Basics

I'm a bit random and all over the place with this, but that's how the thoughts came to me.  There were already ideas and notes written then I saw, of all things to inspire me, a church marquee.  I think I still pay attention to them because of all the years of watching my dad try to come up with clever shit to put on them.  Most make me want to vomit in my mouth.  But this one said "What would you do if this was your last day on earth?"  When it comes down to it, all the basic necessities you need can fit in that top dresser drawer of the beat up donated Hospice furniture.  Here's my top drawer list of all that I need to be happy, in no particular order.

Laughing, the ocean, clams and rum. 
Music, time by water doing nothing but thinkin'.
Stars and the moon on the water.
Being the only person on earth who knows where you are.
Peach vodka and cherry rum.
Wet dog nose.
Lying on your back in a tidal pool watching clouds.

Outside of the clams and liquor, none of them cost a thing, come with any obligation or depend on anyone else. 
So it says the age old song, we are gone before we recognize that we are there.  Night turns into morning, and there without a warning is another day.  Another day to dream...another day less young.  (Lyrics from the Big White Undies)  I don't know that I've always been this way but I'm tapped into being in the moment right now. 
In the big picture it takes very little to make me happy and for that I feel pretty fortunate. At the end of that last day on earth, I think the best you can hope for is to be able to say "Absolutely nothing different".

A Rebel Child and A Preacher's Daughter

Change...What everyone given a long enough time line will inevitably want from me.  It's also in all likelihood what I will never do.  How I am or you are in essence is all that we have.  I own it.  I own me.  I have always been exactly what you see.  I have no agenda, its all right there on the surface.  I am black & white.  I am middle of the road even keel.  I am fiercely independent and hard headed.  I am a socialized hermit...a zen white peaceful calm in the middle of most any storm.  I say what I think, but not all that I think and the things I say are thought out.  I exist in my head and feelings are about the last thing I'll find necessary to tell.  I think actions speak loudest and in general talk is cheap. I don't argue and push my point or beliefs on others.  I will give you plenty of rope, if you choose to hang yourself with it then that's your choice. I like to drink alone.  Alone time, written words and music calm me and connect me.  When I get off center I can not realign around people. 

The things that attract people the most in the beginning are also the same things that they tire of eventually.  I am painfully aware of this...I warn in advance.  I still rebel against the basics of society.  When backed into a corner I cat up...even if I was curled up sleeping contently in that corner.  I'm one stubborn block of a skinny white girl and there really is no changing me.

18 & Sun Baked

The need to write isn't the same need as normal.  Normally I have words running all over each other in my head causing thought traffic delays.  This is more of a pile of post its and bar napkins and various shards of paper with one liners from either me or random others.  The pile was starting to get out of control so here's a post dedicated completely to them.  I will try to give credit where credit is due and disguise some players cleverly with dark rim glasses and black fuzzy mustaches if necessary.

"Isn't it funny how things that have tails don't have butt cracks?" - Me on the subject of trust and if people had tails how much easier it would be to spot the crack pots.  You can't fake a wag and if its tucked you'd know they were up to something...you get my point.  I'm aware there is argument with the tail/crack statement but really horse-ish creatures are the only real exception that I can see...moving on.

"I'm a skitzoid and maybe I'm a man" - Said by Carter...not sure of the context...not even sure if context would matter.  Whaaatt?

"I can almost swear that I've never fucked anybody from West Virginia" - Said by Mr Man after apparently one two or seventy too many shots.  It wasn't until later that I brought a reasonable doubt to light.  He happened to live in Ohio for a questionable man whore stint.  Last time I checked it borders WV...the odds are there, that's all I'm saying.

"Heels mean  you paid for it...Tennis shoes mean you found it" - Credit to L square.  Comment on the upside down tennys I'd witnessed sticking out the passenger window of a big truck earlier that day...obvious head in traffic action.  We deduced from his cleverness that the guy had in fact just gotten lucky most likely for free.

On that note "I've never slept with a hooker" - break return from potty- amends statement "in this country" - Anonymously said.  For future argument sake if you only did it once or if said act takes place outside of the continental US you have a hall pass.

