A Roadtrip, and My Reservations

So I am leaving town for a week, and this is taking a huge leap of faith in my relationship with the boyfriend. If you haven’t been following, or this is your first visit, he participated in a major disappointment that almost ended our relationship. I don’t feel like revisiting the past and hashing out the details, but let’s just leave it at I am wary of my solo trip across the country and leaving him alone. It is taking everything within me not to let negative thoughts or feelings consume me.

I’m trying to put good faith forward, and believe in him when he says nothing like that will ever happen again. With the wounds still fresh, I pack my bags and am going to drive twelve hundred miles by myself, on a mission for myself. I need to spend some time with my best friend, who recently relocated to Seattle. I’m excited, as I do love the open road with all my heart. I have a gypsy soul and I long for the trip, and I will do well on my trip like I always have in the past. Only this time there is doubt that lingers in the back of my mind.

He was looking for outside validation, and I fear he will continue to look for outside validation in my absence. My worries are well founded, and I do plan on checking craigslist every night that I am gone, looking for his posts that I truly hope will not be there. I hate not trusting my heart to this man I once trusted with every ounce of my being. But in retrospect, I had put him on a pedestal and worshipped him like he could do no wrong. Since then, I realize he is human with all his fallacies, and to damn him for that would be hyper-hypocritical.

But my trip is overshadowing any doubts I may carry with me about this situation. I’m excited beyond words- I have never been to Seattle, and I get to spend almost a whole week with my best friend. She has been my best friend for twelve years; we met in college and have been besties since. I don’t like many people or have respect for even less, but I have massive amounts of respect and platonic love for this woman. I have watched her grow and blossom into a beautiful creature, both inside and out. She has had issues with me, and we have had a fair spat or two, but I love her even more for being able to be honest with me. Sometimes I feel as if she is the only one willing to be honest with me.

We’re doing the Fourth of July thing in a small mountain town called Snoqualmie, and then we’re heading to the beach for some fun on the sand. Or rocks. I don’t even know what the coastline of Washington looks like. But I am going to find out. I just hope my paranoia about what may or may not be going on at home doesn’t cast a shadow over my adventures.

I decided I am choosing to have faith in the boyfriend. I choose to believe him, and I choose to put whatever might happen in the hands of a higher power. He knows the consequences of what would happen, and he knows I would rather him be honest with me instead of going behind my back. I love this man; I have loved this man for half my life. I just want him to be happy, with me or with someone else. All I ask for is honesty and respect. I think he gets it.

Tonight, a young cousin of mine is coming to stay the night. I don’t know her very well, but she pleaded with me to be a part of her life, and she invited herself to stay the night. It should be interesting. She fancies herself a witch, and is really into the paranormal. Which I am also into the paranormal, but I don’t fancy myself a witch. I am strictly agnostic. I believe in a higher power, but I don’t personify it or worship it. I respect it. We are going to share a glass of wine and have deep theological conversations. I’d lie if I said I wasn’t curious as to how this will turn out. I get to be her taxi, she lives 45 miles away. I pick her up from work at 8:30. This is bound to be interesting.

I woke up at five this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. For no reason whatsoever. So I believe a nap is in order before any logical late night conversations, and especially before wine. Alcohol makes me soooo sleepy, and I need to have my wits about me to keep up with her fresh mind. She doesn’t really know many people from her grandfather’s side of the family, and she chose me to get to know. I hope she’s a realist and can accept me for who I am.

Well, the laundry is done, and needs to be folded, so I best get on that chore. But I do want to thank you for reading.

 

A Housewife’s Work

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A housewife’s work is never done.
There’s always chores and never fun.
Take out the trash and go for a run.
Wait at home for the family to come.

There’s the cooking and the cleaning
And all the in-betweening.
The calculated preening.
A search for the meaning.

A child never came into my life.
All I get to be is a wife.
College and career were strife.
I’m wound tight and hard like a knife.

The days come in and go out.
I ponder what life is about
As I fold laundry and clean grout.
Years pass and I grow stout.

A housewife’s work is never done.
From the first moment the sun shone.
To the last as is comes undone.
All I want is a little fun.

