Category Archives: Art

That Guy

Over the years, I take to notebook and write humor or sketch comedy, in order to process my observations and emotional pains.  I have been constantly reaffirmed in repetitive mental cycles, and actions; especially when it comes to my ability to try and function in a relationship.

I have the type of mind that fixates on certain things that make me uncomfortable.  The more I fixate, the further I want to run away from the fixation.  A very  Dolittlian “push-me-pull-you” situation.  

People are funny like that, and I am no exception.  So, to humor you, through my dysfunction, I bring you this short sketch that I wrote sixteen years ago.  I think it’s funny because, I still struggle (almost two decades later) with the same intimacy emotional issue, I was dealing with then.

Silly Human, when will you learn?

And now, I present you with “That Guy.”

 

That Guy

Lisa and Brian are set up by their mutual friend, Megan.  Lisa and Megan are on the phone, “pre-date.”

Lisa:  Megan, he sounds really great!  It sounds like we have a lot of the same interests, and I totally trust your judgement in the looks department.

Megan: Oh, you are just going to fall in love with him!  I’m sure of it!  So, where are you two going for dinner?

Lisa:  I didn’t tell you?  Ohmygosh… we both LOVE the same restaurant, Luigi’s!  So, that choice was a no brainer.

Megan:  Oh, you are going to have the best date!  I am so excited for you!  It looks like it’s getting around that time, I should let you go get ready.

Lisa: Good idea!  Talk to you later?

Megan: Yes!  Call me as soon as you get in!

Brian is at Lisa’s door at 5:30, on the dot.  Flowers in hand, he looks very presentable and gentleman-like.

(door-bell)

Lisa:  (opens door) Hey, you must be Brian!

Brian: (speaks at the same time)  Hey, I am Brian!  (they giggle) I brought you these.

Lisa: Tigerlillies!  Those are my favorite flower!  How did you know?

Brian: I guessed.

Lisa:  Let me put these in water, and then we can go.  Megan told me quite a bit about you Brian, I think we are going to have a wonderful time!

(In the car, driving to dinner)

Brian: Yeah, me too.  Wow, we really do have a lot in common.

Lisa:  It’s awesome that you love snorkeling, too!

Now we focus on Lisa’s internal dialog.

Lisa:  Oh man, Megan was right!  We do get along great… and he is SO CUTE!

Brian:  I am planning a group trip in August…

Brian switches to a new lane, and neglects to turn his signal off.  Lisa notices quickly but doesn’t say anything.

Lisa: Okay, he just switched lanes, and his signal is still on…. it doesn’t look like he is going to go over any further.  I wonder why he doesn’t notice his signal is still blinking.  Hmmm, maybe it’s just because he talking to me right now.  Or maybe he is just really focused on the road and our conversation… he must not hear that annoying click-click sound.  It’s cool, though, right?  I mean it’s probably to early to tell, but what if he is THE ONE?  He has so much ambition, and energy…

Brian: So have you ever been the Cayman Islands?

Lisa: No, but good snorkeling, huh?

Brian: Oh just beautiful!  I also love to go to….

Lisa: It’s STILL going.  Click-Click, Click-CLICK.  How could anyone ignore that?  He must be distracted.  Even though he is driving, he is looking at me a lot… and smiling.  I should just tell him it’s on.  It’s not a big deal.

Lisa: HeyBrian, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but your signal is on.

Brian: Oh, hey, would you look at that.  So I am pretty excited for Luigi’s.  (turns off the signal.)

Lisa: Me too.  It’s been a while since I was there last.

Lisa: I really can’t believe out of all the restaurants in the area, that we love the same one.  He really is pretty great.

Brian proceeds to make another turn, his signal stays on.

Brian:  Have you ever had the Luigi’s Special?

Lisa: No, I usually stick to the lasagnas… what is it?

Brian:  It’s a sampler pasta dish.

Lisa:  This guy is really not in-tune with his signals.  He has a great personality, good looks; but he is THAT GUY!  I hate THAT GUY, especially when I am behind him in traffic.  THAT GUY who ignores that his blinker just keeps blinking, even though he isn’t changing lanes, or making a turn.  CLICK-CLICK, CLICK-CLICK. …. Maybe I am over reacting. Am I over reacting?

