It took me years of fighting my own head and the beliefs that I was force fed growing up to come to terms with what I know. (Notice I am foregoing the "what I think" and going all in here.)
I know that we are not bound to just this one human suit and one trip around to either make it or break it. I know that the intuition that has always guided me is my larger self sitting somewhere directing the show. I know my larger self is my soul. The soul that has been housed in all of my earthly selves and the only part of me that remembers all of my accumulated learning. That's why when I blindly trust the voice inside me things go right and when I go against it...well, not so much.
I know that we are here to learn and progress as a soul more so than as a human. Each life time has a set of challenges and you either accomplish them and move forward or you get next round to try again. I have places that I am drawn to for no reason, but I have no real idea where I've been before or who may have been or whether or not I made a big impact. I may have been a pirate or an Indian or a Roman soldier; Or maybe I was a housewife in the 1850's with one hell of an imagination. But I know I've always been a free spirit.
I know that everyone's soul is a different age. I know that I'm an old soul. I know I have a cluster that are my soul buddies. We pass through every life and manage to touch each others lives either for a while or just a minute. Whether we hold hands for the journey or meet just to reassure each other that our beliefs are right and we are exactly were we need to be.
You know instantly when you cross paths with a cosmic litter mate. The feeling of knowing a person before you know them. The familiar effortlessness of conversation. I know there are places and times that we manage to get to with no real effort or explanation...And there waiting is our just as unsuspecting cosmic buddy with the same tattered appointment card. Even the passing acquaintances, in parting you know that your larger selves are somewhere high fiving each other that the dumb little human suits were able to find each other in the murk and madness that is this spinning ball.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Friday, December 25, 2009
Ass Spelunking Holiday and a General Lack of Class
Where to start? Please note that this is not going to be in any type of chronological or logical order for that point. Just getting it out there. We temporarily lifted the fart moratorium here at Casa de Flatulent Free. Mr Man had to go for an Ass Spelunking (not sure if it warrants being capitalized but I'm guessing 45 ft of cinematic equipment up your ass probably does) and of course they puff you up like Rocco the Clown blows up balloon animals. I'm pretty sure that the doctor, nurses and random orderlys have never been thanked nearly so much and in general complimented for their services. Apparently Mr Man on anesthesia = super sweet Chatty Cathy. He told all of us how wonderful the hospital was and how great everybody treated him. He waved and told anyone in sight good bye. Luckily we avoided the parade wave, but not by much. I got him home and on the couch under a couple of blankets and gave a wide berth for the deflation process. Happy to report that the fart truce is back in full force.
Any body who's anyone knows that I am not a holiday type of person. I am not Scrooge, I just don't like them....haven't since I don't know when. It's not just limited to Christmas, I hate Thanksgiving and New Years too. If sleeping from about the third week of November until oh say mid March was acceptable behavior then I would be the first to sign up. I do really really look forward to going to see the Wizard of Oz play every year. Mr Man has taken me the last 3 years. We always go to the Sunday matinee. (*That reminds me of something but in attempt of not being completely random I'll come back to that.) There is always a kid adult ratio of about 500:1 and at least half of them are dressed like little Dorothy's...with little ruby slippers on...they are so cute. I just want to pinch their little heads off. Every single year walking in I say the exact same thing "Fuck...we forgot our kid". But I digress. We rush to the little concession stand and thanks to the new NC only one drink at a time law we get our little thimbles of wine and try not to spill it...note to the Carolina Theatre concession planning gods...price is not the issue...hell I'll give you 15 bucks for a solo cup next year. With all those kids I need it. It is however, the best play ever. Me and daddy always watched it on TV together and I love it.
