to the surface.



Here's one of my favorite sites and their opinion.
http://theoatmeal.com/comics/making_things

I am crazy

My mind breaks down sometimes, in the middle of a sentence, or conversation. Sometimes even in the middle of a word.

I am crazy.

I can't control my mouth, or hands or my feet sometimes. They just seem to run away with me.

I am crazy.

I say so many things, things I wish I could take back. But it is the way of language that it is un-take-back-able. When you say a thing, it has been said. There is no way around or back from it. Therefore, I try to watch everything I say to people. But sometimes things still slip out, when

I am crazy.

Or, sometimes, when the crazy is me.

mental tendencies

I've always been a bigger girl. My boobs came in in 6th grade and that wasn't just cause I hit puberty super hard. I just liked food. It was a nice comfort-- course it didn't hurt that I was unaware of my gluten intolerance then and my mother is an AMAZING Southern cook.

We always had little deliciousities around the house. And our dinners? Oh, don't get me started.

Now, sometimes, I find myself unable to eat an apple without a moment of nausea. I'm not now a skinny girl, nor have I ever (purposefully) developed an eating disorder. (The first sixth months of my Celiac lifestyle, I was unaware of the problem and vomited a couple times a day, so technically.... bulimic, but I don't count it.)

I find it interesting how just a shift in thought so strongly controls your bodily reactions. Just one person walking into a room, one person that you don't like, can make you clumsy and rude. This is a mind game. A game that our minds like to play with us.

I'm a rather strong believer of one's mind, body, and spirit as different entities-- and the mind is definitely the bully. Funny thing about bullies....

They often stop once they are confronted.

So, go about confronting yourself. Stop the bad thoughts rolling around inside that head of yours.
And try to feel a smile. It'll make you feel better.

Election Day

I awoke to a text this morning from a person very close to me trying to sway my vote.On election day... 

Because of this, I give zero craps about what choice you are making--

 Just make a choice and stand up for YOUR beliefs. Don't let anyone take that away. You are a citizen of the United States of America, and WE stand for freedom and equality.

 Utilize your rights.

Crying

The moment it begins

prickling skin

lump near uvula

itchy nose

shaky hands

watery eyes

In the midst

shoulders shaky

nose watery

lungs prickling

eyes itchy

lump near heart

Aftermath

shaky breaths

itchy scalp

watery cheeks

prickling thoughts

lump in throat

My bosses

are a happily married gay couple. They are some of the nicest guys I've ever met, bar none.

And I'm lucky enough to work as their employee. it's beautiful to see them work in the same office-- so many heterosexual couples would be unable to do such a thing, and yet this pair of men make it look easy.

No, even more so. They make it look FUN. They enjoy spending time together and when they have complications or issues at work, they bond over them, often with laughter, instead of being at each other's throats.

I am so inspired by the way they speak to each other. And I can see the moments when something might go wrong, and these maestros change the tune to safer stomping grounds. Especially lately, I very much appreciate their ability to not allow their significant other to "get in their head" and cause stupid, pointless arguments.

It's so easy to hurt those closest to you, especially if they are emotional. Keep in mind your words.

Mind your tone all the more.

Hallow's Eve

Halloween

A time when those who feel comfortable in masks are accepted for who they are. 

A time when everyone is accepted for who they are. If you don't want to dress in costume, that's understood. If you want to dress in a different costume at every event, that's understood.

If you want to throw a zombie crawl in the middle of October for no other reason than the undead are freaking awesome, no one will hate on you because it's around Halloween.

My favorite things have to do with this day: zombies, vampires, werewolves, ghosts, royalty, piracy, paganism, nature, comics, literary characters.... Oh, the options are endless.

It was pointed out to me that I have a lot of "favorite" days. My birthday is one of them.

Halloween surpasses by birthday by so very very much. 

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Have a happy All Hallow's Eve, everyone!

Multiple Existence and the use of Dreams

Our world exists overlapping other worlds, dimensions, and times.

This is my opinion.

Anything that could have ever happened has happened in another place. Feelings of deja vu might (or might not) be rememberances or fortellings of another life of another you in another place.
I happen to believe that dreams allow all of the you's to convene together, however. You aren't separate, and, if you're open to it, some can even learn from their other selves.

Friendships you remember from the first introduction, the ones you fall into as easily as dropping into a pile of leaves, those are past relationships that maintain the emotional connection from the first world, the other time.

