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Thursday, May 19, 2011

What I am Grateful For


From a page out of my “Dreams” journal…
What I am grateful for
·        I am grateful for my ability to write and my story.
·                  My dreams and the ability to remember them.
·                  Saturday drives to the library and the volumes and volumes of books, cds, dvds, and other resources.
·                  For music and literature.
·                  For words.
·                  How beautiful snow looks on the barren tree branches.
·                  For Love, Loyalty, and Respect…
From a page of my heart
·                  I am grateful for my father’s love.
·                  For closing doors and open windows.
·                  Friendships and continuing conversations.
·                  My story is still growing within me and I look forward to it being read without.
·                  Patience
·                  Twinkle in his eyes
·                  Him

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I Am (wait for it!)

"I'm a troublemaker; never been a faker; do things my own way; and never giving Up."  So, lately I have been causing trouble for myself.  I have been letting my own destructive ways create havoc on my otherwise happy existence.  I have let all that troubles me fester inside and the bottle has explode.
"I can't confront you, I never could do
That which might hurt you so try and be cool
When I say, "This way is a water slide away from me
That takes you further every day, hey, so be cool"  
Yesterday, I had a meltdown and when everything has been let out on the table (I curtsy in my head) and went on my way.  I tried to collect myself but, at last, I let it all out in a uprising sorrow.
As a writer, I can meditate the write words and they appear on my paper but I fail miserable when put on the spot.  Even if I somehow work things out in my head, when confronting another my tongue get so twisted and I end up spattering things out.
I do not know why I simply let myself get so caught up in another to the point where I am lost.  I become a whisper of myself.  This is not good.  I do not want to become a splinter.
"like a sick domestic abuser looking for a fight"  I can only comfort myself.  And the best way is to crack up but I am bless because I remember music.
I go to what I have the fortunate to come across and let the songwriter sing for me.  This morning the sun came out and it is a new day.  Yesterday is gone.  "I am just waiting until the shine wears off."
No comments for I am going to keep this one personal.


I do not know how to be proper when it comes to relating with another.  I think it is because I can be either or/neither nor.  One the outside I can smile but but my body's twitching will give me away.




Truth  I am looking for a lifetime of devotion.  I think I am worth it for I can be quite loyal.  Okay; for real; I am trying my damn hardest to not have my tail between legs and scamper away.  "A taste of honey is worst than none at all"




Okay what is left but to play two songs (unrelated) and can you find the meaning to why they coexist with one and another?
I suppose, it is the inner fight between something golden.  It is a power struggle and I want to lose for I want to be free.  I feel that losing does not mean that I am a quitter, I just simply lost.  I have found my match; I am with some one I cannot deviant from.  Maybe I do not know how to put it in words but he is not a smell, not a sound, not a sight, not a taste, not even a touch.  (I doubt, my spirit would be it usual lingering self.)

May I be bless and find some way to cope and carry on.  

According to David Augsburger: Forgiveness is letting what was, be gone; What will be, come; What is now, be.

 and 

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Songs that reminds me of...

I think it was when I question my first romantic relationship that I asked to have a better understanding of LOVE.
 "take my heart and please don't break it"

Of course a year or so after that I came across Ryan.  He was my first guy friend and I was in my early twenties.  He was the first person that just sat there and listens to my bull shitting.  He had a girlfriend though.  I struggled with that infatuation.
 he introduce me to this band  and this next one is for 15 minutes when he would listen and let me rub his head.