"Anybody that fights with their feet and fucks with their faces ain't for me" - Dukeism on the French.  Have to gather that he's not a fan...ya think?

"You are aware...Both of us have gone to a bar with a book in the same week."  Me to Nanner.  We are both reading some version of sex memoirs.  Chelsea Handler for me and Blanche the Golden Girl  for her who's real name escapes me at the moment.  Book exchange in the immediate future.

A very serious faced Roblet (this draws attention just in itself because let's admit it...it never happens) says "Hey guys, I've got a question for you...(dramatic pause) WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?!"....deep sigh.

"Crabs don't poop...they don't even have butt holes" - An ongoing argument between me and my favorite vet.  Trust him with my furry son?  Absolutely.  But there's no way  in hell I'm gonna let him do a lobotomy on my pet crab if I ever decide to get one.

"The lack of awareness of the hotness is hotter than the hotness" - Me to Nanner(because let's not kid ourselves...who the hell else would possibly say this besides me) I was on subject of a hot Shemar Moore look-a-like that she went out with, who was a little too aware of the above mentioned hotness. (This is my general opinion of all hotness and hotness people know...you know who you are)  As it turned out for ole Shemar, hot awareness is quite counter productive....another deep sigh.

Since Roger has no real voice he has to make notable quotes best way he knows how...through poo.  This was yesterdays rather substantial poo...in the perfect shape of an 18.  I was sans camera so I found it again today.  One day of 5000 degree heat and direct sun and this is what we have...

This one comes from someone I obviously don't know or associate with...you can tell by the sheer depth of the quote that they probably don't hang out with people who photograph and share dog poo accomplishments.  "I asked for a miracle.  And I considered the possibility of another possibility." - Marianne Williamson

Father's Day Minus the Integral Part

Last week on the beach I tried writing something for Daddy.  It started off as a letter of unanswered questions.  I got one written and for the life of me couldn't come up with another.  Then yesterday I got a magazine in the mail and immediately opened it up and ripped all those little sewn in postcard thingys out of it.  Its the first thing I do every single time, and I realized where I got it from.  Him.  So I started writing down everything that I got from him.  I have his thumbs, I think it was the first thing they checked  when I was born...I never noticed how strikingly the same our hands looked until he was sick and his hands were more the size of mine.  I have his dimples and even though our smiles are different we both smile and make fun and dork off most of the time.   I drag my right heel when I walk...same way he did.  I have the same nervous energy that refuses me the ability to sit still and not at least pick my nails constantly.  He had an eye for pictures and was always in the yard in spring trying to catch the humming birds on his zinnias.  I got his sense of money and his way of making what you have be all that you need and still save some.   I have the forehead crinkle, that before I figured out where it came from almost had it botoxed out.  Apparently our brains are wired similarly because only a fraction of what happens in here makes out to words and sometimes they come out as complete flying non-sequeters that no one around can figure exactly how the randomness relates to whatever is going on.  I always thought that he lived inside head.  He would talk for my stuffed animals when I was little...I think he gave Beaver his voice, I take full responsibility for it attitude and language.  Belief in the unbelievable...as far apart as we were in what unbelievables we believed I think the blind trust in something more than what can be seen came from him.
I don't want to disillusion and make it seem that me and Daddy were super close or inseparable...that was more his relationship with my Mom. But an awful lot of who I am is a direct undeniable line to him. He was an emotional man and had no proudness when it came to expressing feelings and crying in front of anyone, as you well know I  did not get this trait...but I cry as I write this.
Probably the most important thing that he taught me came in his early exit of stage left.  He taught me not to wait to buy a bicycle, not to wait to move to where you want to be, not to wait, or chance, or regret not doing anything.  He taught me that we don't have tomorrow to live...all we have is Now.

