Choking on Non-Attachment. Gagging on Emotion. And Vomiting it all Up. Again.

Today I almost killed a man. Seriously. And it pretty much sucked. For I am really not the type of individual who goes around almost killing people. It was not exactly a pleasant day.

Please allow me to take a moment to relay to you the incident that almost led to said killing. It was discovered that a containment device filled with personal and important items was placed in a pile of other non-important items that were recently collected by the UNNAMED CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION.

This occurred despite the fact that I very specifically and explicitly told said ALMOST BECAME DEAD INDIVIDUAL that said containment device was NOT to go to said UNNAMED CHAITABLE ORGANIZATION. This containment device was not in the room with the other said items awaiting said donation.

And I would not be writing about this incident if it were not for the fact of the actual contents of said containment device. I cannot be certain of every item in said containment device. But I know for certain that the device contained various personal identifying documents perhaps including the official certificate of my live birth and social security card. Various financial documents containing -- you guessed it -- financial information. Large quantities of writing of which no other copies exist. Photographs of my dead father. Wait. Let me be clear. This should not be interpreted as photographs of my father dead. He was most certainly alive when said photographs were taken. Now he is not. Photography prints and possibly negatives. Etc. Etc. Etc.

So it finally happened. And it is probably surprising that it did not occur prior to this moment.

I completely lost it.

There was screaming. Yelling. Door slamming. Crying. It was not pretty. I was quite concerned that the UNNAMED CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT would be knocking on my door at any moment. Fortunately for me that did not occur.

The Buddhist in me explains that this is a lesson in non-attachment. The Sicilian in me wants to tie the Buddhist to a block of concrete and throw her off a dock at midnight.

Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to have the UNNAMED CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION find said items. And it is entirely possible that I will not cause the ALMOST BECAME DEAD INDIVIDUAL who removed said bag bodily harm. But I must say that I do believe I have reached the end of my proverbial rope.

Those near and dear are painfully aware of the fact that I have been experiencing an overwhelming amount of difficult emotional experiences in the last three or so weeks. I have been rather on edge. Hanging by a thread. Ready to stick a fork in an unsuspecting eye.

I can only hope that this moment does not propel me from secret super hero to evil dictator overnight.

Pho-motional Love. Cellular Support. And Secret Beach Blanket Lingo

Sometimes in what seem to be the worst and most challenging moments I am reminded of something wonderful about human beans. As of late I have been struggling emotionally. I feel as though I should take up the black veil of mourning as my ancestors did before me. Those of you who have asked me how I am as of late have actually gotten an honest answer. Sleep has somewhat eluded me. And I have been less than my self. But last night I realized that I am so incredibly fortunate to have the most wonderful people in my life. And it is critical that I do not overlook this very important point.

And isn't that what life is really all about. Wonderful connections with people who love and care about you. People that you love and care about in return. I am far too fortunate in my life to be cynical about human beans and the human connection. And it is both miraculous and beautiful to see that some people are truly willing to walk through fire with you.

These wonderful individuals in my life that I speak of -- and you best know who you are -- have patiently permitted me to spill all of my emotions onto the floor. And following such spillage they have assisted me in picking up the broken pieces and even had enough forethought to bring a tube of emergency purpose super-ultra-omega-crazy gluish stuff. These beans have given of themselves fully and completely putting their own needs on hold for a moment and placing the focus on mine. This is truely an amazing gift that I have been given and I want to acknowledge their valiant efforts.

You amazing beans have checked on me. Forced me out of my self imposed seclusion. And made me laugh when I didn't think I had any room left for laughter. One of you even traveled over sixty miles just to take care of me for an evening and to inform me that you love me completely -- even in what I perceive to be my most unlovable moments. And sometimes when you're not feeling wonderful about your self it is essential and truly a blessing to hear such things.

So I want to take a moment to thank you dear beans who have permitted me to cry -- or almost cry -- on your collective shoulders as of late. You wonderful individuals who have politely and not so politely informed me that I am beautiful and pretty damn wonderful despite the snot running down my face. Those of you who have taken the time to let me know that you love and care about me even though your own lives are hectic and chaos filled.

I adore you and wish the best for you always. You have definitely earned a fair amount of Karma credits for your kindness and generosity.

xox.

Toss it Out and Start from Scratch

Holy fuck. You should know that just about everything in my life that could change has changed in the last two-ish weeks. It has been a tad bit overwhelming and I remain somewhat frazzled. Some of these changes are for the better. Some are sad and I know that I will be mourning losses for quite some time. But sometimes change is good. Change enables you to view your self in a new light. And I have not been very kind to myself as of late.