Along came Billy and I let my friendship with Rye become a regret.  Let me just say that Billy was adorable and immature even though he was my first soldier.  I met him after he came back from a tour and yeah I think he had some PSTD and anger issues.  He was part of supplies but yet he had some freaky stories.
 this was our song (yeah can't use it for another, sts) got another that reminds me of Billy

After a year, I was ready to move on from Billy and his flirtatious ways.  (Ok, it takes two to be in and two to wander away from a relationship.)  This is when Adam walked into my gallery and hung a picture.  Oh, how I had forgotten what it was to be in love with all those other boys.
 and  plus 

What number are we at?  I do not know if I should but I will include Michael.  I was heavily inverted and started using the internet again.  I started chatting online which I have not done since I was a teenager (someday maybe I will share that story).  And he was my second soldier and we chatted while he was on deployment.
 it is an endearing song

Okay before I come to an end and enclose my feelings on love, I will share this from my first relationship; his name was Ken (ick) and he sweetly sang this one to me

.Where was I?  I was na├»ve in love with Kenny but it was Ryan that opened me up to LOVE.  As I typed before, I was infatuated with him. 
My beliefs on how the human emotions infiltrate LOVE:
* Crush: his name was Jeffry and he was so cute; And I also had a crush on his much older brother (not at the same time).  I was in grade school.  I had another crush in more recent years and I knew it, named it, moved on from it.  Ick!  He was a smooth talker but when I saw him for the first time, Ick.
* Infatuation: his name was Chris and he was Jeffry’s older brother and I was crushing on him in which led to infatuation for a long, long, time; I was still in my early twenties dreaming that he would come along.  I learned that infatuation can be either good or bad.  Ok, I will use present “heart” as an example of good, I was infatuated with him (maybe a wee bit lust thrown in) when I first started to hold conversations with him.  Bad infatuations are fruitless.
* Lust: it is not a deadly sin but all out icky.  OH! (it is a deadly sin? And by the way, who has not committed a deadly sin if not all of them?)  I believe if one only has sexual desire for than forget it!  Hence, mine was a wee one.
* Adore: oppose to lust.  It is when one is too endearing to ignore.  I got four; My sister, My Ryebread, My Hangman, and My Adorable Wanker.  The last definitely was nothing but adoration.  He still got my adoration but I cannot claim to still love him.
Now put the infiltrations aside and what do we have love at its true form; No complying; No wanting; simply in the present.  Love is all that Paul shared with the Corinthians and it is also all those things he shared that are not of love.  It is the Golden Rule.  Once the light shined on me, I could no longer deny LOVE.  I am a vessel over flowing with love.  For me, it is in hysterical laughter (wink J), in a smile, in arms drape around a neck, ect.
Hmmm, and what do you have to type?







The Picture Wall


I sat in the middle of my sister’s office admiring the pretty pictures on the wall.  She had a decent amount framed of us when we were little.  I had to sigh and think to self “Jennifer you cannot hug a picture.”  No, we cannot go back; we can only hang pictures on the wall of our youth.  I tried to conduct in my head what it is like when a person looks at these pictures and ask my sister “who are these adorable children”.  (Yeah we were all adorable!)
I know what she would say “Oh, these are my brother and sister and me.”  Then I would go a bit further and have this imaginary guest ask “and how are they doing these days?”  Hmmm, this is where I picture my sister making a peculiar look and then sadly replying “I am no longer in touch with them.”  However, I make believe that I truly know what my sister would say “Oh, my brother is married with two children and works for Concord.  “My sister, well she went to massage school and we are still waiting for her to make something of it.”
When I come across something that reminds me of my sister, I start to day dream and wonder if she ever stops and think about me.  

I have come to a deep understanding that it takes two to be in a relationship and it takes the same two to brake off.  I guess we are taking a long vacation from one and another for my sister and my brother are nothing more than photographs I cannot hug but don’t we look happy.


Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Music Can Heal One Soul

I believe a song writer sinks deep inside his/her soul and gathers raw emotions to place upon the sound waves.  Harmony and melody dance together and beats out a story for the aching soul to submerge in.  The heart begins to strum along, the lungs sweetly inhale, the eyes start to twinkle, and the ears perk up. 
A foot twitches, shoulders sway to and fro while the hips swirl lightly to echoes of sound waves bouncing off of the largest organ of the body (skin).  The conscious is taking over.  The ears may hear but it is the soul that listens.
Broken hearts learn to blossom again.  The logically mind is cast away.  Silence is shattered.  A voice is free.  The soul soars and the body feels light as a feather.  All thanks to the song writer willingness to share the pain.
We can cope together. 
We are connected. 
We can sing!
I am grateful for music that heals my aching soul.

