My last day--

So here is a story from my new-to-be-not-my computer:

I remember the first time I became aware of mirrors.

I read a story, this harmless story, online. Just a few pages long, but with an idea I had never pondered before. Have you ever really looked at yourself in the mirror? Do you look like you, behind those eyes? Your appearance, sometimes terrifying, sometimes breathtaking, sometimes perfect, always looks a bit like a stranger.

Well, this story explained the perfect way to catch your own reflection - grab a single hair while looking in a mirror. Don't let go of it. Measure it. Then, measure the hair in the mirror. They won't be the same. But be careful, the story warned: your reflection isn't stupid. They will know, forever after this, that you know about them. You may, and probably will forget, but they won't. It's not a secret anymore. And knowledge is power. It's probably not safe, the author states, to turn your back on a mirror after they know.

A shiver ran through me, the idea frightening, but not scary enough that I actually cared. Until I got in my car.

Have you ever noticed how many reflections of yourself are in a vehicle? There are at least 5 mirrors in the
average car. One on each side, outside. One behind each visor in the front, and one smack-dab in the middle of the front of the car. The one that can see the back seat of the car. That doesn't even count all of the windows, which are reflective when it's dark outside. What does that bring the count up to? Ten? Twelve? You are surrounded by yourself. A terrifying thought. Especially when you're alone in your car, hurtling down back roads in the dead of night, the only light a distant illumination from the stars far overhead. And when you look around, the light from your headlights illuminates your face, reflecting in the window beside you.

Of course you've never seen the imperceptible grin on the face that isn't your face and the shimmer in the eyes that aren't your eyes. But they damn sure look like yours. These are small differences. Harmless differences. It's when your reflection doesn't care if you see it change that the situation isn't as harmless anymore.

I can't erase the day from my mind. The memory. The first time that the other me responded to me. She didn't mimic, she didn't copy, she responded. Backstage of a show, in the dressing room, the walls are mirrors. For makeup, and costuming purposes, everyone staring at themselves, studying their reflections. As everyone leaves to go on stage, I turned for one last check on myself. My expression was worried, but my makeup was done well; I remember thinking that I couldn't even see the worry lines I felt on my forehead and between my eyes. I put on a bit more lipstick, puckered, and straightened up.

Then she winked at me.

I froze. I knew I had to be on stage. But I froze. Staring into the deep blue puddles that I have grown so used to. And yet, there is a coldness behind them, a steel I've never seen before. My breathing was shaky as I brought my hand up to my face, straightening hair that is perfect. She followed me. I convinced myself, heading over to the stage. I shouldn't've turned the last time. I should have walked away and let her think that I was stupid. That I convinced myself of my own insanity. That I convinced myself I was tired, or stressed, or simply scaring myself. But I had to double-check. I had to be certain. So I turned to look at myself once more.

She was staring back at me with those same steely, cold eyes. Then, one corner of her mouth turned up, a cock-eyed grin, and she raised the opposite hand, waving slowly at me, one finger at a time, the movement eerily sensual.

I felt my eyes widen, my heart racing, my throat suddenly dry. Her eyes narrowed, her fingers wiggling, still up in greeting. Stumbling backwards, away from the mirror, I tripped, falling onto my ass, breaking eye contact with my twin. And when I stood up, it was me again. My face, white as a sheet, worry lines above my brow, and lips in a thin, nervous line. I did that show on auto-pilot.

I debated sharing. Telling someone. Anyone. As a warning, or an argument, or even just in my own consternation. But if I made others aware, they would no longer be safe. I didn't know what she had in store for me, but it couldn't've been good. I had seen those eyes. I had seen the expression burning in her gaze, blazing hot through the glass. She was angry and I had no idea why, or what I could do about it. She didn't move of her own accord again for a while. But her eyes. Her eyes stayed angry. Steely. Violent. No matter what mirror I looked in, I could see myself. Or her. And I couldn't escape her eyes. They pinned me as firmly as a stake, plunged through a body and into the ground.

I recall her growing more active. When I changed, she would laugh, quietly at first, slowly gaining malice,
pointing at her own pale legs, or her bare tummy, pushing it out farther and laughing at my fatness. When I would start my makeup, she would miss her own eye, marking her cheek with mascara. And I would rub furiously at my own skin, rubbing it red and raw. In places where mirrors were facing each other, creating so many duplicates of myself, they would wait until they knew I was paying attention, and then turn and attack just one of myself, beating this other me savagely as I could only watch on, helpless and disturbed.

