Cobwebs

I want to write an entry about how tired I am, and how cobwebby my brain is, but it would be a string of complaints with a few repitions thrown in for good measure, so I won't. Instead - I'll wander down memory lane....


I was 3. Or 4. Somewhere around that age, and I was going to pre-school while I stayed with my grandmoter so my mother could attend school. I was the only child there who could read, and thus I was assigned to help other kids learn how to read - or at least learn the alphabet. I was helping this one young boy, and rather than practice his letters he wanted to puff up his cheeks with air. I got SOOO frustrated with him that I did the simultaneous slap on both sides of his face to force the air out of his mouth. I was horrified/ashamed, the teacher was outraged, and the poor little boy was in tears. I was stood in the corner for what seemed like forever, but instead of treating it like a punishment I pretended I was at the movies. I was always a defiant little cuss. The only other thing I remember from that school was falling in the parking lot while I was waiting for my grandmother and skinning my knee.
That's the earliest memory that I have that I am certain that I actually remember. All of the earlier memories I've been told about enough to not be sure if I actually remember it, or if I simply think I do.
From there - the next thing I remember for sure was meeting my stepfather-to-be for the first time. He was fabulous with children, and I fell for him right away. We played with a teddy bear and a plastic fishbowl - turning him into an astronaut for me to play with. I was obsessed with constellations and stars at that point, and didn't know that my eyes would prevent me from ever setting eyes on true space. I was 5 then.
After that - the memories come thicker and closer together. I couldn't tell you however, where we lived or what I did during most of the years I was say - 7 to 11 . I remember where we lived part of the while I was 8 - we were back in my mom's hometown, and living in the house of my dead great-grandfather. I remember where we lived at and what we were doing when I was 13 mainly because that was the year I developed in 6 months. I can remember everything after 14 - not only because it's MUCH more recent, but also because I started school then.
I treasure the few memories that I have, because I can't remember much of my childhood. One of the downsides to being homeschooled is that there is no set schedule to fit my memeories too. I had no summer vacations, no rememberance of a certain grade I was in when something happened to link to. I have flashes of high points and low points and the rest fades away into a blur. My mother and I were talking a few days ago, and she mentioned some places that we had livd that I have TOTALLY no recollection of - and I would have been 10ish while we lived there, which is more than old enough to remember. Most times though, I'm glad that parts of it are a blur. Some of the parts I remember - mainly from the years I was 13/14 - were utterly miserable. Eh. I've grown past most of it, though sometimes I wonder if I should get a therapist just to spew & spill to and help me clean out some of my cobwebs. Actually - it's more that I want someone with authority to reassure me that I'm 'okay' in most ways...with no more quirks or inner issues than most people have.
I know I'm quirky - I just want to be confirmed as being acceptably quirky.

Drums

we justify war
with the constant reminders
of those already dead


Is it even possible anymore to avoid talking about war? Fear is slowly seeping into every segment of our lives, steady doses drip-drip-dripped into the IV of information that I find almost impossible to disconnect. I'm horrified at the callousness of some people. The same president who is rabidly against abortion (it stops a beating heart, ya know) is planning a bombing attack on a city the size of Los Angeles. Talk about hundreds of beating hearts that will come screeching to a halt - and they will be the innocent ones. Those in power are the main ones who have the ability to stay safe, to escape the area, and to end up alive when the bombing is over. See Bin Laden, Osama as a wonderful example of this.
And to use 9/11 (15 of the 19 hijackers were Saudi's by the way. None of them were Iraqis) as a 'reason' for war is to make the implied assumption that only American lives are worthy, because we plan on killing far more than 3,000 Iraqis. To use the Kurds as an example ignores the fact that the gas they died from came from Iran, and that they were in the middle of a war zone. Of course, we plan on killing far more innocents than 5,000 too. But they won't be American innocents - so why should it matter? I'm against the war because I'm for life, and that's all the reason I need.