So I was fresh off my Wizard buzz when I saw this ad in the paper for A Christmas Carol at the Palace Theatre. Well here's my logic...if a little community theatre group and pull off awesome then a big ass tourist trap is going to rock...Right? I talk Sharon into going with us with the allure of injecting a little class and culture into our otherwise bar filled Sunday afternoons. The road to the catching of hell is paved with good intentions. I actually stopped drinking and had water at lunch so I wouldn't be trashed...plus I was looking forward to 5 or 6 wine thimbles to get me through. The smarter ones in the crowd continued beering. So we get in and at the concession stand...Dr Pepper and popcorn. FUCK ME RUNNING...REALLY?? And there were at least 2 hoverounds buzzing in front of us. Note...they were the only things buzzing. Sharon was already threatening my ass kicking. Me being the ever salvager remind them of culture. The opening scene...thunder, strobes, spinning white dresses...this is going to be great. Let's just say that the wad was shot. Within the first 5 minutes they shook an imaginary rug and knocked on and opened an imaginary door. IMAGINARY!! WTF?! I paid 30 bucks a ticket...you can't tell me there wasn't a fucking rug backstage some where in front of a real door.
At half time or intermission or what-the-fuck-ever it was Sharon and Mr Man pretty much unleash on me. Still being the genius in the crowd I suggest we visit the cooler in the car. As we stand in the parking lot of the Palace Theatre in broad daylight...tailgaiting...Sharon holds up her beer and toasts to class and culture. We determined that it can't be bought...even for $30. We bar hopped the rest of the day.
Any body who's anyone knows that I am not a holiday type of person. I am not Scrooge, I just don't like them....haven't since I don't know when. It's not just limited to Christmas, I hate Thanksgiving and New Years too. If sleeping from about the third week of November until oh say mid March was acceptable behavior then I would be the first to sign up. I do really really look forward to going to see the Wizard of Oz play every year. Mr Man has taken me the last 3 years. We always go to the Sunday matinee. (*That reminds me of something but in attempt of not being completely random I'll come back to that.) There is always a kid adult ratio of about 500:1 and at least half of them are dressed like little Dorothy's...with little ruby slippers on...they are so cute. I just want to pinch their little heads off. Every single year walking in I say the exact same thing "Fuck...we forgot our kid". But I digress. We rush to the little concession stand and thanks to the new NC only one drink at a time law we get our little thimbles of wine and try not to spill it...note to the Carolina Theatre concession planning gods...price is not the issue...hell I'll give you 15 bucks for a solo cup next year. With all those kids I need it. It is however, the best play ever. Me and daddy always watched it on TV together and I love it.
So I was fresh off my Wizard buzz when I saw this ad in the paper for A Christmas Carol at the Palace Theatre. Well here's my logic...if a little community theatre group and pull off awesome then a big ass tourist trap is going to rock...Right? I talk Sharon into going with us with the allure of injecting a little class and culture into our otherwise bar filled Sunday afternoons. The road to the catching of hell is paved with good intentions. I actually stopped drinking and had water at lunch so I wouldn't be trashed...plus I was looking forward to 5 or 6 wine thimbles to get me through. The smarter ones in the crowd continued beering. So we get in and at the concession stand...Dr Pepper and popcorn. FUCK ME RUNNING...REALLY?? And there were at least 2 hoverounds buzzing in front of us. Note...they were the only things buzzing. Sharon was already threatening my ass kicking. Me being the ever salvager remind them of culture. The opening scene...thunder, strobes, spinning white dresses...this is going to be great. Let's just say that the wad was shot. Within the first 5 minutes they shook an imaginary rug and knocked on and opened an imaginary door. IMAGINARY!! WTF?! I paid 30 bucks a ticket...you can't tell me there wasn't a fucking rug backstage some where in front of a real door.
At half time or intermission or what-the-fuck-ever it was Sharon and Mr Man pretty much unleash on me. Still being the genius in the crowd I suggest we visit the cooler in the car. As we stand in the parking lot of the Palace Theatre in broad daylight...tailgaiting...Sharon holds up her beer and toasts to class and culture. We determined that it can't be bought...even for $30. We bar hopped the rest of the day.