Love that hits you like the apple on Newton's head, out of nowhere and an immediate clarifying moment, is a soul-mate for whom you were made. Not in every life are you with the same soul-mate, but there are certain spirits drawn together, regardless of the world surrounding them. And there is that moment-that realization-that connection- one for which you don't work. or give up.

It is too precious to give up. And only THIS you, only the you which exists in this parallel dimension, is able to enjoy the love growing with that spirit. Gather it as a blessing and hold it close.

Blessings are far too fleet-footed. It's easy to get wrapped up in sadness. But if you find yourself getting caught in that, maybe connecting with yourself on a different level could bring illumination on the many things you do have.


A different level of you is a different existence of you.

Boredoom

Boredom is interesting to ponder upon--

It is a waste of the only thing of which it is impossible to get more.
Time.
Boredom is a waste of time.

and employment is so often boredom, in this office-cubicle, computer-screen, technological world. So it is required of some to sit and become more and more involved in the emptiness of endless numbers and names.

wouldn't you want to look at thousands of lines of names and addresses? numbers and codes? 5 days a week, 8 hours a day, both ways to and from chock full of traffic like a clogged artery.
That doesn't sound ideal to you?

Really, all I want is a job that doesn't repeat the same thing every day.

And doesn't involve a half-hour conversation about Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and how Velveeta mac and cheese isn't *really* "mac and cheese" but  "Shells and cheese".
Monotony. Stupidity. Futility.

Is it really that much to ask for a creative job that makes enough to live on? At least there is a real purpose to creativity.

Database management? Not so much (when you loathe technology anyway).

Caesura

The break in and of a line is a most expressive punctuation. 

Or lack thereof

It's interesting to me that it doesn't pose a different thought,

or thought process,

but a continuation after a brief pause.

Kind of like a stop sign. 

It's a pause in speech, a pause in meaning, a pause in thought.

A rest, almost. Words are heavy, heavy work. A break in a line is a break nonetheless. 

How I long for a break.

Not much--too much

I don't have much to say today. Far too much running through my mind to express in any kind of visual, literary art.

One piece of advice:

Remember to think things over before you speak. There's no way to take it back if you've said the wrong thing.

Something as small as the emotions attached to your statement can be detrimental to your intention.

The end of a monologue

Throughout the day, I remember bits and pieces. Seconds of clutched breath where my ribs feel depleted and I fight to take in a breath. Moments where I sense a heat searing my neck, curling the hairs growing there. Hours where I wish the earth would crack and swallow me whole.

I can’t imagine I’m alone in this.

Nightmares have a ghastly way of affecting ourselves in real-life. Because of the sheer mental creation of them, it’s not really possible to ignore their suggestions. One’s own brain isn’t something they can shut out and pretend doesn’t exist. So I suppose dreams don’t occur in a fake-life at all. Sleeping must be a part of real-life. 

I suppose dreams are so frightening because of how real they are. 

vague rhymes about time

Why is it that time
spent working
passes forever
and that happiness
splits so fast
it seems almost never.

Confusion abounds
and boredom born.
While the seconds
are whiled away,
in vain attempts
procrastination beckons.

Do you fall privy
to the waste
of the one thing
that is priceless?
It can't be returned--
Start celebrating.

a dream

She breathes deep and takes off.
Soaring above trees and over boulders, eyes ever upon the circle of darkness whereupon the dangerous foe rests. As she grows closer, she can see the smoke curving out of the opening, billowing up to block out the sun, casting the cave into further darkness.

The beast awaits.

The hero's heart sinks as she tries to pull back, away from the terror resting in the dark, but her pace continues on despite her frantic stopping motion. She can almost hear laughter at her futile efforts and she draws closer to the smoke, feeling it's heat now.

She lands inside the lip of the cave and a glowing eye opens lazily, visible through the thick haze. An eye the size of a serving platter; a predatory gleam in the familiar, scaled gaze. A taloned finger approaches from behind the smoke, attached claw as sharp as a broadsword and far more sturdy.

The dwarfed dreamer pleads as the claw approaches her face, forcing her back to the very edge of the sheer cliff. She scrambles away, ducking and crawling from the pursuing grasp. The claw follows her and catches her back, slicing through her shirt and between her shoulder-blades.