Lisa is becoming visibly aggitated.

Lisa: Brian, can you please turn off your turn signal?

Brian:  I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize it was on again.

Brian makes yet another turn, signal is on, the car is silent but for the CLICK-CLICKING.

Lisa:  Is he deaf?  I can’t believe this is happening the entire way on a 15 minute car ride… IT’S STILL GOING.  What if he never turns it off?  Constant click-clicking.  Imagine our future family road trips across America, state after state, highway after bywaylane change after lane change: those blinkers slowly blinking until 

Lisa:  (blurts out loud)  I don’t think we should see each other any more!

Brian: Excuse me, but what?

Lisa: I think you should just take me home.

Brian: But I thought we were having a good time. I thought we were getting along?

Lisa: We were.  I was was… Listen, I think you are  really nice guy… but you are also “THAT GUY.”

Brian: What do you mean, “THAT GUY”?

Lisa is visibly flustered, and starting to react with panic.

Lisa: You know… you know… “THAT GUY”!  THAT GUY  WHO DOESN’T TURN OFF HIS TURN SIGNAL AFTER HE CHANGES LANES-GUY.  I MEAN, EVEN NOW, YOUR SIGNAL IS ON!

Brian:  I’m sorry, I had no idea it was such a big deal.  I mean, sure every now and again I forget to turn it off… but really, you don’t even want to finish the date?  I promise, I will be more aware of the signal.  I won’t do it again.

Brian proceeds to make another lane change while talking… yet again leaving the signal on.  Lisa waits, her patience obviously slipping away.  She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, staring obviously at the offending turn signal knob.

Lisa:  Here we go again… even after he promises he wouldn’t let it go like that.  Is he fucking with my head right now?  Is this some stupid test?

Lisa waits, she sighs loudly, her face wrought in disgust.  She sighs again.

Lisa:  You are doing it, AGAIN.  See, I told you.  You are “THAT GUY”!

Brian:  What?!?  No!  That’s not fair.. you didn’t give me any time.

Lisa: (getting dramatic now) There was an ample thirty seconds, there… half a minute!  It only takes a second to turn it off.   I really need you just to pull over right now… You know, Brian, this really pains me.  You really do seem like a wonderful, sweet, attractive man.  However, I really can’t handle being in a car with THAT GUY who won’t take a second to make sure his turn signal is off, when he isn’t turning or changing lanes.  If there is one thing in the world that REALLY gets my goat, it’s THAT GUY.  So please, just pull over and put me out of misery.  Right now I need the stability that my transportation will not blink, or CLICK-CLICK unless it is turning or changing lanes, or pulled over with the hazards on…. and it appears to me that right now, Public Transportation holds that stability for me.  Good-bye.

Lisa gets out of the car and walks to a near by Bus Station.  Brian looks at a loss.

Brian:  Okay???

Lisa gets home and rings Megan up on the phone.

Megan: Hey, what’s up?  It’s early, what are you doing home?

Lisa: It didn’t work out.  The date started out nice enough…

Megan:  But…?

Lisa:  But he is THAT GUY who never turns his signal off after changing lanes.

Megan: Oh, Lisa!  I am so sorry!  I didn’t know…

Lisa:  I know!  Why does it seem like all the GOOD ONES are either married, gay, or THAT GUY?

In 2005, Lisa learned she has a condition called Misophonia, that causes her to be triggered into agitation by certain sounds.  She is currently an active member of Misophonics Anonymous.  In 2012 she launched the worlds first dating site geared toward pairing Misophonic people together, who suffer with compatible triggers.  A passionate en-devour, built in hope of helping others find intimacy as they cope with their sensitive condition.   A year later she met Dan, a 34 year old Misophonic engineer from Indiana.  He developed a turn signal system that automatically shuts off immediately after a turn or a lane change.    Lisa and Dan, love to road trip across America, and they are expecting their first child in February 2017.  Lisa says, she hopes her children are born without the burden of Misophonia, but if they are, she will love them anyway and help them with the hurdles the condition imposes.  

 

 

 

Harsh Reality

Life is not like the movies.

