There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts broken by love,
but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream - whatever that dream might be.
Pearl S. Buck

Wednesday, July 30

When you listen


Are you listening objectively or subjectively? And when you speak, is it to tell someone something or hear yourself speak? What is it I am doing? This kept me up for a little while last night, after I soothed my son who had awoken from a nightmare.

I started getting melancholy about someone that I used to talk to online (hi brad). Now online is the worst kind of communication because it doesn't hold all the nuance of real connection. It can come very close, but still. Example... Someone else I have talked to online finally got up the nerve to call me. He said, "You sound completely different than what I expected from speaking to you online." Well DUH! sheesh. I keep having faith people will reach a clearer point of enlightenment as a collective, but its damn frustrating when there is so much technology to hide behind. Oh well.

Rollin with the earth here in so-Cal. And all is well. I am speaking from my true self.

Monday, July 28

Maybe I should quit.



But, its debatable. :giggles:

happy freakin monday people. is it happy hour yet?

Thursday, July 24

The Gift of Life

We are all gifted with our lives. That is my belief. Life is a gift that you have been given and YOU choose what to do with it. Remember that word. CHOOSE.

I have preached this sermon before. This line of thinking came to me while I was still a young girl, but really struck home in my first logic class in college. The teacher was giving us a formula for logical progression, if this is true and this is true then the out come is this. Don't remember what the formula is named. A "privileged" young man in my class was trying to debunk the theory with his example, "attending college". He was being a smart ass, saying, my parents made me come to school. I got upset that he was wasting my time with his drivel. It was time to speak up. I mentioned to him the reality of his lazy words, then said, "The real truth is every thing you do in life requires a choice of some kind. Even conscious breathing. You could have chosen not to listen to your parents. And chosen something else." We continued on this vein of conversation, and the young man NEVER got the point of my words. He wasn't ready to give up on the "victim" role just yet. We all have our little dramas going on in life that allow us to not be connected to ourselves or a part of a whole. Victims, drama queens, super-hero's, over achievers, blamers, florence nightengales, etc.

I decided to write about this today when I came across the blog of a mentor/friend of my mothers. She is a woman I have met quite a few times and counseled with. Her name is Ann McMaster. She is a person that lives her life uncovering her truths and assists others in rediscovering theirs. This is a very note worthy undertaking and I feel honored to have been a part of her teachings and counseling. Her blog entry rekindled in me the ability to make choices we each have. And how important they are.

I met her through a program that I have been involved off and on with called More To Life. This is not just a self help awareness training. Its a way to find peace and a better life. I don't subscribe to any one theory of living. I choose to find the paths that work for me and try to stay on them. My choices lean towards self degradation, as I have very low self esteem. This program awakened me to that shortcoming. Or should I say it helped me discover how seriously deep the "unworthy" complex ran in my own personae. It also gave me the tools to help fight it off when it reared its ugly head every single second of my day. It helped me become less reactionary, more positive and more aware.

I HIGHLY recommend this seminar to anyone that I know friend or foe. I realize not everyone can handle the raw truth of their life. People all deal with things in a different way. But think about this, while making these choices we all have, wouldn't it be gracious if you could connect from the pure point of now as opposed to drawing on experiences the past or worrying about the future? Its a very free feeling knowing that you are comfortable with whatever is happening inside you and trusting the universe to work with you at any given moment. This program helped me be able to look people in the eye with confidence, knowing I was ok. Even more than Ok. I was me. And that being me was pretty great and worthy.

Sighs. As all things in life, ups and downs are a given. Especially with the way the economy is going and the current world affairs. But, learning how to deal with issues in a proactive method that is the ultimate challenge for me. I challenge you to do the same. Discover yourself and what your mind tells you is true and what the REAL truth is. The mind is a tricky piece of meat that you can outwit if you don't listen to what YOU programmed into it.

The gift of life has come to me in the form of a small guy who is smart and has a lot of really cool questions to ask me. I want to be able to have some really cool answers to give him. And smile while we both learn. every, single, minute.

Choose your LIFE! There are still people in this world who care about you even if they don't know who you are. Because who you are is important. We are all connected.