A throaty laugh accompanies her outcry of pain and she feels her arms go limp. She crashes to the ground, nose catching her fall, and the answering crack echoes within her head. Blood floods down her chin as she dizzily tries to rise, finally achieving a sitting position on her ankles as she sways dangerously.

She struggles to focus her sight, shaking the spots from her vision in time to see a gleaming grin of points. They separate and heat bathes her, burning her skin and searing her open eyes. A spark catches deep in that cavernous, open throat and fire surrounds her.



A scream wakes her, and she finds herself bathed in sweat, both arms twisted beneath her body and tingling with sleep.

Debates and elections

I don't like people who harp about politics. I actually don't like politics as a whole, which just makes it worse that everyone loves to shove their opinions down other's throats.

First off, I would like to state that ANY "facts" can be proven, given the correct test subjects and controlled variables. And whoever is funding the research is essentially paying for very particular results. Therefore, it's almost impossible to trust most people, especially politicians. Those men (and women) are already FAR too comfortable with lying to a whole country.

Secondly, the President is allowed to have vacations. And spend some money. And take nights off to be with his family. Would we really want someone who didn't care about his family in the White House? If he didn't care about his family, how could you imagine he cares about yours?

Thirdly, if everyone just tears each other's heads off, we are eventually going to be a country full of ignorant, headless bodies ripe for the picking. Interrupting and insulting and baiting are the tactics of a young child. I'd like to think we are better than that.
We are not Democrats and Republicans and Independents.

We are Americans. I am proud of that.

but I sure would love that to be a positive connotation throughout the world. So let's work on being a more mature country.

And can that start with the politicians, our examples.

Waking

Awakening sore and tired
makes the effort futile.
why rest a head, a mind,
a smile,
just to feel a back cricked.

Leave to work a full-time day
of sitting.
All the pressure pushing down
on every vertebral fitting,
an injury I wouldn't've picked.

Being at my desk and staring
at the bright, glowing screen,
makes me want to run and hide
and scream.
After hours, still feeling licked.

But today is before tomorrow,
so on.
The next-next day I anticipate,
not the driving in pre-dawn.

It's just that I'm an undead addict
and can't wait for that conflict.

patient zero

This evening, I get to live out my gruesome fantasies of the world inhabited by undead creatures.

Tonight, my friends will join with me to frighten the poor drunks of the Cotati Crawl.

Today, I start the apocalypse.

I never thought I'd like being patient zero so much.


My ideas being that once I am undead, I will pass on the "infection" to the next person I make-up. And so on, and so on, and so on, until there is a shambling, groaning horde.


Braaaaaaaaainnnsssssssssss.
i'msohappyitsfriday/halloweenseason.

Falling apart

I feel like if I could only just

fall apart,

I could put myself back together right.
Like there's some kind of connection missing. Or a synapses that doesn't fire quite right. Maybe a loose joint, missing a bit of extra cartilage?

And if I could just collapse into little pieces, they could all find the right place to be and I won't feel so odd all the time. Sure, the building-back will take time.

But at least I would be fixed.



But I can't fall apart. I'm needed, whether broken or fixed. And I don't have the time to break me down to the beginning again. The question is, how do you fix something that is wrong from the ground up

without starting at the ground?

Sometimes

Sometimes I want to scream at the top of my lungs and to the razor's edge of the horizon.

I want to be loud and obnoxious. I want to make people notice me.
I want to express my prison and my nature. My freedom and my confusion.
I want to scream it out. Until my voice is hoarse and my eyes are swollen.

I want to yell of the injustices. And the control.

I want to scream of the sadnesses that just seem to waft around the atmosphere, attaching themselves to whatever being happens across it's destructive path.

I want to sing. I want my every word to be melodic and haunting.
in keeping with my emotions.

I don't want to have to hide it. Or cover it. Or shame myself into quiet.
I want to express it. And get it out. And get it over.

I don't want to be alone. But I want to be myself.

When I type

When I type--
When I know precisely what I am typing--
my fingers cascade down the keyboard, making sounds like the earth crumbling.
It doesn't even sound like words being written, much less information created.

It sounds like destruction and violence.
I guess at 75 wpm, it would sound like that.