 

Decades of Love (A Poem)

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Its been near two decades since we first met,
Since we first made love, since you made me sweat.
Now that the years are slipping through our hands,
I count the ways you love me as if I were counting sands.
At first it was intense and swift, nothing could stop us,
Now it’s evolving into something over which no one would fuss.
You take me for granted, that is the honest fact…
I take it as a compliment, for you serve it with tact.
The gentle comfort of your breathing in bed next to me.
The way you speed up a little as we get close to the sea.
A comforting embrace from your arms to mine,
A kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the lips that could stop time.
Comfortable silences that echo off our four walls,
The way you hmmm and haw when you’re trying to stall.
A perfect evening spent in with each other,
The way you are glad you didn’t make me a mother.
Your hands so rough from making a living.
That’s your way of loving and giving and giving.
As time eclipses itself in a circle around us,
I feel the pull of your gravity between us.
The love you have for me shines bright
Much like a lighthouse, lighting the night.
It waxes and wanes, builds and subsides,
All the while our love never taking sides.
One thing that I know is the truth.
I love you, darling, from here to Duluth.
And back again, for travels can tell
Without you in the driver’s seat, this ride would be hell.
So walk with me my love, tell me a story
About you and me and all of our glory.
We’ve weathered some storms, as fierce as the sea
But all that is left at the end of the day is you and me.

 

On Celebrating My Figure

I have always had a love-hate relationship with the amount of square inches my soul inhabits. Bombarded by media that says I can’t be pretty unless you can count my ribs coupled with fabulous amounts of body shaming as I was growing up led me to believe I was too tall, too wide, and too big for anyone to love. As a 30+ woman I call bullshit on all the lies and misconceptions that were fed to me as a teenager.

Being six foot tall is enough to draw all the attention in a room, but add my size 20 dresses to the mix and apparently I am a sight to behold. I have a good amount of muscle meat on me. I have some flab around the middle. But everyone shamed me for being who I am from the time I can remember until relatively recently. “You’d be really pretty if…” I heard that countless times from even the places you look to for encouragement. There was always that resounding IF leering at me behind every off handed compliment.

I’ve been roughly this same size since I was in sixth grade. More than once I was mistaken for school staff, not student. And it followed me into college- countless freshmen asked me which course I was teaching. Now, I don’t have abnormal wrinkling, and there are zero grey hairs on this head. It is purely my stature that gets held in misconceptions.

People stare. The boyfriend and I are both really tall, and we can quiet crowds when we walk in together. I got fed up with people staring for no reason, so at one time I cut my hair very short and got a sleeve tattoo. While I still love my sleeve, it justifies people staring. I write it off as them admiring the impeccable artwork that graces my left arm. I put a ring in my nose and ten in my ears. It keeps the focus on my head, not my spare tire. And I dress to flatter my body type. I mean, it’s not every day one who isn’t an apple shape or a pear shape can find clothing to fit properly. So, as a corn dog with two sticks body shape I sew a lot of my own clothing, as well as tailor what I buy off the rack so it fits properly.

This allows me copious amounts of opportunity to play “fashion designer” with my style. I make and wear a lot of skirts. I’m an expert at tailoring jeans to fit. And I must say, I have created some pretty stunning pieces that garner envy from other women. Sometimes I will see a design I made years ago become popular with mainstream USA, and I just smile because someone, somewhere is gratifying my taste in fashion.

So between my awkward teenhood and today, I basically have given people a reason to stare and I am not so awkward when the room hushes. I have learned to embrace my body, and embrace the attention it receives. It feels good to be looked at, wondered about, and I am sure remembered. I used to long to be exotic and alluring, and it only recently dawned on me that I am exotic and alluring. This small town country girl pulled off exotic and alluring.

I used to be apologetic for my size, now I own it and I am proud to honor my curves. I am a goddess, tall and stately, to be admired and worshipped. Okay, I’ll admit that sounds incredibly vain, but it is the truth. I’m done being awkward, I am done being apologetic, I am done with society’s standard issue of beauty. To these standards I say a resounding FUCK YOU. Every body is a good body, we are all stunning pieces of unique artwork, poetry in motion, beauty oozing out of every cell of our beings. I just hope this message reaches the right audience, that it falls upon the ears of the battered and weary, that YOU are beautiful just the way you are. Size 0 or size 30, three feet tall or eight feet tall, we are all special and we all deserve to revel in ourselves, celebrate our existence. There’s a party in your skin and you are invited!