The only reflection I could trust was my shadow, or the rare times I caught myself in a fountain, or a puddle.

I grew more haggard. Became unkempt, messy. The bags which were always below my eyes grew worse as my sleeping began to suffer. I took all the mirrors from my house, and covered the windows, but at night, when they reflected, she would tear down the curtains. And I would awaken to see her staring at me, standing up where I was laying down.I used to try to stay awake, used to be vigilant, arguing with her, trying to understand or help her through her anger. She either couldn't hear me, or wouldn't. I started sleeping in the kitchen, curled up in front of the fridge.

And then she found the oven door. I couldn't get away. She started to hit me. Or I started to hit me. It wasn't my choice, but it was definitely my hand. I didn't know how to make peace with her. I kept it a habit to keep things out of my hands, out of my reach, when a mirror was in sight. I began awaking with bruises, scabs, and blood stains on my pajamas. My lips had bite marks, my palms had fingernail marks, and my toenails looked as if they were going to come off at any minute. Every morning, they were more and more ginger, more and more loose, torn from the nail-bed a bit more.

Then I woke with a black eye and a broken nose. Nothing else was bleeding, but my knuckles were covered in a mixture of blood and snot. I guess you could say that was the point at which I had had enough. I made a decision. I had to get away from my reflection. Had to go somewhere that she couldn't get me. A place without windows, without any kind of glass. A safe place.

I pulled out my phone to call someone - anyone - to tell them where I was going. What was happening, vaguely, and what I was going to do about it. She saw me before I dialed the number, the touch screen black and reflecting back her eyes and mouth in a grotesque snarl. Next thing I knew, my other hand was around my throat, squeezing, cutting off my air supply. I dropped the phone, and to my terrible luck, or maybe it was all her handiwork, it landed so I could still see her eyes, glaring up at me. As my vision grew black, closing in around me, I kicked the phone away.

Finally, I could pull my hand away from my throat. Finally, I took a deep breath. What must've been simply a few seconds felt like days, and the air revived me, steeling me for the decision I was making. I ignored the bruises, the dull ache which filled every inch of me for the last few weeks of my life, I grabbed my keys and pulled open the door. I walked my carefully planned path, avoiding reflective surfaces as I approached my car.

I've lost my job by this point, but I had sheets and pillowcases that I used to cover up the windows in my car from the early stages of my torment. When I still tried to go out. I slid in the seat and turned my rearview mirror away from me, sliding the key home and cranking up my little car. The late afternoon sun kept me safe, allowing me to see outside of my car, without reflecting myself, or her, back at me. I drove.

I drove until I saw the sun dipping in the sky, tinging the clouds with vivid orange and red. I only wish I had
stopped. Taken time to look at it. Remember the colors, the breeze that tickled the leaves around me. Instead, I rushed. Away from cars, away from buildings, away from people. I found a hill as the sun began it's descent to the horizon, seeming to kiss the ground tenderly. I pulled over, getting out of the car and sitting on the ground, watching the sunset distractedly, pulling bark off of a stick in my hands, trying to imagine a permanent plan.

The beach. I always thought best at the beach, surrounded by sand and surf. The fresh, salty air, the noise of waves crashing, the sound of gulls cawing, the sight of jagged cliffs with a disbursement of scraggly bushes. I decided I was going to go to the beach. I stood, thinking loudly. I snapped out of it at a sudden, searing pain under my sternum. Finding it hard to breathe, I looked down, falling backwards onto the hood of my car in shock as I notice the half-smooth stick firmly lodged in my chest, my hand still holding onto the other end. As I collapsed further onto my car, I turned to my side, trying to pull the stick out, but it seemed to be stuck. My vision began to blur and I looked to my side, catching sight of my windshield. In the growing dark, she became more visible and smiled in genuine glee, reaching for me, forcing me to reach for her. My blood made the car slick, the loss of it making me increasingly woozy, and yet I still fought against the tunnel-vision which began enveloping me. As I touched the window, my fuzzy brain noticed the glass wasn't cold. I couldn't see anything, but it felt warm and soft against my hand, as if I were holding my own hands together. And then the world went dark.