Forgiveness

I read this article:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/steve-mcswain/i-tried-so-hard-to-please_b_1906708.html

It had a really beautiful way of looking at the world. And it broaches the fact that it might be hard to stop hating oneself if they are unforgiving of the people around them in the world and vice versa. If a person hates oneself, they are usually pretty harsh on everything else.

I know that these are two of my issues, but I do hope that I never allow my judgments to affect the way I treat anyone. But this brings up an idea that one is usually most critical of the things which are the biggest issue/problem. I know, that's basic common sense, but let me finish. So, if, instead of being irritated at anyone around you for the issues that you have with yourself, why not forgive everything?

If you are able to forgive these terrible tendencies in everyone else, you've got to be able to forgive the terrible tendencies in yourself, right? Which would, most definitely lead to the path of self-respect.

I would imagine.

Huh.

enjoying the world around you

I had a couple of glorious nature moments today. Both seemingly insignificant, but both equally profound and almost silent.

As I left today around 1:30, it was the first time I really noticed the leaves falling this autumn. They were crunchy, as they are every year, and I found myself pouncing upon them, taking great delight in the harsh *crunch* as the dried leaf crumbled into tiny pieces. It feels fun to be such a part of the cycle of nature.

Sure, I'll help you break down that bizniz. Happy Fall.
d (^,^) b

Next, I was driving home from a great rehearsal and rolled down my windows to flush out the air with fresh air. I had my radio on and turned it off, reveling in the lack of noise. I have a little 2-door ford zx2, and it's pretty quiet, especially on back roads with heavy cloud cover. Not a star to be seen, nor the moon--

but the silence was palpable and beautiful. The smell was of damp earth.

Thank you.

Music and the learning effect

All my life I wished I was more musically inclined. That I could just pick up an instrument, and learn it. I tried to learn the guitar, piano, and drums, and lost attention for all of them.

This was made all the more difficult because my best friend was incredibly gifted-- she literally taught herself electric guitar, bass guitar, and drums just from picking up the instrument. I was always envious and had put it down to the fact that it just wasn't my thing. I could sing pretty well, oh sure, but that was where my musical talent stopped. 

And then, I was casted in Cyrano de Bergerac as ensemble. I felt bad, at first, that I didn't get a bigger role, but I figured it was because I was gonna be gone for most of the summer. When I got back from my vacay, I was told that one of my characters was a musician who plays the harp. I'd always loved the way the harp looked and sounded and this one was a mini-handheld version of the larger, ornate instrument. I was so darn excited, I immediately started making songs for it. Thus began my musical understanding. 

Almost a year ago, I picked up a ukulele. Picked a few strings, strummed a few chords. It felt so right in my hands. I knew I had to purchase one. So, I bought this beautiful green one called Savannah online. She came in the mail so fast and I got home and was SO excited to start playing music. I began to tune her. Knobs, back and forth, back and forth. 

All of a sudden, the bridge broke off of the uke. Broke off and smacked me right in the FACE.

I ain't never been bitch-slapped by an instrument before.....

I bought another one, deep mahogany colour and rich tones. She has been named Sunshine and Freedom and she is just as beautiful to hear as she is to look at. A few songs have been written, and many have yet to be writ. 

Yesterday, my new ocarina came in the mail. A baby dragon's tooth ocarina, made of porcelain, but the colour is a deep mahogany. She hasn't a name, but she does have quite a beautiful voice. And, best of all, she can be worn around my neck, quick to play at any time. 

I'm learning that musical instruments (and most of life, dare I say) is not necessarily about being awesome at everything. It's about finding the things that feel right to you. 

And thus, my musical understanding continues. 

On and on and on and on

and on and on and on.

Exploring sexy

While driving in to work today, I was listening to the talking on the radio. I rarely take time to listen to the "morning shows" simply because I find them, usually, trivial and boring. Sometimes, they make a severely negative impression upon me, which is what happened earlier today for the following reason.

The male speaker mentions how he is always a fan of Adele and her music and her looks, etc. The female speaker joins in the conversation, talking about self-esteem and how everyone should be proud of who they are and so on and so forth. The conversation then turns to Lady Gaga's newest photo shoot, where she has apparently gained some weight. Now, both speakers agreed that both of these feminine icons are sexy in their own right and then this happened:

Lady Gaga was attacked for still wearing tight clothes, and posing in her underwear, with her weight gain. Whereas, Adele was glorified for finding her sexy in her singing and standing still onstage.