Heavy...Now Hand Me My Camera

Bullshit digital photography has ruined my life.  An out loud proclamation after finding and pilfering through my old black and white film albums.  Somewhere over the last several years of everydays I've desensitized.  Whether it be out of necessity or self preservation or involuntary reaction to keep on even keel, I really don't have a clue, but I've lost my passion.  Passion for things that actually register feelings. People joke about me being a guy emotionally...in actuality I'm some where between that and an emotional concrete wall.  Pretty much nothing creates a ripple.  So as I was looking through the black and white past, I felt something.  Looking back at me where people being rawly who they were.  I could almost see their souls.  No cheesy posing camera smiles.  If it wasn't captured on paper you would never have known there had been a camera present. 
I've lost my way...but I'm close behind. Its a song lyric that's been stuck in my head. I feel like I'm missing something. That portion of me that's always the first to get gone.  The portion of me that makes me different.  That part that still feels like a rebellious kid even though its fully aware that it's some how gotten trapped inside a 37 year old body. The need for purpose is weighing heavy on me.  I need something of me back. I remember sitting on the beach more than 10 years ago thinking almost the exact same thoughts as today.  The What Now side of brain is still screaming at me. I think at this point I can honestly admit that I doubt I'll ever stop asking What Now?  Doesn't speak much to progress but at least I'm consistent in my own fucked up way.  I drug my real camera out of hiding, enough with the stupid point and shoots and fucking camera phones. I've started seeing things through a camera eye again and the moon on the waterway was amazing last night.
I'm off to find a ripple.

Freedom and My Resulting Restlessness

I think I should rewind slightly and give you a quick peak back to my new resolutions for this year.

#1- Stop eating like my dog. Not meaning kibble and floor droppings, but like as in, quit inhaling and not chewing. For that one…I get a big ole check mark of accomplishment. However, it was brought about not by sheer will power but by forcing myself to eat left handed. It started off feeling like I was more likely to poke holes in my face than actually land a bite. The bad news is that the ever adaptive clever little left hand is getting quite dexterous (as in chopsticking sushi) thus my eating pace is picking back up. I’m thinking foot feeding is next.

#2 – Write more. I guess I don’t even need to say how that’s going.
So I’ve decided I’m going to do a mid year check in and revamp a bit.

Lots has happened….I ate a pig eye ball and wigged out about everyone in sight along with most that I’ve told about it since. I had a huge test of honesty at the Homo Depot where I actually stood my ground against a minimum of 4 different people that “NO, I did not give you $50 cash even though the (bone head) cashier (who’s job I was trying to save through all my heroic efforts) put it on the receipt!! I still owe you 50 dollars!!” Finally I left the store, drove to an ATM…paid the fee…drove back to the store to take them the 50 bucks the insisted that I’d already given them. Did I mention I also lost a precious hour and half of my life trying to give away money?!! I’m insane. Also, for the record, I have not noticed the sprouting of any wings on my back nor the faint or any glow for that matter of my halo, but rest assured that I am the least likely person alive that will steal from you. Then again I’ve never been addicted to heroin and my rum supply is at a safe level. If prohibition is reinstated all bets are off.

For the last year and half or more most of my thoughts have apparently been consumed with my house and my furniture and stuff that was still in my house and my lack of ever seeing said house or said stuff. And the money that was pouring to the elusive house bladdy blah and what I was going to do about it. Every day I obsessively checked my morning activity report on how many web hits it had gotten and calculated and recalculated what I could take for it at this particular nano second since the principal had dropped 2 cent. And how long I could let the grass grow between paying some one to cut it and obsess, obsess, obsess. Welp…the house sold, my shits all here in the one proverbial sock. My bank account is all fat and happy. And me? Well, let’s just call it anticlimaticism. Look at that, I’m now described with a word that wouldn’t pass a scrabble test. I’m not a real excitable person good or bad, but I honestly didn’t realize just how devoid of emotion I’ve become. I haven’t been free of dramatics in more years that I can say. Bad divorces…houses… trashing renters… job loss(x2)… death. All the calmness has me terribly restless. I have no idea what to do with myself, which would probably explain how I can be engulfed in a 1000 page novel, a US travel guide and Crazy Aunt Purls new book “Home is Where the Wine Is” at the same time I ripped the fenders off my jeep, tackled a new bathroom floor (assisted by Mr. Man) and mutilated a pigs head for a snack….and I still need for more. 

Don’t get me wrong…I am absolutely happy to be over the house/stuff drama…but what now?? My mind is wearing me out! And beware…I will eat your eyeballs if I get bored enough.  I am in dangerous place right now.

Here's What I Know

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.