I wish I was a bear
Wrapped and warm in fur
Hidden away from winter wear
In sleep I would confer
I find that I am bare
Naked without my faith
Exposed and retreating where
Sleep becomes a wraith
I wish I had a bear
Stuffed full of love and hope
With button eyes so fair
Stable against this tightrope
I have all these wishes
And the warmth of friends that care
Full of love their dishes
My heart beats as the bear
I got the kind of news on thanksgiving day that you keep thinking you’re going to wake up to find it was just a bad dream. Mostly. I knew the possibility of it all. It shouldn’t come as a shock, but when it happens to someone you love very dearly, someone who affects so much of your life, it’s hard to get out of that denial.
Now it colors every aspect of my thoughts and I’m not sure what to write about.
If this was just a diary I would write any drivel that seeps across my addled brain. I’m kind of glad I have an audience…however small. It discourages me from wallowing in my own self pity. It still makes interesting topics difficult however.
So the answer is…write. That’s always the answer. No matter what. Write.
Growing up I remember my father telling me that a woman who has gotten naked with a man cannot be raped. If she’s gone that far with him than she’s obligated to go “all the way”. on the surface I’d say he was a madman, but I think there is an undercurrent of adherence to this belief in this world. I don’t think its openly there, but some part of most people kind of thinks this. I could be just twisted though.
Getting into BDSM one of the first things I was taught is if someone says “red” or calls out an obvious safe word the scene stops. There doesn’t have to be a reason, it doesn’t matter whats going on, and it doesn’t matter who says it everything stops and the person who stopped the scene is cared for. It was this precept that was constantly reiterated that made me comfortable enough to start exploring myself. I was finally ok with the idea that if something made me uncomfortable, no matter what I was doing, I could stop and I wouldn’t be a bad person. Some people are even into that. It’s called ‘tease and denial’ and if I’m a top in anything it would be that. Ha ha! I love being a tease. I don’t like hurting people though so I would only do it to someone who enjoyed that.
Having someone I trust unconditionally has also helped me come out of my shell. I’m a lucky girl.
Have a happy Thanksgiving and I hope you have a lot to be thankful for.
Tonight is…moonshine and Diablo 3.
I have this idea. A girl, about 13, sits down on a park bench to start drawing. She looks to her right and finds a tiny notebook. Being a kid more curious than wary she picks it up. Inside is a strange series of scratches in a multitude of colors of dipped ink. To almost anyone in the world it would only be random doodles, but to this special little girl it’s a map to an extraordinary place.
In another world, closer to this one than you think, a little gray kitty with orange eyes named Elet ransacks her room glimmering in candlelight searching for something she lost. It is something of unbelievable importance. She reassures herself that it’s fine. It’s here and if it’s not then it’s somewhere no one can read it. Little does she know her mistake is about to make two worlds collide.
I’m basing the characters off my daughter and my cats. My daughter will love it. Not sure if it will go anywhere. The ideas are still very much in their infant stage. I can only say this about this new idea:
And now for something completely different!
But hey, maybe that’s what I need…something different. Life keeps feeling like dead ends lately. I changed my dating pool – ten plus years younger to almost 30 years older – and it worked. Maybe getting away from more adult lean in my writing will finally help me find my muse? Who knows? I’ll just have to wait and see.
A few years ago I was pretty sure I was dying. How sure? When 911 came to my office no one blinked an eye. It wasn’t for me, but everyone else was as sure as I was apparently. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Part of that was my fault. I’m not the regular check up kind. A friend of my mine was a recently diagnosed celiac and urged me to take gluten out of my diet. What the hell? I did it and I got better. Decided to stop paying the docs to torture me and cut gluten out of my diet. Should I go back and really find out what happened? Eh…I feel better.
So whats the silver lining? I’ve gained a few pounds over the last few weeks for various reasons. The main reason is I eat more when I’m happy. I don’t want to go back to what I was, I’ve found that if I don’t eat after 6 I lose weight pretty fast. So I fixed an all gluten meal for my kid. Can’t eat it. I was forced to eat the salad which was pretty good. So…silver linings.
My marriage disintegrated after I ended up in a hot tub with two men, neither of which were my husband. Makes me look pretty bad huh? Maybe. I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember shit from that night. I will tell you my husband was there the whole time and even brought me the alcohol. So…fill in your own blanks.