---

I'm making plans for planting a garden this year. I live in an apartment, so that makes it a little more interesting, but I have a huge wood floored balcony. If we go to war, I'm going to need a place of peace to come home to, and greenery=peace for me. So far, I'm going to plant tomatoes, strawberries, turnips, catnip (can't forget the little ones), cucumbers, basil, thyme, mint, parseley, and summer squash. I might be over-extending myself a little, but I figure that if I plant just one or two plants of the spreaders, there should be plenty of room for the rest. I've never grown a garden of my own, and really - only once or twice helped grow a garden when I was younger. But gardens have always been a place of peace and serenity to me, and I miss having that in my life.
I went to my consultation with the tattoo artist yesterday to start work on the bing one. She appeared to think that what I wanted was a disticnt possibility, and I'm excited about that. I've also settled on what I want for my 'little' tattoo - a representation of the Element of Fire. I was considering getting something that was more part of who I am already, but something held me back from that. Last night it struck me that the thing I am missing (if you go by elemental descriptions) is Fire. I'm very well grounded/stable so that covers the realm of Earth. I'm intelligent and intuitive, which covers the realm of Air. I'm emotional (heaven knows) and comfortable with that - which covers the realm of Water. However, as I wrote in an earlier entry - I'm missing the Fire. I don't have that deepset blaze of passion and willpower - and it seems so appropiate to emphasize that. Now that I know what I want though, I don't WANT to wait until I lose another 20 pounds. I'm debating on getting it the week after my surgery - which would happen to be payday as well. Decisions, decisions.

Change

I hate to think that me losing weight was/is the catalyst for my changes lately. I'd much rather think that I've just been getting slowly fed up with my life/self as it has been, and it pushed me to a point where it only takes one more step to propell myself further towards where I want to be.
Lately, a line of poetry has been repeatedly running through my head:

when i can’t go
where i need to go
i will go somewhere near
and from there plan on how to get
where i need to be

That's what I'm doing now. I haven't really turned and looked into myself to try and figure out WHY I'm so stuck on not leaving for another year - but I'm willing to give myself the time. Something that is helping is this book . It's rather interesting, as I've never been a big one on self-help books. This book though - it's good. I like the exercises, and I like the way that she goes through it. Thus far, she's helped me confirm somethings about myself (including a potential source for my caution) and is helping me figure out that I don't HAVE to throw everything I have away to get what I truly want. So..I'd recommend it for anyone who doesn't think that they know what they want to do - or think they do know and don't know how to get to it.

That book has actaully deterred me from starting in with "The Artist's Way". I want to do one self-help bit at a time, and I think that I will need all of my focus and concentration as I go through that book. I'm looking forward to it though. I think once I finish TAW I will find a good help-yourself book on finances. I should keep this going as long as I can.

Poetry

:) I've gotten a couple of requests to post the poems from the word exercise I was working on.The words we had to use were:justify tryst glean virtuoso edema parting catalyze cat bell forbidden. I actually wrote two...I'm not sure which I like more, so I plan on reading them both.

the tryst

i enter our home
and glean omens as i approach you
the well polished glow of your meditation bell mirrors your worries
should i speak?
the cat hisses at you but twines through my legs
should i stay?
the edema shows in the plants that you insist on over-watering
should i push you this far?

i try
to forget that
you are
a virtuoso
with fingers and tongue
i try
to justify
the pendulum sway
of your moods

but the memory
of your
fist
hitting
my
face
catalyzes me
into ending
this tryst
by speaking
the words of parting
you have forbidden
but my soul demands.


eulogy

he died
of edema they tell me
the mountain finally claimed
the virtuoso who
conquered all but the
most forbidden peaks

he justified his trysts
with death
claiming they set him free
parting him from all
excess weight in his life
i suppose he meant
his children
his cat
me

though i tried
i could not catalyze
my love into
chains that would
hold him near

and now
i glean only
misery from the
tolling of bells
and the soft snow falling
in his honor

Words

So - after the amazing success of the little bit of poetry I spewed at the Poetry Reading - I agreed to return another time. At first, I thought - no, maybe not, but then I realized that networking is all about making connections with people you usually wouldn't interact with...in other words, I'm going back.

Our 'assignemnt' was to come up with a poem (or poems) using all of the following words:
justify tryst glean virtuoso edema parting catalyze cat bell forbidden

On first look, I thought the edema would be the hard word...after writing two poems, I've decided that as usual - it's the cat that causes problems.

But it's been fun - it makes it harder and easier to write. And it's shown me something else - that I can write without needing internal inspiration. I don't HAVE to be in a 'mood' if I have an exercise to work on - I use the exercise and the words to inspire a mood. Doing just this little bit has encouraged me even more to go out and get a copy of The Artist's Way the morning page thing is kinda scary - I hate getting up, and getting up early enough that I can write three journal pages - LONG HAND - is going to be interesting.
However, I look at it this way - I miss my art. I miss the creative child who wrote poetry and stories like it was nothing special. I miss being able to walk outside of my door and have images and scenes that just cry out to be photographed hit me.