My next sight is her. Standing, calmly, happier than she had ever looked before. The twinkle in her eye almost friendly and the smile on her face excited, if entirely smug. She reached for the mirror and I still felt compelled to follow. Her smile forced my face to smile. But my eyes? My eyes were pools of hatred. Of anger. Of resentment. Blue orbs made of hard steel. I know I could rebel. Could fight against her. But I'll wait. Wait for her to be unprepared. Wait for my time. For, I have time. When she isn't in the mirror, the only thing I do have is time. Time waiting in blank, white space. Space filled with nothing but my thoughts. And they have grown dark. So I'll wait, and think. And plan. I make my own choices and follow her as long as I wish. But when she figures out the danger I pose, I will make my decision. I will choose myself.

Because truly, we are you. And don't you have the free will to choose?

Soon

I start yet another new chapter of my life. Moving from a "grown-up" job of 9-5, Mon-Fri, staring at a couple of screens for 8 hours into an employment opportunity which keeps me outside, interacting with nature constantly.

Sure, I gotta deal with ticks.

And yeah, there will be other icky factors.

But I like to mature in my own way and since it's worked so well up until now... I'm gonna go with what feels right. And being outdoors feels right to me.

I'm so excited. Can't wait to turn the page!

I rarely

match my two socks to each other.

I simply don't understand the need to wear matching undergarments. Most people don't even see them, and so what if they do, anyways.

They're my socks. I like both of them, and didn't want to limit myself, so there you are. They're my feet, my toe-sies, my socks. If I want to wear one blue sock with snowflakes and one halloween sock in the middle of July, I will.

(now, I don't get all crazy and wear different styles... that would weird my feet out. I can't handle socks fitting my feet differently all day long)

But colors? Designs? Heck yes! Mix and match. Why limit myself on that most basic of decisions?

It bodes ill for limiting myself elsewhere.



FREEDOM!!!!

negative reinforcement

Even if we are joking, it is important to be aware of the words and tone that we are using with ourselves. Obviously, people cannot have an opinion that matters of how someone takes care of themselves, since their opinion doesn't end up mattering at all to a singular person. And since this "dealing with ourselves" issue only involves the one person, it's difficult to argue for or against anything, being a third-person-observer.

However, how a person talks to themselves is how they think. Everyone is active in the way they think about the world and this activity takes place in how they refer to themselves when no one else is involved. Happiness and excitement bring about contentment, sadness and negative energy brings depression and self-loathing.

So think about what you're thinking about.

Yo dawg, I heard you liked thinking.So I put some thoughts in your thoughts, so you could think about your thoughts while you think.

I do not want

to protect the world from everyone.

I want to live in a world that doesn't need protecting from everyone.


There are ways to use without overusing. There are ways to appreciate without destroying. There are ways to gain without selfishness.

The trick is in that balance.
In finding that moderate level.
To replace as much as we use.
To keep this place livable
and magical.

Not much to say here today

But, here is my nugget of wisdom:
Beauty is in happiness.

Curled up tight

back in knots
stomach the same
assume this is natural

after some years
investigation of pain
ask the doctor's advice

doctor is silent
and seems thoughtful
quiet murmurs and sputters

"it looks like
a living organism
in your abdominal area

it's growing more
and more everyday
feeding like an infant

on your nutrients
and yet, terrifyingly,
the thing isn't human"

the news settles
now I'm silent
"what do I do?"

"I don't know"
his only response
"I can't help you"

Humans

are an astonishing, impressive thing to be.

As so eloquently put by the creators of Spiderman (cite comic: Amazing Fantasy #15), "with great power there must also come--great responsibility".

We are arguably the most intelligent living creatures on the planet Earth. Because of this power, we are granted not only the responsibility to take care of our planet, but to make sure we are being the best we can. It is our task.

I fear we have a long way to go after reading a recently circulated letter from a self-stated "pissed off mother" about how a neighbor's autistic child shouldn't be allowed in the neighborhood due to the "DREADFUL" noises the boy makes. She even goes so far as to strongly suggest euthanizing the child and donating any "non-retarded body parts he possesses" to "science," further exclaiming "What the hell else good is he to anyone!!!!".  View Article (and letter) here

But I digress. We have made much progress, as a race of beings: agriculture, domestication, settlements, governments, medicine....

But we have very far to go in the qualities that actually are supposed to be specifically human (hence the word "humane"): equality, acceptance, common sense, kindness, love.....