Tuesday, July 22

me soño por lo tanto estoy.


For those of you non spanish speakers, go to babblefish. I should start every morning with an hour at the keyboard documenting my dreams. This stuff is what David Lynch uses for his stories. I promise you.

Sunday night was a dooozie! I can only remember bits and pieces now. One if them being I lived in a very large white house with a windowed porch. As I walked past one of the window panes, the glass was missing and Steve Earle's face was sticking through the pane. He was howling at me like something from a William Faulkner novel. Followed by some pretty wild makin out. I remember showing someone around my house, and opening all kinds of windows letting the light in. And offering a new man to stay in the back bedroom I was renting out.

Then I was at a Victorian Motel that I ran with someone. I was in the room with this writer that was trying to seduce me. He was wearing a red velvet robe, kinda like Hugh Hefneresque. He was giving another woman and I some kind of rose flavored delicacy licquor that tasted awesome. She was laying on a chaise lounge in a floral robe that was slightly open. Her boobs looked like she just had surgery on them because you could see the blue stitches sticking out from beside her nipples. Freaky. She was saying something to me about her husband leaving her and now it didn't matter. I remember filling up my drink glass, and walking down the stairs quickly thinking I didn't want to get involved with those two. Then I was in the car with some friends on our way to a party at the beach. They all had something to drink with them and I decided that I wanted a bottle of wine. Stop at that liquor store I said, we pulled in.

It was some kind of middle eastern place with brass plates and rugs. When we went in, it turned from a liquor store to more of a restaurant/hash house. There were people wandering around everywhere. There was a kitchen where they were preparing food. I could smell it. There was one room I walked in that reminded me of a haunted house I visited as a child. Stark white with some silhouetted stark arrangement in the corner. Sometimes that feeling, when a room is full of nothing, can be intimidating to me.

The following room I walked into there was a woman in white and graying sari, she was in her 80's I would guess. She had long silver scraggly hair. She started to profess to me about life. When she finally looked at me, she had lizard eyes, yellow opalescent with slits in them. I felt so at peace with her, as in I thought she needed me for some reason thats why she was seeking me out. She said, you have suffered for a long time. Its been a long long time for you. I said, Can i help you with something? She said, its not quite over but not much longer. I offered to help her to a seat. And left her with the friends she had there. I wandered back through some rooms with various themes that were part Indian, part Middle eastern. And lots of people, wind chimes and drinks.

After that, we are back at the beach with friends we are waiting for fireworks. Its night time and dark out. The moon is amazingly full. I mean it was HUGE and sitting right on the water. I remember thinking is it going to set completely? I don't want it to go away. Very surreal. The water was rough, but dark and inviting but I didn't get in. Instead we sat and watched the water, then headed home on foot down the boulevard.

Now.... Monday night. I don't remember how it started. Or if this is the exact way it started. The main them of the movie was me downtown somewhere with a friend hanging out. We were near a water park and decide to go there. We were in the swimming pool. There were people in the hot tub. Somebody kept throwing a boat in the hot tub. I was confused about that so I went over there and said to my friend, lets get this boat out into the big pool. She kept saying NO.. I said fine! Anyone else want to go? No response, so I jumped into the boat. Then a young man jumped in with me. He was sitting behind me. It was kind of strange since I didn't know him,I went with it. the boat went up a ramp. Then down a ramp, the up and down these conveyor belts, then drop you like at the water park~ We were having a great time. But he was really quiet. Then the young mans father came up and said, I need to talk to you. We parted ways, I got an uncomfortable feeling. I went back to check on the boy and found him dead. I knew that his father had something to do with it. He was going to try and frame me for the incident. I realized no one had found out what was going on just yet so I hid. I remembered the boy and I had left our cell phones somewhere. Then as everyone was distracted by the body, I snuck back and got both our cell phones and some other recording devices I found that the father planted and was planning to use to set me up. I wrapped them up in a bandanna and took off without any clothes on. Just my bathing suit. At the moment I was coming out of the building the "father" shows up and sees me carrying the bundle... I run out into the streets. And lose him in the city traffic. I end up at a close by eating hole that is full of pirates!~ (I think that came from seeing pictures of Pirate Days Ventura Harbor last weekend.) I sat down, ordered a coffee, and proceeded to check out what I had collected. Then I woke up.