So join in the celebration of our bodies, let your joy ring from one end of town to the other. We, as human beings, are the only ones who can accept what we see in the mirror. You can demean yourselves for your flaws, or you can celebrate them for making you YOU. Every. Single. One. Of. You.

 

Summertime (A Poem)

The sunlight swirls around me, entangled in my hair.
The wind caresses me gently, without a single care.
The grass and leaves emit their smell, earthy and green.
I can taste the summertime, it feels good to be seen.

Dancing in the downtown park, on a summer day,
Sometimes I go over there, sometimes I come this way.
I flit and flutter all around, like a monarch butterfly,
Watching the occasional cloud float on by in the sky.

Something about the heat really moves my soul.
The fountain going, the children playing, all hyperbole.
The sounds of summertime awaken my senses.
On a day like today, anyone would lose their defenses.

As the sun begins to set, and the people meander home,
I step into the city streets, so my restless feet may roam.
The heat rises from the asphalt, I can hear a baby cry.
Music wafting from a backyard, I let out a sigh

And I make my way towards my home, my heart light
For a summer day turns to summer eve turns to summer night.
Without the bitter cold of winter, or the chill of spring
Would I still love summertime with as much enthusing?

Evolution II (Strange)

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Strange, how people evolve into something greater than themselves.
Strange, how some people resist it while others embrace it.
Odd, how wholesome even the most bitter of souls can become.
Odd, how some laugh hardy fool can grow bitter before growing wholesome.
Again.

Bizarre, this metamorphosis we continually engage in.
Like the snake eating its own tail, the rhythm beats as one.
Bizarre, the world in which we believe in, for what is tangible
May not have always been within our reach, and what
May evolve to be within our reach in the future.

Open your minds and set your soul free, for freedom is all we have
To hold onto, the only truth we need, the only law to abide by.
Embrace the change, as the seasons pass and turn into years
And the years into decades, and decades into centuries,
And the centuries into millenniums beyond the grasp of reality.

What is man, but a strange creature in a symbiotic world where
The only true freedom is the freedom you take, not what you are granted.
Man has fallacies, man is only human, and man is not a humble creature.
But the possibilities are endless if they only look within, if they only see
The depth of the greatness at hand, if only one lifts the veil.

A So/So Weekend

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Today was a mixture of pleasure and pain. On one hand, it was a typical Sunday in early June with nice weather and a pleasant atmosphere. I went for a visit at my parents’ house, and then on to hang out with the wife of my cousin. It’s been almost 2 months since I saw her, and we used to hang out every day. She spoiled me rotten, taking me out to lunch and buying me prizes. But she skirted my questions about why it’s been so long since she has followed through on empty promises to get together. She had two glasses of wine with lunch, and promptly burst into tears when we got back to her place.

I love this woman. I think of her as my own cousin, not a mere in-law. Her heart has been through hell and back more times than I care to enumerate. The poor lady pours her heart out to me, and I feel bad for being annoyed that it took so long to “coordinate our schedules”… On the drive home I was going over our conversation in my head, and I figured out why she’s been avoiding me.

I know some secrets. She has presented herself vulnerable to me and was afraid or ashamed or something unbeknownst to me that has prevented her from wanting to actually get together. Maybe I act as a good psychologist, as college courses and then my own experience with them setting me up to help people. Maybe she felt she got a little too personal on some private matters, and didn’t want to talk about them again. Either way, I was really, really glad we hung out today.

We celebrated my dad’s birthday this weekend. The live-in chef (the boyfriend) smoked a pork shoulder and it was delicious. I love my dad with all my heart, and he is going through some tough times too right now. He lost his job of 30 years 2 years ago, and recently was let go from the job he got to replace it. He is aging, and he is truly a good person, and it breaks my heart to see them struggle and watch him put all this effort into trying to find a job, and nobody is calling him back. On paper, he is very qualified and educated. In person he is quick witted and has common sense, and can back up his paper credentials with flying colors. I just don’t understand it. He’s hirable, but nobody wants to hire him.

My uncle just had a heart attack that landed him in emergency surgery. He’s been released back to work, but he doesn’t feel like he should have to pay my parents any rent money because he doesn’t think he runs up the power bill or water bill or food bill. He was complaining the other day that he had to start eating healthier, and refused to eat the dinner my momma had made. His arrogance and narcissism drive me insane. He owes them a third of household costs. Period. I just want to slap him when he starts his bigoted talk and narrow minded thinking. It’s going to give me a heart attack to see him use my parents some more. 20 years off and on he’s lived with them, I think 5 of those years total he didn’t live with them. It just drives me insane!