Truth is my marriage ended ages before I just didn’t want to make my child a statistic. I fail at faking emotions though and….it just didn’t work. So now all sorts of things I never thought would happen are happening. It’s not all roses, but its definitely the fire and brimstone I thought would follow me by breaking my oath to stay with him forever.
So tomorrow I’m introducing my soon to be teenager to my 68 year old boyfriend. Oh dear goddess what am I doing? Am I weird? The answer is a resounding YES. I can also honestly say I am happy. I think it’s going to be OK, but it is definitely something I never in a million years thought would happen. My parents are still married…as far as I know. I have no clue what it’s like introducing your kid to a new guy. Especially in our situation. Good things about the age difference? He’s not going to want be a father figure. I don’t have to worry about that. She needs to be respectful, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.
A part of me has been dreading this, but I’m kind of looking forward to it now. I get to put my two favorite people in the same place. And the weird? Well that’s just par for the course.
“To trudge: the slow, weary depressing yet determine walk of a man who has nothing left in life except the impulse to simply soldier on.”
That’s me…tonight….with this stupid writing project.
“There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” -Hemmingway
That’s all wrong. First…Hemingway did not say it (that I can actually find….someone named Red Smith might have) and second…no…no…it’s not fucking easy at all. Some days I look at the white space with its flashing cursor and the damn story or poem is actually written for me. Other (most) days I look at that same space and the little blinking line just sits there mocking me like the smug little shit it is. I could decide to write 365 days a year on how I love to write but I can’t, and then suddenly I would be able to write about that either.
The problem with the opening a vein routine, for me at least, is that I don’t want to fucking hear about it. It’s all daddy issues and fuck my childhood bullshit. And if I don’t want to hear about it than you certainly don’t want to hear about it. Well…you might want to hear about my daddy issues. Not the ones that happened when I was kid…no fuck that. I mean the aftermath. I’m dating a guy 30 years my senior who fucking rocks my world. Not sure if this is daddy issues or just a girl…standing in front of guy….waiting for him to beat her in the fun way because he’s fucking amazing at it. Heh heh.
Ok…I wrote. Fuck all this shit. Diablo 3. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have a little more to write about.
I’m playing a crusader. I had a cool post about but internet crashed. So…crusaders cool, even though I prefer ranged magic, because the wizard is a self absorbed twat. And doing the same thing every time sucks. Have a nice night.
I remember a little way into my first year at college in 1996 I wanted to go home so I pack my shit up and I went. I want to now so bad today, but there isn’t one to go to. I don’t think there was back then either, but at least I didn’t have to worry about bills and grades. Life as a teen wasn’t so bad, but there was always an underlying dark yuck that followed me everywhere I was. Seems it still follows me. Everything is an almost…well almost everything. What do I have now?
- A wonderful healthy daughter
- A full belly
- A full tank of gas
- Rent will be paid next month at least
- A Car I love
- A man I love even if I haven’t told him that full out yet
- Friends that I love and love me
Life is good even if it isn’t perfect. One thing someone with a rough past can almost always say is that things have been worse. And if you are sitting where I’m sitting now you can say they tend to get better.
Home isn’t where the heart is or where you fall back to when you have no place to left fall. It may be for some people, and I guess home is something a little different for everyone, but for me home is where you make it. Just some days it’s a little harder to make than others, but that’s why I’m the Battle Raven.
A few years ago I was standing at a reunion of a family that was mostly not mine. I wore capris jeans with frayed holes in them and became the subject of conversation with a preacher. The standard joke: “I just threw away a pair of jeans like that. Should have had you pay me a hundred bucks for them.” He also asked me why I would want to scar my body in reference to my tattoo. I tried to tell him they were free, but he was far to amused with himself. Honestly it should matter. Petty shit like that from “Christians” made me give up on being spiritually awakened.
At one point I decided I rocked those goddamn jeans and I’d rather be sexually awakened then whatever the fuck they thought they were. These days though I just want to….be. If someone wanted to comment on my jeans (still have them) I wouldn’t care. I honestly don’t understand why they would. It’s just clothing. Here…let me take it off if that helps ::evil grin::
When you are comfortable with who and what you are the “slings and arrows” of society stop bothering you. You don’t get pissed because someone attacks your beliefs or style. You certainly don’t get pissed if someone believes differently than you…even if it’s really fucked up. Difference becomes interesting.
This, I feel, is awake.