Steve Earle was my bad a*s Faulknerian lover. Sounds like a great song huh? Funny it was like we had always known each other and always comfortable with each other. But the shortest part of the whole dream. Ha! whew! I typed this fast and furiously to get it out of my head while I can remember it. Do you guys dream like this? Or am I the "lucky one"?

Monday, July 14

you know its true.


My son has told me that I am beautiful every day in the last week. So it has to be true doesn't it?

yea. I am beautiful.

me without makeup. :wink:

Wednesday, July 9

Nomad No More


Last night when I was talking to a friend. I looked up and saw something I had been looking for all week long. The laundry room coin purse. I squealed. She said,"Whats your problem?"

"I found something I have been looking for all week long!!! Now I can do some laundry."

Then the conversation continued, but at that peak moment a thought crossed my mind. Its probably not the one you are thinking. What crossed my mind was, I have been in transition mode for most of my life. Moving. Moving. Moving. No wonder I can't find anything, I am always living out of boxes. In limbo. Only keeping out what I need at the moment. Lets examine my nomadic transitions.

My first move happened when I was an infant. I grew up in my big two story house on Hartwegg Ave. in Ft. Thomas KY. I have been told that we moved twice before my move to this house, but I don't consciously remember it. Then, when I was 13, in 1972, we moved to Texas. And that was major league devastating, even though I was unaware of it at the time. From the white cultural mecca of Cincinnati OH, to a tiny town between Houston and Huntsville where there was still unspoken segregation, and LOTS of trucks. Yea. This move was the first of many. I don't think outside of living with my parents I have ever lived in one place for more than two years. Yikes. Can you imagine? Lets fact-ualize this.

This thought process started yesterday afternoon when I was looking up someones address/phone number online. It occurred to me to look up my own. What is online about me? I finally got to the page with my information and there it was. I had six documented addresses in Dallas. But, I would say in the 15 years I lived there, I had 10 different addresses (apartments/warehouse/house). They didn't document where I lived before Dallas, which was Houston. I had 7 different abodes in a 10 year period in humidity roach infested h*ll-town. Before that was college. I lived in the dorm, then university apt (a great tequila story from that time), then to a house with some girlfriends, to another cooler house with some gay friends. Four moves in a three year period. Man, no wonder I feel confused and lost a lot of the time. I am not used to having a place where I can feel settled and focused. Yet.

This started another process of thinking about all the things I have lost or sold over my life. Paintings I have done. Furniture that I should have held onto. Things that have moved on to others lives that I miss, but not much really. The transitions changed me for the better in a lot of ways. I am not so attached to "things". I don't feel the need to have them around me. I am actually more comfortable without them. I prefer to not have a lot cluttering up my living space. I have a kid now and the whole process begins again. Gathering, collecting, storing and having things that you like to have around you.

Now I want to settle. Picturing my future. In my perfect home life scenario? One big comfy bed, one table big enough for eating, reading, drawing and working. Two comfy chairs with foot rests. And a big huge full amenity bathroom with BIG fluffy towels. Big closet with cubbies and storage. Swimming Pool. And a washer/dryer. And a green house. And a cottage big enough for my parents out back. I don't want a lot of furniture. I would like my home to be more like a gallery. With my paintings on all the walls.

So. In light of this, I realize that maybe the nomadic portion of my life is at an end. FINALLY. I am sick of moving. Time to rethink my desires for the future. How can I come up with my perfect home? What steps do I take to make that happen? I feel the need to nest and settle. I have found a spot that makes me feel like an adult. Weird.. REALLY weird feeling for me.

So is there an olympic sport for how to purge and pack for moving? Cuz I am SO on that! Let the games begin! Watch out BEJING!!!

_______________________________________

I am diggin' on IMEEM. So please if this is pissing you off? Let me know. This song fits for todays post.


The Story - Brandi Carlile

Monday, July 7

Gap Fire, War, Stabbing and Whistles.



