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.