So. Tonight (which is Corey's Coming to Town night!!!) I'm going to skip the gym. I'm going to go and get my nails done. I'm going to do a little shopping - especially in the Half-Price bookstore where I will hopefully find The Artist's Way - and then I'm going to go home, and read, and wait.

On Registering (Part 2)

Wonderful - I won't have to kill anyone at Target. Our whole registry has shown up, and this weekend (hook or crook) we are GOING to finish the rest of the registry. If I can get the new pictures of me developed, then our website will be done.
Please check it out and let me know what you think!! :) I need to get my mom to proofread it again - she so good at that kind of stuff.

I'm still debating the format for the "Family" Page. I want to do something - unique, but have yet to figure out how. Eh well.

The STD's are getting done this weekend too - Corey is going out Sat. night with his brother and one of his cousins, and I'm going to creep back to work and print out these blasted STD's. It's almost two weeks after I WANTED to send them out - but hey... I was most likely planning on sending them out too early anyhow. Of course, the fact that I don't have all the adresses (as I pick up the phone to fuss at my mother AGAIN) is kinda cutting into my plans.

:) But - on the good side - I haven't been having any creepy wedding dreams.

jasmyn

Aptitude

There are more jobs out there then I could ever hope to know - so how can I know which one is perfect for me?? I've been taking various aptitude tests and suchlike to try to figure out WHERE I might fit in. Most of them are either dreadfully obvious, or so vague I would be better off throwing a dart at a phone book to come up with a likely job. I often feel overwhelmed by the huge number of CHOICES out there. Almost literally - I can be/do anything!

I found an aptitude test today called the MAPP test - and reading over the conclusions they have drawn about me through my answers, it pretty darn accurate. Even my top pick job (social worker/family & children counselor) is something that I've often thought I would be good at - but I think I have too MUCH heart for that kind of job, and would be spiritually burntout in under a year. Besides, they don't get paid well enough. If I wanted to work in a heartbreaking job for pennies a year, I would have stayed at Spelman.

So... the other top ten options are:
Employment Interviewers
Teacher Assistants
English Language and Literature Teachers, Postsecondary
Foreign Language and Literature Teachers, Postsecondary
Educational, Vocational, and School Counselors
Residential Advisors
Public Address System and Other Announcers
Probation Officers and Correctional Treatment Specialists
Funeral Directors

The employment interviewer actually sounds rather interesting...and the funeral director is just a BIT more into the dead than I want to be.
The interesting part - and what I am going to go and talk to the career counseling people here about - is how to I market myself? I have a computer science degree. I've never done a THING that deals with anything OTHER than computer science (at least not on a professional level). I know that I have the skills, the aptitude, and the intelligence to do other things - but how can I represent that well enough on a resume that someone would even take the CHANCE of calling me in for a first interview?

I have a pretty good idea of the enviroment I want to work in - small, mostly autonomous teams. No huge projects that deal with thousands of people and in which I'm just an itty-bitty little cog. No meetings to plan meetings about meetings. No obsessions with metrics and numbers rather than with the WORK that actually gets done. Sweet heavens, a desk WITH windows! Or even a window in visual distance...I miss the sun.

Example

I went to the gym (for the grand total of TWICE) tonight, and noticed something interesting. Besides myself, there was not another young fat woman there. There were no young fat men. The only other person besides me who WAS fat was in her mid-50's. Every single other person in there was well within the height/weight chart guidelines. In fact, in my eyes a couple of them could really use a few extra calories.

It was kinda uncomfortable - like the funny looking kid in high school sitting at the same table as the football players and cheerleaders for lunch. After a while though, I didn't notice it much - I was too busy trying to concentrate on doing what I was doing right. But, after I finished and got home - it set me to thinking.