I struggle to remember a good Christmas, not that all of them weren't. But 2 years ago Christmas was the last time that I saw my daddy not in a hospital bed and the last time that he really knew me. He played with his boxes and tissue paper like a little kid would. He ate his oyster stew with a fork. As bad as it was, I failed to see that that was it and inside of 3 ugly months he would be gone. Last night was a little tough...today is better. After Mr Man dried my tears I livingroom danced with Carletta cat to Bob Marley's Three Little Birds. Don't worry about a thing...cause every little things gonna be alright...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Veteran's Day
I come from a generation of little patriotism. One that relates Veteran's Day more to advertised sale events than to soldiers and one that remembers most of Presidential affairs and mishaps since it is what was plastered all over the TVs. I remember Desert Storm as a teenager but barely more than the fire fights at night that looked more like fireworks. It seemed distant, and well, like a TV show. The violence of mainstream media has numbed us to tragedy in real life. News of the war blends away into the gray of over information and political agendas. Even the coverage of the war in Iraq now seems more like arguments between our leaders. Lost almost completely from sight and thought are the ones who have given up life as we know it to do without question what they are told. Fighting for choices made for them and going into everyday with the chance of not coming out of it.
Living with Mr Man has completely opened my eyes. He served in Vietnam and faced those same every days before I was born. I realize that whether it was WWII or Vietnam or Iraq, it's all still the same. What our soldiers do in the line of duty and endure, our cushy pampered asses can't even imagine. And they do it to keep our obliviously happy lives just that way. So from a converted open eyed child of the 70's....Thank You.
Living with Mr Man has completely opened my eyes. He served in Vietnam and faced those same every days before I was born. I realize that whether it was WWII or Vietnam or Iraq, it's all still the same. What our soldiers do in the line of duty and endure, our cushy pampered asses can't even imagine. And they do it to keep our obliviously happy lives just that way. So from a converted open eyed child of the 70's....Thank You.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Joe Typical Monday
Today we spent the day on the boat. No particular destination, just bloody marys and lunch. The waterway is full of big boats heading south for the winter. At one point I asked why you have to be 70 before you get to kayak in the Keys....Mr Man said he didn't have the answer for me. That was the only question that he couldn't answer...and he doesn't always wait for a question asked to tell me stuff. I love that he teaches me things...random smartness that only he would have the patience to pass along...the kind of things my strange sponge mind just latches on to and I remember forever. I love love that we can spend the day together and talk non-stop or we can putz down the water at sailboat speed and just BE. And I love love love that he has no need to try to break me and change me from the quirky weird little girl that I am.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Odd Planetary Alignment in the Fur Kindgom
First let me start by saying that this time change is ruining my life. All I want to do in my non-work spare time is sleep. Sleep late...nap...work...bed. Actually I'm pretty sure I've had this exact same issue every year about this time. It's like girl hibernation or something. No matter how much I sleep it's just not enough....not like barely not enough...more like no fricking where close to enough. And it sucks. I don't feel any better now that I've shared that but I can move on. Still tired though.
Am I the only one that's noticed that squirrels are in heat? Maybe its just in my tee tiny corner of the world but the horny flirty squirrels are running a muck all over the neighborhood...I'm pretty glad its not just in our yard. I would hate to be know as the people with the exhibitionist squirrels.
And its deer fucky season too. I've seen them at night coming home and even in the day time running around in neighborhoods. Nanners man Curly rolled one over the hood of his car on a busy main road last week. Worried about the dented hood or left behind deer hair??....No. He was worried about his bike that was on the rack on the back of the car. As deer spokes person I will pass along their official statement.
Dear Curly,
Deers don't have thumbs so there is no real worry of gangs of rouge deer yutes* distracting you by throwing the short straw holder in front of your car while the others jack your mountain bike off the rack. Plus we prefer girl bikes...our hips don't really allow the flexibility for the high leg throw required to mount a boy bike. And we prefer beach cruisers...you know, no hand breaks...back to that damn opposing thumb issue.
Sorry for the inconvenience,
The "They" counsel of deer
*reference to My Cousin Vinnie...its only funny if I don't have to explain everything.
