Easy come Easy go

The constant shuffle of this world is one that requests our undivided attention and ever evolving flexibility.
People come and go at their own pace. It must be accepted that they will and do as they please.
We are each granted that gift.
No need to tarry when direction is evident.
Assimilation of lessons is fast when recognition is made at the soonest point of action.
One step in front of the next. Leads one closer to certain destinations and farther from others. This is the way we live, this is the way we move.
At some point it is asked that roots be made, that growth up and down coincide.
That flexibility comes from the branches rather from aimless tumbling.
I will tumble until I find the grove of my admiration. A spot worth rooting in.

Once Upon an Abscess.

Once upon a time, a bad nasty thing happened between this girl and some guy. They once were madly in love, but then the ruins of Truth set it… it was a pheromone attraction full of lessons in abandonment and respect. All escalating in to a night neither would forget, but he would never mention… and I, well, I would use it as a good bar room ice breaker.

The night in question, was tinged in inebriation. As sometimes things go, an after work cocktail poured strong, and a long conversation with a co-worker, biding time as to not go home to an angry beau. One drink turned to three, before I felt the need to leave.

The drive felt so sober. I obeyed all the laws, and pull up next to our lawn, it was about 2 in the morning. I left the lights on in the car, and opened the door, when a blue suit pulls up. He questions me about my connection to the car, smells liquor on my breath and issues a sobriety test. I fail to spell my own last name correctly… luckily he is easy on me, unable to prove I was driving.

The beau of my home exits, and admits this is my residence, the police bid me good night, and warn to stay inside. Then my “lover” walks me to the threshold. He tells me to sleep on the couch, disappointed in my behavior. I am warned not to bother this one who is to wake up early. I lay on the couch, somewhat blacked out and all I can guess is my contacts needed removal, and my bladder needed empty, but when I enter the bathroom, he yells at me “TO LAY DOWN OR I WILL LAY YOU DOWN” but none of that is on the 911 call.

Somehow, some way, this starts a brawl. I hold on to his hair tightly, afraid he will hit me, and all is a tussle until he pulls away. Tufts of hair lay on the carpets and on the tile. It gets crazy, and the dog goes wild. My man says, I need to leave, but not in my car, not with my keys. He says he is going to pull the plugs, and I am raging, blacked out and dumb. I pull at his shirt and boxers in the January rain, I fall of the stoop and he stumbles onto my face.

I crunch, my nose, broken, eye sockets shocked. I am bleeding and he retreats to the house, locking me out. Picks up the phone, dials 9-1-1, and this is when the fun really starts. I am pounding on the double pane window, asking to be let in. My eyes are swelling, and there is blood on my chin. I am scared, adrenaline filled, I know someone will go to jail. Eventually that pounding on the window is enough to break both panes. Glass dispersed, and yet a piece remains.

In my chest. the side of my left breast, over my heart. The last shard of all of that chaos and love. Somehow since 2005, that tiny piece of glass has survived in my tissue, and now it is starting to abscess. I am ready to get rid of this last piece of him and me. Tucked ever so violently in to a sacred place. His face I only see in dreams.

I hope he is on a path with truth and love, I hope he understands what we both have done, and is working at becoming a better man. I know daily I strive to be a better woman, and a better lover, to consciously enter into communication.

So as this wound sort of blisters and breaks, I take back a piece of my heart that was breaking for him, and all of our mutual sins. Final stages of healing bring me free wheeling into my personal reality, it’s finally good to be home.

Rescinded Friendship Memo

This memo is to clarify and address the matters of friendship and the basis in which to rescind said friendship.

Friendship is an equal exchange opportunity. By accepting said friendship you accept and comply within the usages of integrity, trust, and support. You also commit to clear communication and clarification of mis-communications.

It is decided on the friends how strong, or deep said friendship shall be. However, these things must be continually communicated through the course of friendship as situations and life paths change and evolve.

It is asked that when the dissolution orĀ  the rescind of friendship is enacted, a clear verbal or written notice be issued to all friends involved, as each one of them deserves an ample warning of change in status.

If after Rescindment notification is posted, there are any questions or concerns from the left over parties, they have one week to state their issues with the “de”friend-er.

If you have been “un-friend-ed” remember, it was probably them, and not you.

However, if you have been “unfriended” by me, then it’s defiantly you.

Why you gotta do me like that, Myspace Mail?

