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If love and peace are so strong...
December 2007
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Tue, Dec. 18th, 2007 09:21 am

Ah, the time has come, the walrus said, to speak of many things
Of ships and (__?___) and ceiling wax
Of cabbages and kings.

It took some help from Lodi and some memory jogging of my own to remember my password, but here I am.
And oh, how life has changed.

Vaughn Wolfgang made it safely into the world at 8 pounds 1 ounce and now four months later, is a whopping 17 pounds!
It's unbelievable; his evolution; breathtaking. He's a big round ham. We love him.

In other news, I've started school. Yay me! It's almost the end of the first term, but so far, so good I think.
Dad's been tremendous in taking care of Baby in the mornings; it's just transitioned so smoothly.

Of course, we're poor as usual, but we're getting by just fine. After all, we're not in a cardboard box yet!

I have to admit, I missed the catharsis of blogging. I missed the feeling that someone, somewhere, even if it is only you, Lodi, was reading my posts.

I'm supposed to be writing a psych paper right now. I did skip my math class to do it, but this seems a little more important... right now.

It seems like so much has changed, but when it's put into words, not so much.

I had a baby, but I guess that was prefaced by boy sex and pregnancy.
...I don't even remember my last post. (Note to self: check out past posts when done writing current post)

Sexuality is fluid.... even if it's just transitioning from one (same sex) partner to the next. You fall in and out of love, you fall in and out of attraction. I just realized I liked men a little more than I previously thought or accepted of myself. While it makes me less of a lesbian (duh!) it doesn't make me less queer. It doesn't take away my knowledge of heterosexism, homophobia, and the injustices that transpire through those widely accepted patterns of thought.
My partner, Kurt, is incredibly enlightened and not judgmental about who I am or what my past entails. He helped raise his lesbian best friend's two children without even a second thought... not even a first thought! He's just an amazing human being, not to mention a supportive, loving partner, and an awesome dad!
(I've never been in such a low conflict relationship, either)

Pregnancy sucked. I hated every second of it and mine was easy! No morning sickness, no swollen ankles, no high blood pressure... just some weight gain, which I think might have caused the hatred. (I lost a lot the year before.... two steps forward, one step back) Oh well, though, now I have a beautiful baby boy for the effort, right?

Now I'm not necessarily in to procreation. We're over populated as it is, but as Kurt puts it, every two people get to have one baby. It leads to a negative population growth. Two people make one baby, two parents die, one person is left. Minus one. See?
It took me a second to really understand.

Ahh... I've gone on much too long and now I've only twenty minutes to try to research False Memory Syndrome and get to my sociology class. Horrah!

Current Location: Computer Lab
Current Mood: bouncy bouncy
Current Music: some one is listening to a late night show on the next computer... distracting!

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Sat, Jan. 21st, 2006 03:52 pm

Okay... another update... and then I'm typing up a mass of poetry... that should be available somewhere... for someone's prying eyes.
Although, truth be told, I'd much rather read it... to anyone.

Mmmm... I lied... We're going straight for the poetry.
First let me say... No one judge me. Please. You know who you are.

Beware... typos... i don't feel like fixing it yet... I will though... I will. Now hush.


i dream in colors
of myslef
multi dimensional
and textured
i dream of myself
in a different place or time
with confusion and excitement
a fuel to the fire
in my belly
the burning passion
in my heart
the words that echo there-
in that hollow place
inside me
those words that rattle around
begging for escape
a broken bird with clipped wings
i am trapped here
looking for my neon lights
this way out
lit up like life



within myself
i am cold
cored out
where did it go?
eased out over the years
to make room for a girl-
one that is not me
i barely recogniz her
skin soft
lips supple
begging
always begging
for the touch
skin on skin
lips to teeth and tongue
in tow
i dream in colors
baptized in regret
fading out in prism form
there are so many things
i want to change
the curve of my hips
of my breasts
and the rest is shadowed in fear
this won't be love
it won't be loved
the word seems senseless now
something i can wrap my mouth around
but not my hand
not my brain
i dream in colors and floral scents
a lavender embalmed girl
draped with insecurities
they were unable to provide
the only obligation of their contract
21 years passed and i'm still
looking for the missing
peace
pieces
shards
time has made them smaller
and scattered
and even more sacred
if i shed my skin
to show that soft center
what will you do?
i have never given this part of myself
it has never been an option
a need
an intense heated desire
if i could
i would split myself open
and allow you to crawl inside
free range
free reign
this beating heart
this flowing blood
this scattered brain
would you help me then?
ease the pain
fill in the voids
file and cross reference
memories and emotions
thus felt
my tongue is liquid
my mouth a vessel
i release more on paper
less vocalized
between thought and tongue
i am lost in translation
even now i am crytic
hiding and
always veiled
break me down
i'm begging