Even if you dye your hair pink and feel death permeating from the beach, where you look at crab shells masticated by sand mites; and you pause to reflect on the symmetry of the sunset.

It may remind you of some movie where the heroine shouts about her love to the sky, and moments later her lover appears.  This looks, so much like that scene.

But even if I yelled, right now; no one would show up, and the only people who would hear me would be the family, over yonder, taking part in a clam bake.

Even at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter how the setting sun reflects off the ocean.

I am the movie, I am the cinematography, I am the director… and it appears the cast and scenes seem to have a mind of their own.

We will each internally edit the scene according to our disposition and desire to keep certain elements sacred.

Later, we will screen our selective memories on those most close or dear… Hoping to satiate some neglected space in the Soul.

 

 

Letters of Annoyance.

Dear Bag in a Tree;

Hey YOU, Bag in a Tree, blowing obnoxiously in the midnight wind.  You have been annoying the shit out of me for the last four months.  Enough is ENOUGH!!

I know, I know; when you finally deteriorate some other, NEWER, MORE ANNOYING breed of bag will take your place.

Could you please just leave me alone for tonight? If you do, I promise  I will refrain from lighting the whole goddamn tree on fire.

Signed-  The lady on the other side of the window

 

Dear Guy Working on the Light Pole,

Hey there, Guy Working on the Light Pole.  I really appreciate your service to our electrical grid and all, but FUCK YOU for staring inside my bathroom window while I was taking a shit.  Your job is to fix the goddamn power line, and it would behoove you to keep your eyes on the job and OUT of my bathroom.

Sincerely~ Mr. Shitz  Apt 3D

 

Dear Crazy Raking Neighbor Lady;

I’m not sure if you noticed, but alleyways are always a mess.   The wind blows trash here from Indonesia.  It’s nice that you want to keep YOUR section of the alley clean; but if you’re going to go so far as to RAKE the ROAD, maybe you should go so far as to clean the WHOLE block of alley you live on.

Thanks,  Your Confused Yet Observant AlleyWay Neighbor

 

Dear Nasty Cashier Lady;

Did you ever think that maybe your job sucks because your attitude sucks?  Get over it and put a goddamn smile on your sourpuss face.  Shopping is stressful enough without a GRAND FINALE- such as your condescending flair, in the check out line.  Here is a tip; CHECK YOURSELF.

-Anonymous Coward

 

Dear Little Old Person in the Car Ahead of Me;

I know you’re old and value what you have left of your independence, but, Dude… You can’t even see over the steering wheel!!  Your “freedom of mobility” is compromising the safety of others.

Now listen, I respect  your wisdom as an elder, but at this point in time you seem to show bad judgement when it comes to operating heavy machinery.  Due to this issue alone,  I suggest you immediately surrender your license and bribe a legally licensed grand kid to cart you around.

-Concerned Citizen/ Defensive Driver

Unapproachable

Words and empty glasses

Empty hallways

Minds full of conversation and argument

Dissonance despite removed cobwebs

Depth of feeling, kept to quiet corners of busy minds

Because questions take too much time to ask,

And too much thought to answer

So, it goes, down that brown road bound with a load of unspeakables

Why did I cry?

No voices care to ask, in drunken silent nights,

Where background noise plays precedents in  pounding eardrums

Speaking only of intimacies enticing intertwine through some flesh

Divine with Nudity

The Mind though, and the Heart; The Body of this Self

Not so intertwined in Divine Divinity, in that moment

Still writhing with expectations of innocence.

So plays out that old game.

For perceptions of pleasure and intent are squandered

A disillusion through the fine filter of Experience

So, and still, caught in the past

A cycle recycled

A writing of turmoil inside from the Unspeakable.

Avoidance and You clumsily stumble to sleep alone.

And I stay awake, and continue to question.

An Open Letter To All the People Who Wonder Why I Shy Away From Intimacy

Dear Loved Ones,  those I continually shy away from emotionally and physically.  To those I have run away from, and have run away from me;

I apologize that at times I can’t seem to escape the nauseating feeling that builds in me when I come into contact with physical intimacy; whether it be between parents and children or lovers and friends.  I find it hard to watch; to stomach the outward affection people are able to show toward one another.  I don’t quite understand it, but I crave it.