People. COME ON. You are perpetuating the self-hatred by your attacking of people who are expressing themselves for what they are. Lady Gaga has always worn odd, tight clothes that show off either a lot of skin or a lot of shape. Now you want her to stop doing that? Isn't that stepping on what she does to make herself feel happy?
On the other hand, Adele is beautiful for being able to find her beauty in her passion for her music. I am not trying to detract anything from either of these ladies.

They're both themselves, regardless of circumstances, and they have my largest amount of respect for that.

It's been 5 days. Here's what I've to say.

I feel so disappointed when I find myself writing things that are unimportant. 

Every word should have a meaning, every phrase a purpose. Its why I love literature and theatre. I believe nothing should ever have to be thrown away. Nothing should be observed or described for the mere purpose of being observed or described. 

Why is the statement important? Does it add to the overall beauty of the world? Or does it allow some new insight to nature and life? Perhaps it reminds a person of a wonderful memory or a horrific happenstance. Whatever the purpose for describing, it should be evident in the diction chosen. Don't use all the words--use the *right* words. 

To overly describe, in my opinion, is to torture a story. 

Exercise your judgement

I am in the process of trying to get healthy. I am slightly overweight and it only serves to exasperate my angry joints. My knees, wrists, ankles, toes, fingers.... Oh jeez. I can't even list all of the joints that hurt. Anyways, by strengthening the muscles, I'm strengthening the joints and can *already* feel a difference.

And it's only been three days.

I know I've worked out before and never really stuck with it, and I can't tell if it's because I'm getting old (Oh goodness, please no!) or if it's because I never picked a good time. All of these everybody's talk about how they work out at 5 am or as soon as they get home from work or right before they go to bed, yadda yadda yadda. Well, my workout time is precisely around lunchtime. :)

I like it better. It makes me feel more accomplished in the middle of my workday (I bring a change of clothes, a washrag, and deodorant) while at the same time waking me up out of the monotony and giving me an actual appetite for lunch. I can practically feel the calories burning while I eat.

Speaking of eating, I'm not even really dieting. Granted, since I am gluten intolerant, I automatically cut out things such as breads and pastas, but I am trying to focus even more so on vegetables and things. Mostly, I'm taking the idea of grazing. Not really eating full meals, but just eating sporadically throughout the day when I'm hungry. And I can already see the difference in my figure and feel the difference in my body.

AND IT'S ONLY BEEN THREE DAYS.

Now, I've never been one to preach and tell people to "work out", but this experience has won me over a bit. I just wanna say that there is a *right* time for you to work out. And it's awfully rewarding.

ZED: A beginning

I wrote a thing. Please let me know what you think. I want to know if I should continue the story. :)

Quite a few people who don’t believe in an afterlife aren’t really afraid of dying.

I’m one of those people.

Not that I want to die, or anything, but death would mean a cessation of all the problems associated with living. Namely, dealing with other living things. Or dead things that don’t stay dead.

I’m with the emergency ZED squad. We are the ones who protect your sleeping brains at night while choruses of rotting flesh shamble mindlessly around, highly advanced individuals from other galaxies search for our natural resources, and huge terrorist plots are destroyed. I don’t do it to protect you or yours—I do it to protect me and mine.

A common thought is that America is most well-prepared for these issues. This thinking couldn’t be more incorrect—the amount of money that the United States submits to the ZED squad per quarter is pitiful. Strangely, our greatest contributors are France… Go figure why. Maybe they have the most to lose with a world gone berserk.

Regardless, almost every country in the world donates something to the fight, be it monetary, necessary resources or technology, or simply adding force to our growing army. The new fighters show up ignorant, and in huge numbers only to be sent away again by the hundreds, maybe a couple-ten left behind.

It’s always interesting to me to meet these newbies. They either stand at attention, or sulk in a corner, scowl on their faces. Those are the only ones I pay attention to, at least. The go-getters, the giddy puppies, the nervous wrecks—those are a disgrace. I can’t mold them into what I need, much less trust my back to their distraction and fear.

I seek cool.

Calm.

Collected.   

Everyone is a mite timid when the job is explained. I can see the second-guessing behind their gazes, and sometimes plain on their expression. It’s the ones who settle again, accepting the information and ready to take on a task that most are incapable of imagining. Those are the Stealths and I am the commandant.