and she felt release
the grip round her heart
relieved
a breath then
between the calm
and the clench
that is all there is time for
this space is broken and sharp
edges ragged
do we like the impurities and soiled skin?
the scent of sin on our lips?
we lick like hungry pups
with no teet
from which to nurse
the sweat from forehead
to hollowed back
you touch me and i squirm
anxious for the next step
where will the hand go?
the lips?
the curve of your neck
in the dimmed light
foreshadowed
with the regret of seduction
as we sat there
side by side
knowing what would happen
but not wanting to name it
once said is impossible to take back
reach into me
a hand wrapped round my soul
a finger on the button
filled up
feel up
the valleys of my body
waiting for the nourishment
of your palms
like praying
like a prayer
you get me close to living
life wrapped around me in the death of winter
a velvet clock that suffocateds me
in the hot breath of summer
it's coming back again
the press, the pinch, the ache
my breath in caught
near my heart
this is what i am



i am nameless here
between space and time
almost lifeless - limp
there is a moment
a muslin curtain,
between sleeping and awake
this is where i live
and am afraid
there is time now
an emptiness or void
where reality seems more
tangible than ever before
and her appetite is insatiable
i am pulled into you by fear
i dream of a fiery passion
that might not exists
the many colors
the silken lines
our only wings
cut off at the bones
you can see their silhouette
in the light
just there
maybe newness is all i want
listening to the body
to the heart
learning the morse code
you signal without knowing


i imagine your bones
are cool white razors
trapped beneath your
(soft) flesh
(thin) skin

from the curve of my lips
to the curve of my hips
i want you
your hands
flat palms
in prayer with flesh




my body is a canvas

blank

what will you put here?
what will you draw?



i dreamt of you
in black silk
draped like a reaper
come for my soul
a hand wrapped round my heart
does it cut you too?
feel the blood drip
if i were a color
i would be a deep red
swirling in and out of vision
you are hot hot colors
if i close my eyes
imagine you dressed up
in words
you would be a blur
my art in motion




the stroke of a brush
on canvas
wet paint
streaking across
a lonely ski
i am jealous
this is my canvas
my sad lines
sweet and melodramatic
i can create something here
but can i make you feel:
the silkiness of my lips
wetness of my tongue
or warmth of my mouth
can i make you see the heaviness of your own heart
the anatomical picture
not pretty and too real
i see it weighs you down
and i always knew you were hidden
aren't we all?
veiled with regret
or fear
or something bigger
close your eyes and imagine
how wide it all is
infinite
like time
neverending
like my need to touch
or be held
am i the only one?
or the only one to admit it?
is your heart sinking now?
timbling into your belly
being catapulted into your throat
a fist hard and tight
how do you breathe through it?
just smile through it?
none of us are as unique, lonely, or tortured as we imagine ourselves to be...



this poet's soul
is loose
and worn round the shoulders
like a mink pelt
finally subdued
brutally murdered
in the darkest night

i'm still afraid of the dark

alone with my thoughts and fears
i get lost in it


imagine
this
world
no
longer
a
lonely
place
to
live





What is the number of divinity?
The color of pride?
The smell
and
The touch
Use your senses
to know me
Open me up
and force it
feel it
I am drawn to you
and embarrassed by it
I want to think
we are different,
but something tell me
I'm wrong
and there is this small voice
inside of me
screaming
TRUST HIM
TRUST HIM
but I am locked down
A prisoner to own anti-trust
and I don't know why
and maybe it's just a need
I'm so tired of giving
and getting nothing
in
return.
I am caught in the cycle
of not saying NO
and then wondering why their eyes
turn on me
It is a need I have
to be close
to feel safety
in someone's arms
but men don't function
on the level
and I end up giving
away more myself than
I ever intended
And how does it end?
With no beginning
it doesn't...