I find myself caught in a steady state of loneliness, confusion and hopelessness, that I will never be able to “feel” and express “feeling” like others seem so comfortable doing.  Something in my second nature has atrophied.  Will I ever be able to truly share and savor those aspects of emotional camaraderie, that should come with love and intimacy?  The seemingly one thing, keeping me chained to isolation caught in stagnant aspects of my emotional world.

I often cringe away from physical touch, as a completely unconscious response; I find myself jump in surprise when touched affectionately.  I find this to be upsetting for both parties.  This leaves me further feeling untouchable, misunderstood and lonelier, still.

This is not a matter of not wanting to be touched at all, but rather, I do remember that I like to be touched.  The ability to be touched starts in my brain.  I don’t just go around touching people, and people certainly don’t just go around touching me.  I have spent more of my life being untouched, than touched.   I don’t have normal daily excretions of Oxytocin.  I get a good hug in, every few months.  Seasonal hugging.  In my mind, I think, if I could just surrender, then I know I would want to be held forever.  But, for some reason that cognitive dissonance sets in and I can not surrender.

Everyone knows about the wall around my heart, and some even believe that they themselves, are enough to beat it down.  No one wants to break it down together, and I am not just going to give hammers out, willy-nilly, with out at least being able to supervise the progress.

The ability for me to start to surrender,will always be, when I feel a foundation of trust. I need to know that I won’t be left to the wolves again, by this obvious distraction that exists within my brain spaces.  I don’t need extra isolation, I can provide that plenty on my own.  I don’t need harsh emotional critics, I have that covered as well.

I would be happy enough with compassion and understanding.

 

 

Photography courtesy of Pat Kight.

 

 

 

Richard Johnson, Renegade Politician Pt. 2

(If you missed part one, CLICK HERE)

Like Neo in the Matrix; Richard is well aware that many people like the idea of being in the (political) game, and most of them agree to the rules already in place. In that knowing, there is systemic conformity of illusions that this guy seems to be willing to entangle with for the sake of curiosity of his own logical power and the power of the logical people.
Richards greatest power is his broad range of interests, and his ability to speak for the under spoken and disenfranchised.

He is highly researched in history; wars, and all topics relating to social study. His own inquisitive and rebellious nature gives him inquisition into laws, ordinances and how governments influence societies.
Rich has had more than one friend who has been homeless, and seemingly lost in hopeless drug problems. He cares about people and quality of life, but not in mainstream “One Up Your Neighbor with Meaningless BS for The Sake of It” kind of way.

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He speaks kindly of Mayor Richard Kaysen, whom he has had the ability to get to know through these socio/political events. Rich appreciates Kaysen’s’ passion for children and veterans, he enjoys how Kaysen asserts his passion for these demographics publicly. Richard speaks out lovingly toward our current Mayor all while admitting that they agree to disagree on some of the finer points when it comes to things politically.
Perhaps an example of how Richard speaks for the underdog is that he knows a sub-community full of reformed felons; basically, people who did something stupid in their late teens and early twenties that they have since, and will continue to pay the price for with an unsavory label.

Individuals, who are now older, wiser, productive assets in our little society.

Individuals who now have kids that they care about.  Children whose futures matter, and are hopefully not lost in some stupid legal red tape that they can never cross.

Johnson makes a clear fact that certain labels come with a “keep out” sign when it applies to a voice in the voting booth.

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Richard has been the voice of the unspoken community of Cheyenne, and the greater state of Wyoming by going to local business’ and public hangouts in order to petition for Medical Cannabis.

His ability to get signatures was some what squashed by the fact that those who would like a vote on the Medical Cannabis platform, are unable to, because of said previous felony status.

You know what? The only people I represent are the people who never had a fucking voice, ever. And literally, yesterday when I went and wrote (to the public) about what I stand for in my campaign ;  and it’s ‘no signs, no money, no this, no that,’ People, were like, ‘shit, I don’t know if I would really support you for Mayor, but Jesus Christ, did you read my fucking mind when you wrote that shit?’