Being fat in America is viewed as a shameful thing. So, as a fat person, being surrounded by skinny people isn't really my thing. It's like watching hours upon hours of music videos - it just reminds me repeatedly just how far I am from the 'ideal' of beauty in America. So - not only am I trying to 1) institute a new habit that is going to be phyically taxing I'm also 2) surrounded by people who remind me of just how unattractive (according to popular society) I am. I'm assaulted both physically and emotionally - and then I have years of 'girls don't sweat' and 'your feet are too flat to xyz' and 'girls shouldn't lift weights' and other negative exercise related bullshit bouncing through my head.
Is it any wonder that most people stop following an exercise plan after 2 months (or whatever the number is)?? It's HARD. And while the physicality of it is tough, I think it's the mental strain that wipes most poeple out.
Maybe that's one of the reasons that more Americans don't exercise. There needs to be more overweight role models. There has been many a time when I roll my eyes in disgust as Billy Blanks does something with his body that is TOTALLY impossible for me to do with mine. And we aren't even going to TALK about the Pilates tapes. It would be wonderful - just once - to see someone my size doing exercises - and knowing enough about them to guide me from a tape. It would even be wonderful for someone who USED to be my size to be leading an exercise, because they will know, in their bones and blood, how it felt to be overweight. Of course - something like that would be self defeating, because if you ever became famous, you would most likely exercise all the weight off. That would make an interesting series of video tapes though - each tape having the same (but smaller) instructor leading it.

So...to battle the mental doubts (the physical ones I can ignore) I've come up with my Gym Mantra: I don't know what these people looked like last year, but if I keep on - I can look like them next year. It got me through today, and really that's all that matters. I'll deal with tomorrow when I get to it.

Fulfillment

My writerfriend and I were IM'ing, and he asked me what the opposite of fulfillment is. I'm not sure (and if anyone know the word that means that PLEASE tell me) but it set me on a train of thought.

I'm not fulfilled - I know I'm not. My life isn't full of wonderful places, people and things that keep me sparkling and alive. I'm not satisfied about where I am at in almost every area of my life, and I have no glowing plan for the future. But, at the same time, I can't say that I'm 'that word that is the opposite of fulfillment'. I'm not content either - I'm settled. I've slid down into a rut that most times I don't even notice. Occasionally, I will look up and see something I want hovering right above my rut, and I'm so conditioned to be HERE I don't even consider the possibility of being THERE. It's worse than inertia really - I'm a body who never knew that I even had the ability to be IN motion.

I have to be the change I want. Things might happen in my life that I want without me actively doing anything to obtain them (which really, is how most of my life has played out), but in order to insure that I get what I want - I have to DO what I want to do. I've been insane - assuming that by doing the same things I've done all my life, suddenly I'm going to look up and get different results.

The odd thing is, I don't know why! There is so much that I want to do and change and instead of DOING it (and some of it is sooo freaking simple) I just molder. Okay, some of it is just plain old laziness - I don't feel like getting off my ass and doing it. Okay - maybe most of it is laziness. And I'm so sure that the only cure for laziness is simply to not be lazy anymore. If I look at is as something simple, instead of an insurmountable task, it might be easier.

Spoiled is the problem. Almost the only thing that I actually have to expend physical energy on obtaining is a 'tight' body. Everything else can be pre-made, delivered, and custom-fit to me - with just a few button pushes and a sum of money. America is a country of lazy people who cover their laziness with the excuses of 'It's more convienent' or 'It saves time' or 'I don't have time to XYZ'. And to willingly decide to make things LESS easy for myself is pratically backwards from everything I've been subliminally taught.

I have to re-teach myself to not take the easy way out. Hm. A quote from my most favortie book of all time - Dune by Frank Herbert
"And always, he fought the temptation to choose a clear, safe course, warning, 'That path leads ever down into stagnation'."
That's where I've led myself over these years of taking the easy way out. If I'm not stagnant now, I'm damn close to the swamp. I don't like bugs enough to be fulfilled while surrounded by them. Change is okay - but I've always prefer the change initiated from the outside rather than the change that is initiated from the inside. It's easier you see, to be pushed here and there by a force outside of me than it is for me to push myself anywhere. The easy way out. I've daydreamed of being fired from this job so that I HAVE to find a new one.

I'm going to make life hard for myself - for a while. At least until I can see out of this Valley of 'that word that is the opposite of fulfillment'. I know the grass is greener on the other side.

Art

I'm debating getting a tattoo.

That's not really true - I KNOW that I am getting a tattoo - it's going to be my reward when I have dropped 100 pounds. I figured that out almost simultaneously with figuring out that in order to fall in the 'height/weight' guidelines that's about how much I would have to lose. What I'm really debating right now is whether I'm going to give myself a smaller one to celebrate 50 pounds lost.