(Inspired by the Sufis of Islam)

I am inspired by
your mystics,
but not to write.
I am inspired
to love
to love Him
To let him fill me up
My Soul
so that I need no others
But I weak
and human
and of course
I need you
I need your arms
and your warmth
and your laughter in my ear
and your breath on my neck
and the intensity
of our love
and passion
and He gives me this permission
and He knows
loving is loving
and as I love you
I love Him
and there is greatness
in that
and understanding
I am not weak for
loving and needing
Weakness is not knowing how
or refusing that nourishment





there is a shade of gray in my dreams
to call it gray would be a lie
a color unnamed and unhidden
so much so is to be shameless



a hand is
only so
strong as its holder
and by the looks of yours
i want to be held



A curve of attraction.
What is it?
Just there-
at the neck
at the hip
at the hollow of the back
Where whispers are lost
and found again-
Where lovers are dreamers
and in a moment
we become on
passion filled
and hungry for something
that for now--
in this hazy space of impossibility
between sleeping and awake-
is a home
a warm bed
and warm arms
to be wrapped in
to be safe if only for
a second
a minute
the space on a kiss
the prayer of lips
of tongues
This is where I live
and will be remembered...
If only by you.



Your whispers foretold
my future
pained
painted
across my palm
flat and fitted
into yours
faulted and flawed
are we no all humans?
Why then would I be ashamed--
in the night
we are all
creatures
of beauty and desire.



and I want to be worshipped
down to my bones--
this flesh
precious and sweet
silken
and
smooth



The lines are always
blurred for me.
Knowing
what you want
is the hardest
thing to define.
These days
I feel more connected
to my bones than ever before.
I feel a peace in me-
even a mild happiness
resting quietly beneath that
sadness
that makes me
drive for hours
with no destination.
There is a beauty in me
I want them
to see--
Beyond my green eyes
beyond my round mouth
beyond the curve of my breasts
and the softness of my skin.
There is an intensity-
Look at my long enough
and you'll feel the heat.
You'll see what I've known
all my life.




You don't understand it-
nor do I
My need for the switch
The final epiphany
The aria of my opera
Who knew it would lead to this?
A part of me is embarrassed
As I was so sure
...but so young
and we all know about that.
So excuse me-
and love me despite this.



Just crush me now-
forget the sincerity-
forget promises
of rollercoasters
Men and promises don't mix well, anyway.
I covet what I cannot have-
He made it so.
Was it a punishment?
He is the father-
my father?
There is confusion now.
What lines crossed between
genetic material
and
religious disposition?
Does it happen to us all-
Oh, Father
His son
Our holy ghost-
I have no brothers-
lost between the womb
and the curse
He hates us all for it-
ripped us down to out bones
and said we were never worthy.
I was scared
of it
of him
of my own validity.
You have cursed me-
my mouth-
swollen and sore.
This is how you want me-
on my knees
on my back
Tell you you're the best-
it's true
I swear
I'll come for the truth-
Just tell me that's what
you want me for
and I'll leave your bed
wet and without sleep.


I should try to impress you
with my strength
All that I made it through
and here I am
Almost whole
I have intensity-
You can't handle it-
But they all want to see it-
Pandora's box-
her ink spilled
carelessly over pages
the endless mechanical
workings of her mind-
watch the wheels spin
they leave tracers in the dark.
I promise you'll fear it-
the inability
to contain me.
This is why I have to stay in control.
A watchdog to my soul.
Can't someone else take over?
For a bit-
I'd like to relinquish
my obligations to
keep her under lock and key
I often refer to myself
in the third person-
this is why;
I want so badly to let someone in.
But I'm afraid of their reactions.
I'm scared of my own.
I want to take risks,
but I don't know how.
I'm safeguarded...
I can't let go...
like being afraid of the dark.
What would happen if I turned out the light?




How much is it worth?
That moment you realize
you were set up to fail?



Your words
pull at my heart strings
I am nothing-
a marionette
trying in vain to maintain my strength.


Ugh.... I could puke now... I started picking and choosing there at the end. But it's something right?

Current Mood: bouncy bouncy
Current Music: Belly Dancing music courtesy D'Emilia

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Sat, Jan. 21st, 2006 03:52 pm

You scored as Journalism. You are an aspiring journalist, and you should major in journalism! Like me, you are passionate about writing and expressing yourself, and you want the world to understand your beliefs through writing.