Those that know me know that one thing about me is constant. I talk a great deal of shit. And I do not think that this is necessarily a bad thing. But sometimes I am much better at taking care of other people or giving of myself than I am at giving to myself and doing what I need to do for me. In saying this I don't mean to imply that I am some sort of Mother Fucking Teresa. Clearly I am not. But I have this tendency to put the needs of others before my own. Because despite my tough grrrl exterior I love human beans fully and completely. And this occasionally gets me into troublesome situations that I take full and complete responsibility for regardless of circumstance.

I am not good at expressing my feelings in an honest manner. I will rarely admit that I have needs let alone tell another person what they might be. I am trying to correct this but it has been a long and difficult road. There have been many instances -- some quite recent -- in which I felt that there was much left unsaid.

After a bit of whooping cough relapse in which I coughed up a lung in my Pho this evening much to the concern of my dinner companion, I returned home and sat in front of the mirror. Well. First I engaged in a bit more Artist Pact work. Then I fucked around a bit in order to distract myself. Such distractions failed miserably. I cried for a while. And then I took a very long look at myself in a full length mirror. Naked. Because I have been feeling incredibly naked for the last few months as is probably apparent from my previous posts.

So I stood there. Sans clothing. I stood there in silence and allowed my thoughts to flow naturally. Permitting them to enter and exit as they would. I stood there for a long time. I made note of how pale my skin has become since moving to Seattle more than ten years ago. How my breasts aren't as perky as they were when I was twenty-three. I closely examined the cellulite on my upper thigh. I turned to view the scar behind my left shoulder and noticed how much it has faded since the day I received it. I glanced down at my butt -- not too bad. I looked very closely at my face. And noticed the way it has changed over the years. The deep lines in my forehead. Laugh lines that remain present even in my most serious moments. Scars that marked the change in once perfect skin. I examined the weak chin I inherited from my father and my mother's Hungarian nose that my very wise friend is so fond of.

I stood there for a very long time. And then it got fucking cold. So I turned on the super high powered space heater that resides on the floor in the corner and resumed my examination. And it wasn't so bad.

For the first time in a long time I permitted myself to be with myself without distraction. I am not perfect. And I don't think that I want to be.

It has been a long and difficult journey finding this place. And I felt saddened for the little grrrl who still exists somewhere in the maze of my mind. That little insecure grrrl who never heard a kind word from anyone. The little grrrl who had to be so tough all of the time. The little grrrl who thought she was ugly and unlovable. And I realized in this moment that I am worth more. We all are worth so much more than we permit ourselves to accept. We we continuously permit ourselves to accept less. Less in our personal lives. Less in our professional lives. Less in everything.

I can not help but wonder if we are afraid to be successful. Successful in our personal lives. Successful in our professional lives. Successful in everything. I wonder what the world would look like if we were able to see and acknowledge our own beauty. What would things look like if we took a moment to witness and acknowledge the beauty in others. How would the world be different if we gave ourselves permission not to accept less and embrace success without fear.

Someone...let me know.

Addendum to Post: I find it quite interesting how the spell check program associated with this site does not recognize the words cellulite and unlovable. Perhaps we should not recognize them either.

Random Thoughts of Personal Treason

Sitting in the dark in the. Night thinking. Replaying every moment in my. Mind again. Silently I reconsider. Every second. I could have. Said something. Said something different. Instead. Paralyzed by something seemingly viral. Completely incapable of. Unable to find the appropriate. String of syllables. Again. Quiet in the. Night. Shackled in thought. Wanting something written. On a wall I once. Saw. But words remain. Elusive. Or blurred. And I cannot find my. Anything anymore. In this silent personal. Treason. Wanting to break. Glass again. Hear the crashing sound. Shattering on pitch instead of my. Own thoughts out of. Tune. Fragmented. Wanting to digest the pieces but the. Sharp edges are. Difficult to swallow.

Tongue Tied and Tangled in Turmoil

Words are. My obsession. Among. Other things. But this post is about. Words. And not other. Things. There are a great many strings of. Words that. Strike me. I am. Often captivated by. Combinations of syllables strung. Together in an inexplicable. Manner. And it is important for me to say that. There are certain strings of. Words that are more intriguing than. Those I am about to post. But as of late. Due to a. Variety of. Difficult circumstances. Bits and pieces of my. Own experiences. These words have been particularly. On my mind.


Cinder and Smoke -- Iron and Wine

Give me your hand. The dog in the garden row. is covered in mud. And dragging your mother’s clothes. Cinder and smoke. The snake in the basement found. the juniper shade. The farmhouse is burning down.

Give me your hand. And take what you will tonight. I'll give it as fast. and high as the flame will rise. Cinder and smoke. Some whispers around the trees. The juniper bends. As if you were listening.

Give me your hand. Your mother is drunk as all. the firemen shake. a photo from father’s arms. Cinder and smoke. You’ll ask me to pray for rain. With ash in your mouth. You’ll ask it to burn again.