The boyfriend has been distant the last week or so. He’s got something going on in his mind and he has been taking out on me. Being snippy, snarky, and a general asshole about every little thing. I’m walking on eggshells around here and it sucks. I just wish he would communicate with me instead of talking at me. I long for the loving pillow talk of days past. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I have no other choice, really. Uncle is mooching off my parents, no room for me there. I don’t make enough to support myself and I could find a roommate, but would they treat my cats decently? Funny, to think that I may be staying in the relationship for the sake of the cats. No, that’s not the case. I do love him, and only I know what I am willing to accept and what I am not willing to compromise with.

In a month I will be driving 2000 miles for an adventure I am longing and looking forward to immensely. My best girlyfriend is flying in from Seattle and I get to drive her home! The thrill of the open road, the only time I feel complete and whole. She makes a great traveling companion, but it’s the trip home I am looking forward to the most. 1000 miles of nothing but myself and my little car. I can stop and see sights; I can dine or break whenever I need to, no rush, and no hurry. I may even get a cheap motel on my way home and turn it into a 2 day voyage. The possibilities are endless! I can hardly wait! 4th
of July in Seattle, here I come!

That’s about it. I don’t know how to end this in a smooth, peaceful manner. If you have read this far, I thank you for reading my spew of random thoughts and words. I use this platform as an online journal in which I will let you, a stranger, read my thoughts but nobody in my waking life is aware I have an online journal. Either way, enjoy your week.
 

Self Observation

Why must we define ourselves? Can’t we just exist, with no labels? Is it instinctive to classify everything as something or another? And how exactly are you supposed to answer the question when a stranger asks you to tell them about yourself? What defines me?

I have gone through phases in my life. There was a nerdy phase, mostly birth through the summer I was 13. Academic Team, Debate Club, came in second place overall state at a geography bee. I would read the encyclopedia for fun. (This was before the internet, when I had to go to a place called a library full of periodicals I would pour over for years on end.)

Then the summer I was 13 I discovered boys and booze and weed. Nobody corrupted me; I went looking to be corrupted. I became a hippy, regaled myself to mostly wearing tie-dye and bell bottoms. But it was the mid 90’s and very acceptable. I was a hippy all through high school, or school high, or however you want to look at it. Don’t get me wrong, being a brainiac for most of my childhood paid off dearly, I graduated with a 3.75 GPA and even took a few years of college too.

After high school, I went through a really dark phase where I was experimenting with some bad things. I turned from a hippy into a metal chick. Technically, post-progressive rocker. My standard uniform was and still is a black shirt and dark wash jeans and skater shoes. I wear my hair long, I wear bold and bright makeup, and I have a zillion piercings and tattoos. My idea of a thrilling Saturday night was a few hits of acid and some quantum physics.

After college, I really mellowed out. I slowed down on the psychedelics and quantum physics, and started to get to know me. The real me, not the outside me, but rather the inside me. I decided to befriend the same person who held me down for all those years- myself. I realized I am a very complex and unique creature, capable of both beauty and ugly, peace and war. My feelings are valid, as are yours and his and hers and theirs. That there are 7 billion people on this planet and each of us has a personal story to tell. Who am I to judge the paths others choose to walk down?

I still identify with the post-progressive scene the most. I still proudly wear my tattoos and black eyeliner. But my soul has evolved into a higher being, and no, that’s not the DMT talking… I feel at peace with my past and all the mistakes I have made. I have made peace with my future and whatever curve balls life will throw at me. I feel content with the present, as there is a roof over my head and food in my belly. The bills are mostly paid, and I’m ok with all my opinions on all the subjects I know about. I am open to learning more, as I am a student of life.

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Things I Love

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I love many things, and at the risk of a far too lengthy blog post, I am going to write about some of them. My last post was stuff I hate, so what better than to follow it up with stuff I love? First, let me talk about my love. My love is deep, fierce, and forgiving. My love is passionate, my love is not humble, my love is worn on my sleeve. I love many more things than I hate, and that is good because generally I am a positive person. Without further adieu…

I love music. Listening to it, playing it, singing it, all aspects of it. When words fail me, music is the perfect antidote. I love all kinds of music, too. I’m a progressive metal girl, but everything from bluegrass to classical to pop to gangsta rap, I love it. Poetry in motion is what I find music to be.