Monday, April 18, 2011

X Marks The Spot

Shall you etch upon my soul something wonderful?
Or brand me with delight, a mark,
I would come to dread.
Come.
Tread lightly upon my waters for,
I am sorry to say ‘sometimes’,
My harbors are unsafe.
I have fury yet I am calm.
I sing sweetly a sour not upon the throne.
Dive deeply into my shallow fortress
And plunger my barren chest.
Woe is the man who ignores a woman’s cry
Whether it is out of spite or not.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Hanged Man (Drowning Ed3m)

The Hanged Man, the card of sacrifice.  I know of this man very well for I have lived with him.  Of course, I have called him something else and I have painted the image of him for generations to be in awe with when I am long gone.  Something inside me (tilts head slightly) was awaken by his smell.  A memory flashed before me.  We were in line with the mockery of time.
“His smell reminded me of a good memory.” I have written this down many times in variety of journals.  I thought of him as good as of his smell.  I longed to be near him.   I waited and pondered and held such wondrous night capers about him.  Above all, I bid my time for I was in a relationship with another and I could not let this infatuation get the better of me.
Oh…the good girl that I claim to be held on to her virtue.  I did not even dare to put myself in a situation where my actions would be in questioned.  I kept my “hanged man” at a good distance, hoping that fate would not waiver me.  I was even honest with the one that hold claimed to me, by disclosing how I felt about our mutual friend.  My boyfriend was quite simple and easily swayed away from harmful intentions.
I did not want to hurt anyone; I just wanted to know how to go about my strong emotions towards the one who hanged so sweetly upon my tree.  The lover broke free from his duties and I (mouse) shall play while he (cat) was away.  Ode to my defense!  As much as I let the lamb unbutton my jeans, I hesitated, resigned and push his hand off.  So, when the cat did come back I squeakily told of my misdeeds and bowed my head for a pardon.
My friend sheepishly vanished and I cried for his return.  A month later I received a phone call that marked the beginning of my sad relationship with my drowning Ed3m (my hanged man).  This is nothing that I know in hindsight for I was very much within the spark of the flame.  I had a glimmer to what or relationship was going to be like but I did not listen to my soul’s chatter.
A year before my marked arrival on his doorstep I told him this fisher of a tale about how I knew him in a past life and how he was no good.  I also told him that we should not even bother to be friends because he really messed me up in that so called life.  Yes, I was surprise too that he actually still talked to me after that and that we ended up being together.  What can I say other than “I was drawn to him” and I honestly only wanted to just be able to love him even if it were to be from a far.
(Sigh.)  I respect the distance he put between us and I honor his silence from my life.
 I do not recall if I cried drawing him into or harder erasing him out of my life.  We shared but a short bitter-sweet time together and I would linger longer in that mist for another two years or so on; or less.  I let myself go haggard into my thirties; afraid that if the sun’s glitter a golden shine upon me I would wither away.  I still love him because my love is abundant and infinite.  We are better apart and shall never be as we were before the second of fulfillment turned into the years of emptiness.
The two years that I knew of my hanged man and the two years that followed I did learn some things about myself.  I am only on the built in ladder half way up from the hole that I dug myself into.  Well at least, I did not burry myself.  I am still learning.  I believe that we are truly magically beings for we can let go and yet hold on to so much baggage. 
Patchouli that was what he would put in his laundry and that was a fragrance that my good friend in high school wore and what the little store in the mall smelt like where I enjoyed working in.  He smelt like a good memory and I wanted to go there and stay there but reality brought me somewhere else.