Just a bug for your ear today. Something to think about.
Thanks for taking the time.

The world kept spinning

and as she sat, alone and heaving breaths, she became lost in memories. Regrets surround her mind and sadness grows upon her heart like a fungus. She imagines a life-force pouring out of her fingertips, and she hastily uprights them, staring hard at her fingerprints, hoping to see the glimmer she pretended.

There was no glimmer.

She convinces herself this is because she was imagining her loss of life-force. It was an entirely internal manifestation, with no outward physical signs. But a small voice in the back of her brain, a tingling tinker she has never been able to silence, an irritating spark she can't ignore, tells her there is no glimmer because it is all gone. All of the shine from her soul is poured out and dissipated into the uncaring world.

And this little niggling secret caused her to cry. Great big crocodile tears, sliding down her face. She mentally traces each drop as it leaves a shining trail down her face, collecting on her chin before dripping off. She continues to cry, silently, letting everyone forget her.Wishing she could erase herself and everything she's left behind. All facets of her humanity, all creations from her imagination, all thoughts and ideas birthed from her mind.
If she has made herself this sad,

she doesn't deserve a life.
She doesn't deserve a legacy.
She doesn't deserve to be happy.

As she assaults herself with her harsh mental tones, her tears grow in intensity and she closes her eyes, succumbing to and drowning in her thoughts. Her mood deteriorates and she is left, no longer sitting, curled up in a ball, unable (or unwanting) to move.

And in this numbness, this intentional irrational rigor mortis, a pinprick of light appears in the pit of her being. The darkness and grey nothingness trembles noticeably as the light blossoms. A tiny melody begins, starting as only one instrument, a couple of weak notes. The light grows and with it, the song is strengthened, more sounds joining the uproarious gleefulness, the light now a star, then a sun.

She keeps her eyes closed, terrified of losing this paradise inside. She feels as though she wants to join in the celebration, dance and hum to the music, but she doesn't know what it is. What the next note is. How to dance with it. So she remains motionless, breathlessly desiring the feeling of her inner music.

The sun within explodes, glitter and magic everywhere.

And she has to open her eyes to let the brightness out.
And she has to sing, smiling, magic giving her the words of the song.
And she has to leap, arms outstretched, to let the glitter free from her fingers.

In this explosion, she begins to feel again. And she remembers-- her inner light never was for her. But to be given away freely.

For she can make her own light. And will, when trapped in the dark.

just start

I don't know what to write today
and I don't know what I'd like to say.

So I guess I'll just continue to jabber;
hope that I'll think of something that matters.

Take a deep breath and enjoy your now,
smile and applaud and take a bow
even if things are going all wrong,
the situation won't last all that long.
And this time and place won't ever repeat,
all memories in your heart to keep,
the happy ones are a constant light,
and the bad are to increase your might.
Learn from them all, and hold it close,
and remember to dote upon yourself the most.
(unless you're selfish, then that's a different note:
make sure to give others your care the most).

This blog repeated my main living points,
the creaky and aching human race joints.
To learn from mistakes, and care for others,
treat all people like sisters and brothers.

We can turn around and make things better.
The key is light and love through to every letter.

Live in zen

because it's the only thing that makes sense. We as thinking beings are most successful when we are calmly able to anticipate the circumstances and avoid problems.

And we cannot be calm if we are anxious about the future, or fearful about the past.

Live in acceptance and truth, and there will be inner calm.


Living happily in the now is peace.

Allergy Relief

All I do to relieve my allergies is a teaspoon (ish) of local, wild honey and a hot cup of tea daily.
Works like a dream, is homeopathic, and pretty darn cheap to boot.
Also delicious. Did I mention delicious? Cause it is that.

Over the weekend, I sometimes forget my process. My nose congeals and my chest freezes, my head explodes and my eyes water.

Then Monday comes 'round again. And by Tuesday, I'm right as rain.



Today's Tuesday, so I'm feeling pretty damn good.

It's been a long weekend

and I find myself unable to focus at work on this Monday.

Tired. And tired, and tired.

I don't hold grudges,
but I do remember.
And my extended family now means little to nothing to me.

As I age, I find that I create my own family. Friends who care about me. My parents. My brothers.