On to other furry impressiveness. Roger and Beaver has both stepped up their game as of late. My super passive, let every dog at the dog park molest him dog has finally had enough and has scratched his paw line in the sand. Mr Man, fending for himself the other night heated up a frozen dinner. After he was finished the gave the little plasty bowl to the dog to lick clean. (note- highlight of dog day) The ruler of the house, aka the cat, has recently developed a taste for biped food, so of course as self appointed world leader she headed over to get her a little bit of whatever the dog was going on about. (I've actually seen her eat out of his bowl while he stood back looking like WTF?...yet do nothing) But then it happened. Fueled by his frozen dinner remnants he sprouted kahunas and GROWLED!! "BITCH this is beef chow fun FUCK YOU!!" Apparently Beef Chow Fun gravy is something to growl about...hence the fun. I have never been so proud...I only wish I could have been there to see it...kinda like missing first steps I suppose.
Lastly, in the Beaver update. A few weeks ago we went to the Panthers spanking...I mean game and met Nanner and a friend. Of course Beaver made the trip so that he could tailgate with us. He was spotted and approached by tailgate neighbors (as any celebrity would have been). These guys, despite being Bills fans and kind of not knowing it was a 4 o'clock game, were cool guys. They'd been tailgating since 9am which may kinda sorta explain the approaching of the Beaver...but none-the-less they wanted their pictures taken with Mr GQ.
Am I the only one that's noticed that squirrels are in heat? Maybe its just in my tee tiny corner of the world but the horny flirty squirrels are running a muck all over the neighborhood...I'm pretty glad its not just in our yard. I would hate to be know as the people with the exhibitionist squirrels.
And its deer fucky season too. I've seen them at night coming home and even in the day time running around in neighborhoods. Nanners man Curly rolled one over the hood of his car on a busy main road last week. Worried about the dented hood or left behind deer hair??....No. He was worried about his bike that was on the rack on the back of the car. As deer spokes person I will pass along their official statement.
Dear Curly,
Deers don't have thumbs so there is no real worry of gangs of rouge deer yutes* distracting you by throwing the short straw holder in front of your car while the others jack your mountain bike off the rack. Plus we prefer girl bikes...our hips don't really allow the flexibility for the high leg throw required to mount a boy bike. And we prefer beach cruisers...you know, no hand breaks...back to that damn opposing thumb issue.
Sorry for the inconvenience,
The "They" counsel of deer
*reference to My Cousin Vinnie...its only funny if I don't have to explain everything.
On to other furry impressiveness. Roger and Beaver has both stepped up their game as of late. My super passive, let every dog at the dog park molest him dog has finally had enough and has scratched his paw line in the sand. Mr Man, fending for himself the other night heated up a frozen dinner. After he was finished the gave the little plasty bowl to the dog to lick clean. (note- highlight of dog day) The ruler of the house, aka the cat, has recently developed a taste for biped food, so of course as self appointed world leader she headed over to get her a little bit of whatever the dog was going on about. (I've actually seen her eat out of his bowl while he stood back looking like WTF?...yet do nothing) But then it happened. Fueled by his frozen dinner remnants he sprouted kahunas and GROWLED!! "BITCH this is beef chow fun FUCK YOU!!" Apparently Beef Chow Fun gravy is something to growl about...hence the fun. I have never been so proud...I only wish I could have been there to see it...kinda like missing first steps I suppose.
Lastly, in the Beaver update. A few weeks ago we went to the Panthers spanking...I mean game and met Nanner and a friend. Of course Beaver made the trip so that he could tailgate with us. He was spotted and approached by tailgate neighbors (as any celebrity would have been). These guys, despite being Bills fans and kind of not knowing it was a 4 o'clock game, were cool guys. They'd been tailgating since 9am which may kinda sorta explain the approaching of the Beaver...but none-the-less they wanted their pictures taken with Mr GQ.