Some thoughts are absolutely brilliant, well executed and ready to read. Paragraphs were formed, and placed with utter perfection, (in my mind.)on screen. And just when all is said and done, wrapped in the portable package of email… sent button pressed…. it loads the page, and says return to in box… but once checked, it was never sent. By the time it is realized, all is lost. Damn it! There are a few of you who have been the victims of unreceived emails…. dial up connections are lame. I will get them to you in a cohesive sense, as soon as my brain starts working again.

P.S. I have PMS it could be a week or so.


When asked where I want to go
I only know that I seek to someday be
a master
A master of my mind, my body,
my emotions, and my senses
To really know what “zen” is
To be a CEO or a “owner” doesn’t thrill me
The martyr within would rather be killed
I only know I won’t sell myself short
if this plan I choose not to abort
of a Spiritual sister
My spirit is merely my body sitter
so in the case of material possession
intellect and reasoning
this path may seem obscure and unreal
but it’s the feeling in my heart
that takes me there
to a place of contentment and realization
A master is not easily persuaded,
so consciousness and patience is the lesson
it is the vibrant ethereal collision of existence

Direct from my Mandiefestation book, My WANTED Ad.

Long term Lover on my terms
Conscious Creative 20-something Female SEEKING like minded 25-30 something Mate.
Must be responsible with child-like wonder. Please be able to offer hugs, long back massages, and space.
Looking for self-confident creative individual who understands both balance for personal needs and passion for partnership.
Inspiration, heady love, and late night cuddle/conversation-fests are a MUST! Please be an enjoy-er of nature, art, and spontaneous activity. Plans are also fun.
Co-dependent path stealer’s need not apply.
I can not pay much more than attention, gratitude, and encouragement…but all is offered up!
Only seekers of equal oppertunity exchange are asked to apply!

Taking Month to month Sugar Daddy Applications, NOW!

Do you ever wish you could just DO WHAT YOU WANT TO, with out the worry of money, or time spent. Do you wish, SOME ONE else would fund the adventure that is your life? Are you SICK of “regular 9-5” type gigs, and wasting all of your creative energy on SOMEONE Else’s livelihood.
I wish there was a month to month Sugar daddy service. A place where I set all the demands, and he just keeps giving. Time, money, space. All of it is vital. Some people would buy blow and snort themselves to oblivion. Some would buy ugly hooker clothes, that they refer to as “high end, and exotic.”
I would go to the art store. I would buy a shit ton of supplies. I would even invite said “Sugar daddy” along. Perhaps he want’s a painting of his own.
I would paint until I was tired in the arms.
Then I would go to find a publisher, and I would give them a manuscript. “SD” would pay to have it pressed and bound, distributed and available.
After that I would set up a beautiful costume closet and a great big green room with wonderful lighting. I would put on an amazing performance and invite all of my friends and neighbors.
It’s usually a curse that a girl can’t pick her sugar daddy. He picks her. But if there was an application process, I could pick mine. He would be handsome, conscious and available. I would want to spend time with him because he lifts the creative process, instead of hindering it. He would be invited to hang out, because he would be joyful to have around.
He would give me the attention I want and the space I need. He would be happy to throw his cash toward being a patron of the arts. This would seem useful, and I would be a tool that not only utilizes his bankbook in creative and helpful ways, but also a window to a world not yet realized.
Of course this is ideal.
And we all know I am an idealist. And this is no modern day fairy tale.
There is no excuse for this able bodied woman to not earn her own keep. I am empowered, and yet I would rather not eat in this moment than drain what energy I do have into works that are no longer fulfilling to me.
I am seeking a spiritual answer, and everyday I think I am on the brink, that it will all break free and change. No need for the dependence of another to bare the cross that is my own to bare.
Honestly I feel as if everything is falling apart at the seams. I am barely surviving. And honestly, there is no other excuse than I feel like “a normal job” isn’t what I am here for. Nothing will ever change until we change it, but something needs to change for me before the season does. In the midst of warmth, all is well. But when the cool air of winter in the mountains starts to blow, quite frankly, I am fuckin’ screwed.
I have a high faith in things being the way they are right now, but I think Claddagh would disagree.
So for those who know, and know to care, I am following my heart. It’s what I feel I need to do, and even I feel like a bit of a fool for my inability to see farther ahead to know exactly what effect this is going to have, I am going to keep keepin’ on.
Though now I am back to owing dues, and that sickens me.
I smile and say I am surviving, but it feels like the tide is coming in, and that drowning feeling is setting in. I need relief and just a little help, and I can’t ask so I’m not really helping myself.
Just another turn around the bend, just another day I am trying not to pretend.

A portal of inner exploration

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