We don’t call our soldiers by a violent name—we feel it offers the wrong idea to the latter threats of ZED. Extraterrestrials are always a more highly evolved species and, as such, will respond when a threat is realized. Delinquents (our name for human-apocalypse-starters) understand our way of speaking as humans, and we can’t rest on the belief that they are mentally stable enough not to simply break the world at the mention of “soldiers”. So we’ve settled on the title of Stealths. After all, most of our jobs are imperative to remain highly confidential.

We live our lives in stealth, so we might as well affix our titles to it.

Most people wouldn’t believe how busy I am. Jet-setting around the world in search of those with the endless appetite. In search of the next threat to the planet Earth. I’ve gotten so efficient at taking out the hordes that I sometimes feel as though I am single-handedly holding off the apocalypse. Maybe it’s my dedication to the fight. Maybe it’s my lack of fear. Maybe it’s that I have nothing to fear. Living trapped in horror has always been scarier to me than dying free in battle. That’s why I fight.

Creeping

I hate realizing mid-creep that I happen to be creeping. At this point, I'm referring to facebook stalking... but I suppose it works across the board for creepers everywhere. 

Anyways,

So I discover once I am on picture 32 out of 75 that I have been sitting, staring at my screen and an alarmingly large amount of pictures of one particular persons face-- it doesn't even have to be a person I like, honestly. I just get sucked in and don't even realize that I've been mindlessly thumbing through their photo albums. And then I get to a point that I would really love to comment on an old picture or like someone else's comment on that same picture and I find myself thinking

"Oh. But then they'll know I'm creeping.... Best remain anonymous." 

And I continue looking through a couple more pictures silently before being overwhelmed by my feeling of discomfort... It feels almost like spying. But it isn't, cause it's public? 

Facebook is weird. I like it, but it's doing weird things to our generation...

An ability to walk

Walking is step by step. No one tries to teach a toddler how to walk and asks them to skip, or hop, or jump.

I've been thinking recently how artistic achievements (and probably everything else) are gained by not being afraid of taking the first step. Then the second. Then the third. Knowing that you might get too tired by the eighth or ninth step, but that you'll still be farther than at the start. And that's really what's worth striving for-- the want, the desire, to be further than you are right now.

I've recently liked saying "failure is just an excuse to learn a better way."

Don't be afraid to keep walking. First steps aren't always the hardest, but persevere past problems. When you're done, every little step will have made up a marathon.

I have ONE thing to say today. (I know, odd right? I've always got words falling out of my ears I'm so full of 'em...)

But last night, I completed my most recent crochet/knit accomplishment. And it. is. CUTE.

If you want one, hit me up. We'll talk. :) I have a facebook and an e-mail (alexis.evon@gmail.com). 

Refurbishing

I switched up the stuff on my blog a bit-- You might notice a difference in fonts.
d(^.^)b
It makes me giddy.

One little rant today besides that:
Those who are awesome will not always be recognized as being such.
The people who are recognized are rarely as awesome as they appear.
Life is full of shrouded truths. And there is rarely enough illumination by which to judge.

So don't. Don't be judgemental upon yourself or others. The moment people assume they are able to judge is the moment they assume they are better than their fellows. And arrogance is such a nasty trait.

No where to go,

Not much to say.

So I'll leave with this one today:

Be happy. Know that the where and what can always be changed, but this 'when' will never come again. Take advantage of the 'when' given you.

(keeping those hurt 11 years ago in my thoughts and those who hurt them in my prayers.)
Thank you to all who truly protect and serve.

Have you ever felt yourself

slipping further and further into insanity? It always reminds me of when a person slides into a warm jacuzzi-- not a thoroughly heated-up jacuzzi, mind, because that would only serve to shock the senses into awakeness before allowing it to relax.

No, I am referring to the times when your mind drifts off while you are working on something. It begins to relax and stretch in the warm water of subconsciousness. You don't feel it as it fades away, your idle thoughts becoming more and more odd the further your mind dips into the jacuzzi. The slowly spreading warmth eases your brain from the topics you were trying to put off, and illuminates everything with a strange, eerie light. A light that casts more uncanny shadows than it dispels--shadows that seem take up space. Shadows that whisper and plot, their voices lilting and tempting. Shadows that gesture to dip deeper, swim farther, warm up more, and fall asleep.