Noteable quote of the day "Holy shit...it's only 2:30...I've got to get my life together". Mr Western Shirt and the big guy admitted to being life partners...but in a non-gay way. Beave just dug the attention...although they thought he might want to consider a first name change...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
One Year or Eighteen...
This week marks the one year anniversary of my exit from main stream corporate america. It was one year ago today that I found out that I no longer had employment, insurance, income or security. I'm sure I was scared and freaked out, but looking back I honestly don't recall it.
This week also marks what would have been my 18 year anniversary if I'd have stayed on the merry-go-round to hell that was my first marriage. I remember more about my "feelings" from that day, I would classify it as dead between "You can't fucking tell me what to do" and "RUN!!!" Hind sight says I should have gone with Door#2, but alas I was much more of a rebel at the time vs. an intuitive decision maker. Still having a strong streak of both I am happy to inform that they have pretty much flip flopped as of late.
Daddy's birthday is next week. He would have been 64. Seems hard to believe that he's missed his last two. Time marches on...and at an alarming pace. It doesn't feel like I've been "getting by" for a year nor does it feel like I am old enough to have been old enough 18 years ago to make dumbass matrimony choices.
Looking back life is made up of warm and cold spots. The warm spots are the people and times and things that make you smile every time your thoughts drift their way. The cold spots are the idiots and stupid ass crap you cross paths with that make you seriously question if maybe your mom smoked crack when she was pregnant with you...because there's really no other logical explanation to why you subjected yourself to the shit. Fortunately and unfortunately I have a lot of both. I have to admit the cold spots only make the warm spots feel warmer. And I'm a stronger person for having survived and made my way through the tough and not so smart times.
Fast forward one year?? It feels good to know I've found a travel partner to venture down the road with, but where that will be...I have absolutely no clue...and that's Awesome. Right now?...the water is warm come on in.
This week also marks what would have been my 18 year anniversary if I'd have stayed on the merry-go-round to hell that was my first marriage. I remember more about my "feelings" from that day, I would classify it as dead between "You can't fucking tell me what to do" and "RUN!!!" Hind sight says I should have gone with Door#2, but alas I was much more of a rebel at the time vs. an intuitive decision maker. Still having a strong streak of both I am happy to inform that they have pretty much flip flopped as of late.
Daddy's birthday is next week. He would have been 64. Seems hard to believe that he's missed his last two. Time marches on...and at an alarming pace. It doesn't feel like I've been "getting by" for a year nor does it feel like I am old enough to have been old enough 18 years ago to make dumbass matrimony choices.
Looking back life is made up of warm and cold spots. The warm spots are the people and times and things that make you smile every time your thoughts drift their way. The cold spots are the idiots and stupid ass crap you cross paths with that make you seriously question if maybe your mom smoked crack when she was pregnant with you...because there's really no other logical explanation to why you subjected yourself to the shit. Fortunately and unfortunately I have a lot of both. I have to admit the cold spots only make the warm spots feel warmer. And I'm a stronger person for having survived and made my way through the tough and not so smart times.
Fast forward one year?? It feels good to know I've found a travel partner to venture down the road with, but where that will be...I have absolutely no clue...and that's Awesome. Right now?...the water is warm come on in.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
It's My Own Damn Fault
To borrow a Buffett line. If it's not some one's already shitty marriage falling apart or some one's devastated broken heart, it's someone all alone and martyring over everything...and some how it's all interrelated and has a common axis. It's all my fault. I'm one important center of all blame, all powerful muthafucker. How is it that one damn person has that kind of impact? For once everyone stand up and be fucking accountable. Your marriage falling apart might have more to do with never working, cooking, cleaning or putting out. Your devastated broken heart may have something to do with jerking off to Internet porn and soliciting strangers for a good discreet fuck and the ignoring of me in the meanwhile. And all alone may be exactly what I have been the majority of my life, so don't be surprised when I stay in the shell when dealing with death and family. I obviously could rule the world, if according to all of them, my magic wasn't being wasted on evil. WTF. Leave me alone.
Enter stage Cold Bitch.
Enter stage Cold Bitch.
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