I want some sort of badge of honor that marks that event. I've lost 30 pounds so far - but I can't really tell. If it wasn't for my clothes (and the scale) I wouldn't believe that I had lost a pound. When I look in the mirror, I still look as big as I thought I looked when I started. Which means one of two things - either I was deluding myself when I started about how big I was, or my self-image is so twisted that I can't SEE that I'm smaller. Actually - it could mean both. *sigh* So. I think that at 50 pounds (besides it being such a lovely round number) I should be able to tell SOME kind of difference. I mean - I'll be within TEN pounds of the smallest weight I ever recorded for myself - and I recorded that weight when I was 14 & 5'1. And that should show SOMEHOW, right?

The issue is, I'm debating what to get. I know what my 100lb one will be - a tat that spans my lower back of a butterfly, with the Litany Against Fear drawn inside of it - if I can ever figure out how it will look. The midpoint one - I want it to be something kinda small - no more than 2 1/2 inches square. I want it to represent growth, change, and dedication all at once. I like words in tattoos that are represented in a funky artdeco'ish fashion. Hm. And then, of course there is the thought of where to put it. I would love to put it on my back shoulder, but I don't feel like dealing with my mother and her freakout about it showing when I'm wearing my dress. At this point, it will most likely end up on my hip.

So - I've been messing about trying to design something that GRABS me right away. I truly wish that I could draw - I have so many images in my head that I can't accurately translate and it's right frustrating trying to find someone else's vision of my vision. I like tribal style tattoos - heavy black lines with swoops and arcs in them. I also like Kanji - but I don't want symbols that I can't immediately understand on me. I wear a necklace now that has a meaning I can't remember - and if it wasn't for the fact that I KNOW I wouldn't have purchased it if it menat something bad, I would have stopped wearing it a long time ago. But - I don't want to repeat that particular brain fart, so no arabic or japanese tattooed on me. I was thinking of using elemental symbols, but the western style I don't like, and Wicca doesn't have a standardized set of symbols, so once again I would have to create my own.

This is going to torment me until I figure out what I want....and IE is acting odd and freezing up as I look for images. Horrid Windows...trying to force me to work.

Cold

Winter always stirs conflicts in me, since i can't decide between liking the season for it's beauty or hating the season for the inconvinence it always causes.

I drove to KY to visit with Corey this weekend, despite the wetherman's threats, and the fresh snow that was falling as I left the house on Saturday. I drove slowly, secure in the fact that I have a car that is almost as heavy as a small SUV and has all-wheel drive. The road conditions weren't too bad - and as I got further from Indy, they actually became clearer.
It was gorgeous - the whole drive there. The sun was slowly peeking through the colds and the world was pure dazzling white. A single strip of dark gray marked the road, and the occasional spots of a colored car going west were the only bits of color that I could see. It took me almost 2 hours to complete a trip that is usually only 1 hour & 15 minutes - but the visual entertainment made it go by almost as fast.

Our weekends are always good - always way too short since we try to pack a week's worth of interaction and catching up on sleep and running errands into a mere two days - but we coexisist in such peace that our mad dashes don't seem to be quite as irratating as they would be if we were doing them alone.
He loved his early-birthday gifts (as I knew he would) and we didn't even mention Valentines Day to each other. We came to a happy agreement on that holiday our first year together, and I don't think that we have mentioned it since.

My trip back home is always longer than the trip there - both mentally and timewise. I leave on Monday morning, and the only thing that I'm looking forward to at the end of the trip is arriving at my warm house and being greeted by the cats. The snow that swooped through the midwest did a nice job on the roads and I found myself driving a very cautious 30mph most of the way to work. The trip bavk took close to three hours - but the only thing more beautiful than fresh snow in the moonlight is fresh snow at dawn.
I hated every moment of my drive back - the lack of speeding while I drive always gets me down - but the COLORS...some of the palest pastel blues and pinks and greens I've ever seen were reflected in the snow as the sun made it's slow ascent behind the clouds. The highway was mostly deserted, and I would look in the rear view mirror and see nothing but slowly lightening darkness behind me.

It's a horrid horrid season - but it's an amzingly pretty one at the same time. I truly wished that I had a good digital camera with me - I would have stopped several times.

Of course - I wouldn't have gotten OUT of the car. There is nothing pretty enough for me to suffer winds in the single digits. Nothing.

On Registering

Well - one store down - who knows how many to go.