People are pissed…but you know the (one) thing that sucks is, I would have a lot more voters if felons were allowed to vote. When I was doing the Medical petition and I went to the tattoo parlor, I was like ‘ Ah shit, I will probably clean house! Probably get 50- 60 signatures,’ and yet everyone had to turn me away because, everyone was a fucking felon.

So literally everyone I hang out with.

 I said it in the debate for City Council, ‘Where do you get your feedback from?’

I get it from felons…ya know? People who usually screwed up sometime between 18 and 25, and now they are paying for it…and they can’t vote for me because of something they fucked up in the past.

I mean who would have thought that I would be the candidate to work with the police the most? I talk to the Chief of Police, every week. I never would have thought that.”

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Richard speaks well of Chief Kozak, and how he has done great things for the police force and the city of Cheyenne.  Rich was empathetic toward Kozaks’ desire to get hired closer to his family in Minnesota while simultaneously being glad that we get to keep the Chief for a while longer.

Johnsons’ greatest fear with the transfer of  Kozak, being that Kozak, would be replaced with a person who is “a cop first and foremost” running with a “good ole boy” mentality, stuck on archaic laws and ways of asserting them.

According to Rich, Kozak comes across as a family man who is interested most in serving the safety and well being of this town; willing to work with various individuals and entities in order to do the job well.
I have a great Chief of Police. I couldn’t ask for a better one. He listens to me when I speak, and together we are looking at (the laws and ordinances for) spitting, weapons, chickens, electric fences, and food trucks…

I have to work with the police… so I have to ask ‘ okay, what do you do?’ And I told them, I know Wyoming is in a budgetary crunch, so when I go to Kozak, I ask ‘ What do you need me to do, to make you and your guys’ lives easier; with the resources we have, and maybe, actually solve some crime?’
Richard wants to seek out the weak spots as a community and fix them, or at least call them out so they can be put on a path to fixing. He notices that we have plenty of “fluff laws”… just words in a book, ready to be used by lawyers in the right situation… however many are no longer enforced due to stipulations within certain licenses and ordinances.
Recently Rich attacked the broad legal definition of “weapon”; siting to Kozak that one can legally walk around the State with a 9mm, but brass knuckles and pocket knives were subject to citation. Meanwhile, in this argument, Johnson has been fed some backlash by those who believe the language will somehow save their loved ones; to which Rich responds;
“This is what I literally wrote to Kozak when I brought up this weapons thing…

I was like ‘ I can carry a 9mm anywhere I want to go, in the state of Wyoming; but if I have brass knuckles or a knife in my pocket… I can get a citation?

I asked, ‘how the hell is that right? If I have a gun… am I not at the top of the fucking food chain? What’s in my pocket, doesn’t fucking matter.

And then another councilman brought up that I am putting his wife in danger because of my desire to repel all this language on weapons. He said “Richard, my kids, and my wife might be in danger because some kid might have brass knuckles in their pocket… and that puts them in danger.”

And I am like, ‘ here is the thing, let’s take the nursery rhyme about schools and books and pencils and dirty looks’.

I could take a sharpened pencil and stab you in the fucking throat, or I could take a textbook, (if kids even use textbooks anymore… most likely a tablet,) but I could take a tablet and smash your fucking face. And, so, that is blunt force trauma and injury from a stabbing utensil… but guess what? I am not repealing assault and battery.

If I assault someone, it doesn’t matter what I use; it’s still assault and battery. If you get an assault charge, what matter does it make, what utensil you used?”
Richard Johnson appears to be logically taking language into consideration when it comes to real-life situations regarding the law. He is actively working with law enforcement to make laws more accessible to the community, all while challenging the establishment, in one broad, albeit a rather non-threatening swoop.
I make a mental question as to why anyone is complaining or refuting his stance in a primarily Republican state that likes to keep the law at bay.

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Many of Wyoming’s citizens are hands-off when it comes to delving in legal matters; unless absolutely necessary.