</td>

English

100%

Journalism

100%

Linguistics

75%

Dance

75%

Psychology

67%

Theater

58%

Philosophy

50%

Mathematics

42%

Anthropology

42%

Art

42%

Sociology

33%

Engineering

25%

Chemistry

25%

Biology

17%

What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3)
created with QuizFarm.com

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Tue, Dec. 13th, 2005 02:19 am
Handwriting Analysis

What does your handwriting say about YOU?


well... it was supposed to say... stuff... that sucks.

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Tue, Dec. 13th, 2005 01:11 am

So... Today was a most excellent day. What did I do you say? Well lots. You could say that my day began with yesterday. I worked. It was lovely. Then after work I spent 3 hours decorating work with holiday wonderfulness. A bit... annoying, but also lovely. Then I called Emilia. It's extremely bad news when Emilia and I hang out late at night because we keep each other up for an unreasonable amount of time.
I met Emilia at Sitwell's where we laughed and smoked and kept her boyfriend, Alaa, from doing his verrry important work. Then we gave a crazy drunk woman from Ft. Lauderdale a ride to her hotel. Then Alaa and Emilia went their separate ways and off we went to The Anchor. The Anchor is a 24 hour hole in the wall unlike anything you've ever seen. Or maybe you have. Who am I to say? We were there until 6 o'clock in the morning.
"Shoo... you don't know me! I'm still gonna have a baby!"
Then we came home (to Emilia's) and went to bed. At 12:30 we arose to the sound of the sweet song of lively birds. Emilia asked why they sang. We concluded that all creatures do this. (lest those nocturnals) Humans... sleep at night and then rise in the morning to song. Or speech, call it what you will -- I'd like to think of the whole world singing to each other. There's some beauty in that.
We were moving... sloooooowly. So slowly in fact, that after spending a couple hours online, a couple hours chatting, smoking, and laughing, a couple hours making christmas lists, we were still almost incapable of motivating ourselves to take a shower. (by the way, i'm totally exaggerating on the time span here... it was probably a combined 2 hours) After showers, after preening and primping, we decide to have lunch. Or do we?
Emilia finds herself on the computer, chatting it up with her reversed personality, Rami. Emilia = Swedish Finn in America with lots of Arab friends. Rami = Arab man in Sweden. We chatted with him for about 3 hours. It's so exciting to meet new people. That newness... is refreshing, especially when they're excellent conversationalists who give you quasi-concerts via webcam and internet audio. Lovely.
Then... and this is the most exciting part of my evening -- I WENT ICE SKATING!!!! For the first time ever. The greatest accomplishment? Only falling on my booty 3 times! The third time, of course, being the most painful. My feet flew out from beneath and I was suspended in mid-air for a nano-second before crashing and I mean crashing onto the cold, wet ice. It was amazing. And then we went out for dinner for 3 hours. Great conversation that compensates for not so great food.
This day is battling it out for "Best Day of My Life."



Other thoughts...

There are so many things going through my head. So many thoughts. I feel like just right now... in this moment I'm finally ready to digest and absorb and process all this information... all these new ideas... situations... opportunities. Finally ready to accept that I'm starting to feel happy about my life. That this is what I wanted. That I did, indeed, make a good decision. That I decided to stop making decisions to benefit others and FINALLY made one to benefit myself.

It's my own stuff... all on me. The old, "It's me, not you" line... is so appropriate here. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you... or not wanting to talk to you all the time... I'm sorry for not needing you. I'm sorry for not wanting the life I had with you anymore... right now. I'm sorry for not demanding that you wait for me. I'm sorry that I'm questioning things I was so sure about... I'm sorry that I'm not telling you that I'm almost positive those things... are no longer accurate. I'm just sorry. Mostly... for not knowing how to tell you. Except here... in this most fucked up way.