Not to worry. The shadows've got you

(In the Pine Shadows, Moonlight J.E.H. MacDonald)

My tired, little toes

Today, i was sitting,
typing away
when my toes started to go numb.
As if i had tweaked them
messed up the joint,
maybe a nerve was too tight.
I wriggled one
then tickled another
and tried to feel the sensation,
but nothing got through
the thick haze of fog
which then clarified my fascination.
I'm curious, it's true,
about why they sleep
when there's so much to complete
and they simply
silently answer,
"we are just connected to your feet.
You don't need us to type,
or drink or to eat,
so let us rest, then, while we can."
it would've scared me,
if it weren't in my head,
Or they didn't make so much good sense.

So, I left 'em alone and let them sleep.

Football Sunday

So, this is a quick one today: I got things to do. :)

First off, UHM, Ace makes a hard pumpkin cider (I assume for Fall-times...?). How did I not know of this happening?! For anyone who doesn't know already, I have a really bad gluten intolerance and I am unable to drink beer without getting atrociously drunk and then hung over the next day. So I love cider. And this? Oh, jeez...

Secondly, I found a cool thing about football. Not to say that there isn't much to find, cause I do enjoy the sport as a whole, but I never grew up watching football, so I get to view it as an outsider on my way into the sphere. I gotta say, it's a new perspective on a very strong undercurrent of American civilization. Wearing the jersey of my boyfriend's team, we were noticed and approached at the grocery store. Now, the Broncos aren't my boys-- I'm forever with the green team number 1 (NY Jets, baby)-- but it's cool to have that immediate, almost unspoken connection with people.

I liken it to the fact that I'm a raging geek/nerd. I love my 'Wars (not much of a 'Trek fan....) and my Arrested Development and so many people don't get the references I make or the silly clothing I have that accompanies my odd interests. BUT, when I go to ComicCon..... Everyone notices. And better, everyone already knows what it is.

It's almost like built-in friendships.

And I like it when the world works like that.

Pondering on spirituality

Recently, I've been encouraged to read a particular book by certain quite religious people in my life to whom I owe *practically* everything-- my parents. Regardless of whether I see all angles of their argument or disagree on every level, their patience and understanding in my upbringing has made me what I am, and I owe them respect in return, at the very least.

BUT

I have recently felt a very strong disconnect between myself and the religion into which I was raised. I never once believed that the Catholic religion was hate-filled, or wrong in it's beliefs-- on the contrary. If you actually go back and read the scriptures with an open mind, more often than not, the passage is about the perpetration of love throughout the world. It's not about spreading wealth, and hating different people, or even trying to convert the world to your own beliefs.
The core idea is loving your neighbor, loving your environment, loving the creatures around you, loving your enemies. LOVE. It is the one thing strong enough to change the world over, a lack of which would also change the face of our planet.

Our world is missing Love. Our societies and human relationships are missing the love which allows happiness and satisfaction to exist. Our persons--our own beings-- are missing love. The vast amount of depression which is running rampant throughout the planet is due (in my opinion) to the extensive amount of self-hatred and self-depreciation.
If this is let go, good can filter in--God can filter in.

I should explain--when I think of God, when I think of the picture or the concept of God, I see only love, personified. I don't see an elderly man with a huge beard and an ever-present smile; I don't see a woman, clothed only in her long, flowing hair and flowers; I don't see a multitude of glowing, glittering deities, sitting around the Parthenon, getting drunk.
Rather, I feel the presence of love. Or I feel the absence of hate. I feel confusion, and loneliness, and sadness melt away as I feel encompassed in so much love that I am brought to tears. That is God to me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't believe any religion is wholly wrong and I don't believe any religion is wholly right.I think the key is to grasp the extraordinary concept of loving everything.
Loving yourself for what you are--an extension of God
Loving every other person for what they are--and extension of God, a differing version of the thing you are
Loving the things that surround you--being grateful for their assistance, for their existence, seeing the effort and time that went into the creation.
Loving the nature that is everywhere--respecting it, embracing it, appreciating it, for the fact that it is God's creation, and a reflection of the beauty that is within yourself.

Gathered words.