Maybe some of you are familiar with the Gap Fire. A good friend of mine made the joke, is the Banana Republic next? I just don't know. Around the country people make the joke about earthquakes and California, but the truth is, you are more likely to be threatened by fires. I don't have news at home, except on the internet. We have had power outages every day due to the smoke and ash grounding out our power grid. Thats really minor though considering what COULD happen. Fingers crossed it stays away from the homes close. Evacuees are all over town. My son, the sweet one, says, mommy what is going to happen to the animals? I said, they will be safe. We are fortunate in a lot of ways.

Fourth of July someone lost a child due to a stabbing in the middle of the fireworks show. I moved here two years ago and this is the second stabbing/shooting that is gang related in this town. I know that I am fortunate to live in such a peaceful community. But even then when you hear about these things you realize there is going to become a more heated local battlefield.

I could use this event as a metaphor to pontificate about the useless and meaninglessness of war and its effect on our country. So many people bury their head in the ground about the REAL repercussions of a meaningless war. When humans are put at odds with their beliefs things become unbalanced. Economies, societal behaviors, inter-family connections, ie: distancing. I have a lot of theories and parallels, maybe not factually based, but sociologically based that run around in my head. But basically? War = Waste. Sure, I can hear the responses now, "But what about the (your favorite enemy here) threat!?", "Doesn't it stimulate the economy?" I ask, Are we really threatened? What is our government telling us? Is it the truth? What actually is the truth? Thats what we need to ponder. Not whether or not someone is on our TURF! Damn. I sound like a woman don't I? Awesome.

Now with all that said, and not nearly enough, I am going to leave you with this happy little tune that is relaxing my brain today. TY John Prine.




I been thinking lately about the people I meet
The carwash on the corner and the hole in the street
The way my ankles hurt with shoes on my feet
And I'm wondering if I'm gonna see tomorrow.

Father forgive us for what we must do
You forgive us we'll forgive you
We'll forgive each other till we both turn blue
Then we'll whistle and go fishing in heaven.

I was in the army but I never dug a trench
I used to bust my knuckles on a monkey wrench
Then I'd go to town and drink and give the girls a pinch
But I don't think they ever even noticed me.

Fish and whistle, whistle and fish
Eat everything that they put on your dish
And when we get through we'll make a big wish
That we never have to do this again again

On my very first job I said thank you and please
They made me scrub a parking lot down on my knees
Then I got fired for being scared of bees
And they only give me fifty cents an hour.

Wednesday, July 2

Randomated.


Sorry that I have been slacking. To date this week?

My Space Has sucked my brain out of my head... :giggles: Its a vast ocean, of people and musicians. You can hear all kinds of music there. NEW music, without purchasing it (which any poverty stricken gas buying consumer knows is the last on the list when you need food n stuff) and I feel back in touch. And finding new music. Flirting a little too. That doesn't hurt.

Has anyone else gotten into Imeem? Made your playlists? Uploaded songs? Looked for songs that you can hear online? I have a renewed interest in music. wopeeeee!!!!!!

I watched No Country for Old Men. I was really pissed when the good guy died. And the main character will always be psycho for me no matter what role he plays. May have changed his career forever. I should watch it again, but I sent it back to Netflix.

There are fires close to my job. People I work with live close to this fire. I am worried for peoples safety.

My son is in Day Camp. He comes home everyday wanting to still be outside, and falls asleep around 8 pm! Thank you almighty FSM for the extra hours of parent time in the evening. I bless George who heads up this camp. Poor thing. When i walked in the other day all the kids were whining about something! i mean its a serious whine-fest in a group of five year olds. I said, do they whine all day LONG? He rolled his eyes and said OH yea. This is mild. I bet he wants to change his name, like I want to change mine from mommy sometimes.

I spend some of that free time reflecting on what I really want from my life here. What do I need to do next to keep moving forward. I need some studio space or a corner of my house to put up an easel and paint. ("manifests positive thoughts of creating her next level".)

What the heck am I going to get my dad for his birthday? sighs.

What the heck am I going to do on the fourth of july? thinks about food and fireworks.

Back sooner than last time.