Richard is directly attacking those issues with his own confrontational questions and comparisons. These seemingly inane issues have become very relevant, given his close interaction with people who have criminal records. People in our own community that would like to get on with their lives as productive people.
A highlight of one of Rich’s recent trips landed him in a five-story museum dedicated solely to weapons and their use through time. He was able to see, historically, how people have used the most rudimentary and accessible items, to create weapons meant to hurt another human. Whether a pointed stick; a rock tied to a stick, a backpack of shrapnel and marbles in a pressure cooker all the way to drones and laser-guided missiles; one doesn’t have to seek out a license or distributor of “weapons”, in order to create destruction… language isn’t going to change that.

What matters most; is holding those who do harm, accountable for their actions. Richard then reminds me of the Oklahoma City bombing that was the byproduct of a fertilizer explosion in a rented van.

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The internet is rife with content, and one need not venture out to the local library, anymore, for a copy of the Anarchist Cookbook. Every avenue of destruction a vengeful being may seek is right at their fingertips.
“You should be a little afraid of what you are seeing. Outward appearances are everything. I wear a costume, people don’t think it’s a costume but it’s a costume to wear a fucking suit. But people say that is what you have to do to be taken seriously. You wear a fucking suit.”

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Richard Johnson puts the suit on when required, and to a certain degree, I am sure he is afraid of it.

Afraid that it will have power over him much like the Stanford Prison Experiments had over those students back in 1971… where the lives of some kids changed quickly and forever, based on some uniforms and supposed labels of positions of authority.

Quite simply put, a series of imposed labels, aligned expectations, and illusions. This seems to be one of the ways our local representative Richard Johnson, is peeling back the layers of the onion that is our own micro Matrix.

When Words Signal the End

When suffering from depression, or mental illness; it can be very hard to live in domestic partnerships.  This is especially true, when the partner of the sufferer, has no interest in gaining coping skills to off set some of the dramatic emotional upheavals that are bound to occur.

We don’t plan our depressions; it can take years and years of self awareness to pin point all the potential triggers, as often times they tend to be more subconscious programs.  Dates, places, and phrases can, and often times, will set off a new bout of despair.

When the despair hits, it leads to an overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood, and alienated.  These feelings amplify self criticism; making the already annoying self critical response clock in off the charts.  A pervasive weight of ” I can do nothing right.” and “It’s all my fault.”

The thoughts and feelings that you may have had on “good days” now are second guessed and reduced to illusion.  That voice of illusion, says “No one really loves you.  No one ever will.”

It’s hard not to feel crazy when logic and emotion collide in the confusion of depression.

This is a piece I wrote while in a domestic partnership, that led me to spending a night in jail for domestic violence.  I started attending drug, alcohol, and domestic abuse classes for court.

Many times through the 7 months that I attended, I asked my partner to come with me; as I felt they were sharing a lot of useful information.  I also thought it would put  us on the same page, so that we could move forward, together.

However, he was not interested in those classes; which said to me, he didn’t really care about Us.  It broke my heart, and inevitably we split up.  For years, I wondered, “what if?  What if he was invested in my desire to get better? ”

I have since had to move on from that, and accept where I am, and who I am today.  I know that not just any one can handle the unforeseen upsets of the future.  It will require strength, patience, and cooperation.

When Words Signal the End.

This frustration builds. This love, a lie. And I am burning for more than this disappointment.

I am yearning for more than this fear of abandonment.

Alone with these thoughts and feeling, despite the activity around me; this soul is closed. All the doors are closed.

We can’t communicate. You say my reality isn’t valid.

It really isn’t yours to judge, but you do; constantly.

You blame me for being some fucked up artist.

It isn’t that, at all.

Can’t you see, sometimes we are both wrong.

No. You control. You blame. Nothing changes.

You bribe the master, waiving possibilities in my face. Nothing is ever manifest; it finds itself as watered down truths, dripping lies from your lips.

I am down, because you keep me there.

I am mad, because you show you care, in the most fucked up ways.

Days later, you apologize; so we keep riding the storm.

Love borne Hate. Emancipation is evident. All of this too late.

I am debating my hate; trying to hold my love, but I am drowning.

It’s astounding to watch from the wings, as I take swings at your face.

Wasting time, like it’s easy to buy; when really it’s hard to replace.

I want for you to show me something real; but the wheel of life turns and this heart burns with heartache.