A few things to share:
1.)
Sometimes when I'm working, my breathing speeds up and my eyes fill with tears, spilling over onto my cheeks or even my hands, busy and fluttering over the keyboard. I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of nothingness. Of boredom to the extent of absence. Of absolute numbness to the world.
I'm not 'sad' necessarily. Just done. Done with pointless conversations and useless numbers. Done with technology and telephones. Done with coffee and lunch-times and the stupid little fan that I have to have otherwise I get lightheaded. 'Course, I get lightheaded even with the fan.

2.)
make a song.
make a thing.
dance a dance,
fling a fling.
make all for yourself
express yourself
be yourself
you are the only  one
like you
in the world.
so be in the world.
make for the world.
sing to the world.

3.)
When you’re sad, the thoughts weigh on me
Making the world and all it’s things so heavy.
I wish I could throw them off of me and you
And make everything like when we were new.

When the world was happy and bright
And we went out every night
And we thought that light
would come of everything.
That was when I felt right.

We make plans together
Or rather I make plans forever
For years away and down the road.
It seems I'll never be free of this load.

Listening

To listen is a very unique characteristic and skill.
Listen to everyone who speaks. You never know what they're going to say.

Or what they need.
Maybe all they need is that one ear,
peeled for the plea
that they've tried to hide
within the words of nothingness.

People speak of nothingness in order to free their mind from the terrible "something"s.

If someone always says nothing to you, try to see why. Or just listen to their nothing. You'll hear the honesty behind their words and feel what is right.
It's human nature to know how to help others. Especially if that help comes in the form of silence and support. Try it: it's one of the easiest things to do,

to listen and love your fellows.
It's terribly underrated.

Weekend-end

Tuesdays are always more poignant when they fall after a three-day weekend. It's got the underlying feeling of a 'Monday' while still being that one-more-day closer to the next weekend. Why do people live weekend-to-weekend these days anyways?

Maybe that should be the point...

If we are supposed to make ourselves live for today, everyday, then it leads me to wonder why society seems to be so focused on Fridays. Why is it that human beings feel it such an arduous task to enjoy the work that they accomplish on Monday through Thursday? I know, personally, I am always proud of my creative work done in my free time (evenings and weekends) but I feel just bogged down and tired out by my amount of tasks at my place of work. Which is funny, cause I don't even have all that much to do. I've got a good job. Maybe it's a bit boring, but if that is my only complaint.... Well, jeez. I count myself ten kinds of lucky. 

Live for today. Be happy with everything. Be proud of the things you do. But be proud FOR YOU. If all of your attempts are to better yourself, then you are steadily bettering everything. 

Oh, and smile. Because it tends to help with the happy.

d(^-^)b

Happy Labor Day!

Today is a holiday from work (huzzah!) and I hoped to have a nice, relaxing day. Last night, we closed our performance of Arsenic and Old Lace and it. was. good. Every last one of the audiences spoke volumes about how much they enjoyed their time spent in the theatre, regardless of the size. And that makes me feel so successful. Everyone kept using the word "fun" and that is truly what I wanted from this show. 

Thanks to all who attended! And my cast-mates are the TITS. Awesome show, ladies and gents. To everyone who didn't make it-- come out next time. I'll keep ya updated.

I had a very intense conversation today. Talking about politics is always interesting and usually volatile, but I encourage all to do everything to keep your cool. It's not worth it to lose it and make a fool of yourself, especially if you are talking to someone that you actually like. Or adore. Whatever the case may be, you will not be happy after you snap at them and hurt their feelings. You won't be happy after you continuously condescend even after the other has specifically asked you to stop. There is a lack of respect there. 

Make sure you share your opinion with respect, is I guess my moral here... As my mother always so eloquently put it:

"Opinions are like assholes-- everybody's got one and they all stink."

Musing

So I've already checked in once today, but I have this thing I wrote a few workdays ago and I wanna share it. I don't know what else to do with it...

When my mind is wandering,
I want it to get lost
for a forced adventure
at whatever the cost.
My life would be exciting,
a tale in a story.
Not sitting at a screen,
staring and boring.

Today

I'm trying to take new steps today. To live in a moment and yet think about the consequences of said moment. To think about the things that I say, the things that I assume, and the things that I imagine. I am trying to become a better person.

Because that is the only way to a better world. Through making everyone better.

So support that person who's always been there for you. Listen to that one friend that is always the shoulder to cry on. Open the door for people and smile at strangers.

DON'T TEAR YOURSELF DOWN.
The world will do that enough. You are your own strongest support. Make sure it stays that way.