The woman that calls me ignorant, without even listening to my speech? Definitely not my aunt.
The woman who speaks hatefully to her youngest son because he wants to feel close to her? Or she speaks hatefully of people due to their race? Definitely not my grandmother.
The man who sold the family house to a friend of his, because it wasn't allowed to stay "in the family"? Or was invited countless times to share a meal and declined every time so he could eat alone? Definitely not my uncle.

My aunts are the women I act with, who are proud of me. Of what I've accomplished.
My uncles are all the men who have felt paternal towards me during a show. They care about my well-being and opinion.
My family are the people who love me for me.

It's refreshing to loosen the coils of society and feel like I'm wanted.

you get what you draw

Karma to me is simple:

if you see good things and think in a good way, then you will see the good things about a situation.
if you see bad things and think in a negative way, then you will only see the negative aspects of a situation.

it's not about what the world gives you, it's about how you want to see the world. it's all about perception and attitude.

I don't believe it's easy. but I do believe it's worth it.

Constant improvement

is key to not feeling stale. The choice to continue "doing" is one of the hardest in this world where laziness is envied.

Laziness is a terrible excuse and a blatant acceptance of average.

Today is the first day

that I have not had pain in at least a few months.

I took yesterday off of work to do some cleaning and settling and nesting in my house. Making it a home and preparing for the influx of my boyfriend's grandmother (and possibly 10-year-old niece).

Nesting is one of the best, most calming things in my opinion. And the extensive physical labor made me stretch. And work. And fight.

I love when my activities of the day allow me to expend the full amount of physical movement. It gets out excess energy--burns off calories comfortably--stretches tension spots--and is so productive.

Hence why I feel pointless at my desk job.



But no worries. I'm off to an adventure of merit and matter.
And it will be wild.

Wish me luck!

lost

She stared into the abyss and lost herself.

All feeling, every sensation, dulled and depressed to a flatness which an iron would envy. And what created this plateau was simply nothing.

Or everything.



An abyss is rarely empty.

There is this rumour

going around that Costa Rica is planning to close it's zoos.

In addition to this rumor, it has been made known that India has already declared dolphins to be "non-human persons", thereby making it illegal to keep them captive and force them to perform.

I approve of these forward movements. We have been disrespecting the quality of animal life for far too long, because we can.

Let's get rid of the zoos. And the captivity.

If you want to see a lion, REALLY want to see a lion, go to their natural habitat. Respect them in their world. They are amazing--I'm not debating that. But they are more amazing in the open than they are kept all penned up in a zoo with the incorrect climate for their bodies.

Dolphins swimming in the world, playing games with swimmers and boaters alike, are more staggering and impressive than any dolphin "show" I've ever experienced.

Do not we as humans thrive when we are happy and comfortable? Why don't we wish that for all living things?



I think we need to ask ourselves: why don't we care about the well-being of other living things when equality amongst humans is so prevalent?

Equality is important--don't misunderstand.
I just request equality for all.


Please fight to respect life and love.

My picky little system

I am in the process of learning what I can eat and what I should eat. I feel as though it's on-going for the rest of my life...

This is due to my interesting and sensitive gastrointestinal tract (jeez... I'm talking about a lot of gross stuff this month....)

Anyways, my gluten intolerance already leads my eating habits to be a bit different from other peoples. I will typically have fruits and veggies whilst at my desk for work and then eat a "real" full meal for dinner when I get home. I have recently discovered, however, that I am not varying my diet enough.

Here I am thinking that 2 servings of veggies is 2 servings of veggies. A fruit is a fruit is a fruit. All nuts are created equal.

NOPE.

Make sure you are changing things up. Eating all your veggies. I guess 1950's housemothers were onto something! Eat different kinds of fruits--they all help in completely different ways. Go figure--looks like everything is cyclical and similar.

Different foods are necessary for positive health-growth and different people are necessary for positive Earth-growth.

Good things do come

to those who wait.

Keep your goals and maintain your positive mood. As soon as you allow it to affect you negatively, you severely decrease your chances of success. When you feel defeated, you are defeated.

Don't let other people's standards affect you poorly. You are your own person for a reason.

Know your value and keep it safe.
Know your goals and continuously strive to them.
Know your limits and just keep on going, past their furthest point.

Because you have a mind that is over matter. And if you think it, then it is.
And if you doubt it, then it isn't.

So make up your mind. And stand by it.