I love life. The wonders held within fascinate me to no end. From the tiniest plant poking its head through the dirt to the largest and most phenomenal events like birth and death, I love every aspect of life. The rhythm of the earth plays its own music, and I am thoroughly delighted by it. I have a tattoo that depicts my love for the circle of life. It’s an arborous, which is a snake eating itself in a perfect circle. I wear it on my left calf.

I love people. The gamut of people that roam this earth excites me. From free thinking lovers such as myself to the most vain and inward souls, such as terrorists and insurgents. There are 8 billion people on this earth at any given time, and each of us holds a story within a story. We all fit together in a symbiotic world in which we all need each other to live as we do. The poverty of developing countries, the overabundance of wealth and vagrancy in others, it’s all beautiful. I have lived in upper lower class America my whole life; I know what it means to do without, to go to bed hungry, to not know if rent would get paid. There is a beauty in the uncertainty of it all.

I love travel. I have had wanderlust since a child, and have seen many things on the open road. I have met many great folks on the open road. I have hit speed bumps going 100 mph and I have crawled alongside the freeway at a pace that would frustrate a snail. I have been all over the western states of America, and dream of a traveler’s life in Europe and Asia and Africa, too. I promised my grandmother, as a child, that I would walk the holy land for her, and although I am unaffiliated with any religion, I would like to keep my promise.

I love cleaning. It’s meditative to me, to get in a pace and in a zone where the end result is a house so clean you could perform minor surgery in it. With two cats and a mechanic, it seems that cleaning would be a chore, but it’s not. I look forward to it. Every morning, over my glass of tea, I wonder which room I am going to scour today. Today it was the kitchen. That room is spotless. When I go out of town, and stay at someone’s place, and say they have to work a day, I spend that day as a cleaning tornado whipping through their home, leaving it bright and shiny. Most recent example, I was 300 miles from home at a friends’ house and they had dance class. During their 3 hour class I deep cleaned one whole floor of their home. The man of the house was dumbfounded, but my best friend knew I would do that and she told him it’s one of the reasons she loves me. Because I like to clean. I LOVE to clean.

I love flowers. They bring beauty to the world, and joy to my heart. Flower gardens, wildflowers, a bouquet just for the fun of it. I love all blooming things. I love them so much; I have many tattoos in their likeness and honor. The delicate beauty of all the different kinds of petals and foliage entice me and lure me deeper into love with them. Their smells are intoxicating, from the earthy wafts of baby’s breath to the deeper, exotic orchid scents. I love them all.

I love being a girl. I love that I can wear my hair a million different ways, I love playing with nail polish and perfumes and the whole gamut of makeup that I have access to thrills me beyond anything. Lotions and potions, serums and spray, I love primping and pruning and pouring over my femininity. I love lace and layering and skirts and pretty shoes. I love looking at my sparkly red toes peeping up through the bubbles in my bath. I love smelling delicious. I love being a girl.

I love medicating myself. I look forward to my nightly sips of whiskey and the occasional puff or two of the green stuff. I love relaxing and socializing, and laughing, and sharing stories of the glory days. I love the way the ice cubes clink against the glass as they shift with the level of my cocktail. I love the sweet skunky sativa when it’s been a long week, and a friend happens to stop in with the smelliest shit in the world. The way the fog forms above me and my thoughts flow free, it inspires my artwork. Intoxication is my muse, and I love her and everything she represents.

I love the outdoors. The sun, the wind, the rain. I love the elements as they grace my presence and tantalize me with their allure. I could spend all afternoon on a blanket in a meadow, watching the clouds drift by. Butterflies making their way past me, the song of a meadowlark, the gradient lighting as the clouds drift by the sun. Sometimes it can be by a lake, or river, or stream. Sometimes it can be in the high desert or the pinion forest, or in a canyon sun baked on the rocks like the uncountable lizards that inhabit the area. I love the outdoors.

There are a million more things I love; more than I can list here, that is for certain. But this seems like a great place to wrap this up. I love almost everything, but here are highlighted for you some of the things I am most passionate about. Enough about me, how about you? What are some of the things you love the most?