Love is a dish best served cold, old and mouldy upon a paper plate. Swarming with fly larvae,

It isn’t tangible; it causes vertigo as my brain starts to go south.

My mouth a cesspool of verbs and curving words; they slice like a knife, through this paper flesh.

Should I regret this venture?

It’s too late, this path paved with good intentions, gone awry.

The repetitive question; Why, why, why me?

Why this mess? Why?

I confess; I am the mess. I am the beast with talon feet. I am the rage and the endless sadness. The builder of madness and tears that never seem to dry.

I try, but you call me the catalyst… The baddest bitch, you know.

Blow by blow your words knock me down, and add to the scowling.

Sweet inner child caught in the frowning, forgetting recollections; the brief reflections of innocence.

I am just an artist, with nothing to show; but a hole in my head where I’ve let these words go.

I Make Hats.

elfhatI make hats.

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I make hats, like masters of clay, sculpt. I pick up a skein of yarn, and it speaks to me. I don’t over think it. I let the colors mash themselves into masterpieces. I make hats.

pinkbowfuzz

I make hats for those people who love a splash of color against the Pacific Northwest sky. I make hats warm enough for a cold night in Vail. I make unique hats, no one else will have.

I make hats, with out patterns. I make hats by accident. I make hats with the same sincere carefree nature, that I do with my paintings, or my writing.

blueberet hat

I make soft hats. Warm hats. Hats for any time of the year. I make hats because the head is a nice place for accessories, especially when they have a function… or two, or three.

Some of my hats can be worn more than one way, or serve more than one purpose. It depends on the hat. I only make one of a kind hats. No two will ever be exactly the same.

I make hats as a warm expression. A bold statement on a dreary day, or a compliment to a colorful sky; my hats speak to the uniqueness of the individual wearing it. My hats are pretty rad.

bearhat

A letter to Illusive Divinity

Dear Angels and Ascended Masters,

Blessings to YOU, Dear Ones, of Illusive Nature and yet Who speak to Us in metaphors about the Nature of Illusion.

NOW is the TIME when WE grow WEARY of Your Illusive Illusions of this Delusion We live in. 

NOW is the TIME when WE CALL TO YOU DIRECTLY, and ASK with great DESIRE and CONCERN to Speak, NOW, to Us in easily understood terminology.

We have been swayed by the loops and somewhat vague nature of your messages.  Each mind, interpreting each message in their own way. Each wondering if they have done enough… if they will make it into Heavens embrace, to see the face of the Creator.

The singular I that IS, has grown weary, time and time again.  These cycles of Ascension are tedious and at times very confusing.  It is in those moments, I need the most simple and clear answers in order to allay my own Mortal attitudes.

As these cycles continue in their intensity, I find myself void of such answers.  The Heavenly call to submit, and surrender, leaves me wondering if I am better off just laying in bed.  For that feels like surrender.  And yet in the same notes You can recommend we continue with our daily tasks in knowing the time is neigh.

I know, I do not speak of just the I that IS, when I bring attention to the many of Us who have felt an inability to start long term projects, and at times even finishing projects that were already started meant for the long term.  You have asked us to Live with two feet on Earth, and our heads in sights of Heaven.

Perhaps you are truly unaware of how uncomfortable this can be for many reasons.  However, it is, and it is disconcerting.  By no means, am I that IS, telling You how or when to do Your job, as that would just be silly… However I that IS, calls to you for less metaphor and more direct lines of communication.

I that IS, understands that You speak in a language of Love, and Compassion allowing Us to wander toward Our own conclusions.  And that is all in the cycle and movement of the soul.  However, the I that IS, is ready for her judgment, as She is tired of judging herself and others.  She IS anxious in awaiting Her call, perhaps a little afraid that if it comes, at the end of the line will be rejection… that is IF She even gets called at all.

The I that IS, is calling for divine intervention in those who are feeling the same way, but Heaven has already set them a place.  May those who will be invited through the gates, be hand delivered their invitations from Divinity.  Please, expedite this request through the proper channels.

The I that IS, appreciates all You do for Us, and thanks You greatly for the messages you are able to share.  May this letter be taken into consideration, as a gift of acknowledgement from the I that IS of the Faith of a Child.

Sincerely,

The I that IS