Learning to live my life is probably the hardest thing I've learned to do. Of course, I have to be a hard-headed little brat, so all of my lessons are learned the hardest way possible. I am exploring these new regions of myself. Like uncharted land, beautiful and untamed, unafraid, shameless. I like this person. She is still making her way here... setting up achievable goals and striving to reach them. I am looking at myself and saying... "Yes, I'm beautiful." Believing that. Not needing someone else to tell me. Not needing to be something I'm not or can't be or really don't want to be. Knowing that I only need to please myself and everything else will fall into place. People either like you or not. You can't compromise your own personality to make room for their inequities. You can't sacrifice yourself to that side of you that needs, needs, needs -- all you need is right there in your hands.
There is so much beauty in the world. We need only to open our eyes to it -- our hearts. To be molded by the beauty of nature, of human nature... of everything... even the bad things. There's a dance we're all doing here. One perfectly choreographed and set up before we can even breathe air. We were only fresh ideas in our mother's wombs. All warm and wet. And safe. The opportunity cost here is to do this dance we must give up that safety and sanctity. We must sometimes get wet and be cold. We must learn that our minds are havens... are temples. Our bodies palaces. Our souls... the greatest gift we are given. The rhythm of life beats through us all... It is our heart beat... our breath... our patterns of movement and speech. This dance is learned and changed... and learned again. And we love it... secretly... we all love dancing.
Reaching out is the most beautiful thing I can do. I reach out to everyone. A smile, a glance, and touch... reaching out for connections... for the hope that some day... some where... some one... will understand you. Then again... there's something great about being misunderstood. About being able to explain to someone the pain in your chest... to have them explain a pain elsewhere. One you've never known. To be able to compare and contrast formulas and life lessons... the equation of life.

I am calm today. Calm and beautiful. Happy. Contented. Everyday I have worries, of course. But today? All of those things became obsolete. All of those things became oddly intriguing. All of those things became a part of my dance... that I'm relearning. And loving. Nothing matters now. In this span of time. It's all a dream. Colorful and bright... and full of hope. Always hope. There is no greater sorrow than losing the ability to dream... to hope.

Reflections.

Current Mood: cheerful cheerful
Current Music: the rhythm of life

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Thu, Dec. 1st, 2005 06:42 pm

Well... I've been in Cincinnati for aprox. 2 and a half weeks. What can I say? What can I see?
My fear... right in front of me. The idea of my life being something different than it has been for a long while. And what does that mean for me? More change. I've been on the run for the last two years... longer than that-- depends on when you started the clock. Of course I'm afraid -- who isn't?? Change is hard and heavy and... almost impossible to swallow. But we do it because we have to. Am I lonely? Yes. Do I miss you? Of course. We draw these lines around us... impossible to erase, impossible to see. When do we know when we've crossed them? When do we become aware that this isn't the life we wanted to live? When do we look down at our feet and become aware that this isn't who we wanted to be? And how do we learn to take responsibility for the fact that it may have messed up other people's plans? other people's lives? ugh.... being a grown up sucks ass. the end.

Current Mood: discontent discontent
Current Music: the hum of the computer. emilia flipping pages of her book

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Sun, Nov. 6th, 2005 10:25 am

But I have to.
I don't want to say too much.
I've said it all 50,000 times anyway.
Over and over.
Trying to figure out.
Right from wrong.
I've always had a problem with directions.
But something inside me - even if it hurts - tells me this is the right thing to do.
In short, I no longer have a choice.

Cincinnati... welcome me back with open arms.

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Wed, Oct. 12th, 2005 07:37 pm

 

 

Current Mood: bored bored

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Wed, Oct. 12th, 2005 07:23 pm

Your Linguistic Profile:



60% General American English

30% Dixie

10% Yankee

0% Midwestern

0% Upper Midwestern



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Wed, Oct. 12th, 2005 01:11 pm

My ears itch and I can't do anything because my nails are still wet from being painted.

I'm watching America's Next Top Model. I know, I'm a loser. I can't help it I'm addicted to this show.

I was laying awake in bed... like I normally do. There's about a space of an hour between when I feel tired enough to lay down and actually falling asleep. I think. My mind races... What is it racing? I usually end up thinking about all the bad or embarrassing things I've ever done in my life. They pop up in my head and I'm thinking, "Oh shit! I wonder how many people remember that!" But when fully awake I remember they're probably thinking of all the embarrassing stuff that happened to them to remember what I did.

This one particular incident has been haunting me the last few days and I'm not sure why. It's not like it's that bad or that embarrassing. Plus, I had an excuse. I was on drugs... and this one incident probably had a direct contribution to my quitting all that shit.

It was summer. A super hot, humid summer. In the woods. Really late at night. Blah Blah Blah...

"I have to pee!"
"Just go."
"OK..."

WHAT?! Who does that?
AND it was hours before I could go home and change.
That's yucky.

Current Mood: embarrassed embarrassed

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