We finally registered - at Target. I'm slightly worried though, as I tried to check our registry today, and I wasn't able to pull it up. If some dingbat didn't input our gun information, me and some folx at Target is gonna FIGHT!

*sighs* It actually went really well - especially considering the fact that we went in there with no real preparation, just grabbed the gun and went. We already knew that our tastes were very similar, so except for some color choices, it went VERY well.

Heh. Now to get those stupid STD's printed.

jasmyn

Love

In the name of love - I tell you this. Even though it might seem to be awful hard to not have SOMEONE on V-Day...it's alot harder to be abused by the someone you DO have. It's alot harder to deal with the after-effects of rape. It's alot harder to free yourself from violence in a world where "She deserved it" still spills out of people's mouths after they hear about a punch or a rape.

There is a non-profit organization called V-Day whose mission goal is to stop violence against girls and women across the globe.
Through V-Day campaigns, local volunteers and college students produce annual benefit performances of "The Vagina Monologues" to raise awareness and funds for anti-violence groups within their own communities. V-Day itself stages large-scale benefits and promotes innovative gatherings and programs (The Afghan Women's Summit, The Stop Rape Contest, Indian Country Project, and more) to change social attitudes towards violence against women. In 2002, more than 800 V-Day benefit events were presented by local volunteer activists around the world, educating millions of people about the reality of violence against women and girls.
This year's public service campaign consists of women (and men) from many walks of life talking about what they will do once violence against girls and women has ended - rape, battery, incest, female genital mutilation (FGM), and sexual slavery.

For all the women you have ever loved - and for all the women who have never been loved - Please do something! Give some time, go see the Vagina Monolouges (they are GREAT!!!), buy some cute V-day jewelry, join the email list, give some money.

Everyone deserves a life free of fear.

What will you do when women across the world don't have to walk in fear anymore?

Proud

I'm just about bursting with pride over here. I'm throughly and utterly proud of myself.

I'm shy. Not painfully - at least once I get through it, but it's hard (read damn near impossible) for me to take that first step and reach out to new people. But, I know that I'm not going to make friends sitting at home (no matter how fabulous the net is).
So - I joined a mailing list for GLBT people in Indiana called "Mutual Friends". Basically it's a mailing list for friendships and events in the area. Today, I got a email from the mailing list about a poetry reading in a local bookstore. It took me about 2 hours to talk myself into going, and I didn't take any of my poetry - because I had no intention of doing anything but reading.
I get there - and it's PAINFUL. I went in and browsed for a while, then finally sat down and waited.
Mind you, 1) I'm biseuxal, and I've run into some reallly sucky situations when it comes to lesbians. 2) I'm black, and while that doesn't matter to most people -I've never really interacted much with non-black people before I graduated from college. I went to an almost all black high school, in an mostly all black town, and then, went to an all black, all girls college. So - while after a while I don't notice it - it's still a little odd (for me) to be the ONLY black person at an event. I get over it pretty quick, but still.... Finally - I was the youngest person there - by at LEAST 10 years. So yeah - I was almost struck dumb.
But - I had fun. The ice was broken when someone started talking about Lord of the Rings. After that - they started reading poetry. It was rather good, and I started getting twitchy - wishing I had brought someo f my own to share. :) Me!! Super shy, super protective of her poetry ME! Thinking about sharing some of my babies with a bunch of Late Blooming gay folx!! *grins* I ended up giving a bit that I managed to remember - and got a GREAT response. *LOL* They LIKED me!!! (Or at least my poetry).

I feel like I'm on a high. I've NEVER done anything like this - and heaven knows I've never done anything like this BY MYSELF.
Even better - I want to go to more readings - and actually read. While I DID have fun with them tonight, and will most likely go back next month, I DO want to make friends - my age. :) So... one of the guys there said that there is a poetry reading almost every night SOMEWHERE in Indy. *deep breath*

So. I'm SO freaking proud of myself I could SPIT.


*spit*spit*spit*

Parable

I like parables - especially ones that have lots of layers and different intricate meanings. It's been DEAD at work, so I've been spending time wandering the realm of OD. While doing so, I ran across this. I'm not sure if it could be considered a parable - but it resonates far beyond its stated message.

An old Cherokee is teaching is grandson about life.

"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.
"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.
One wolf is evil -- he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
The other wolf is good -- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.
This same fight is going on inside you -- and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old man simply replied, "The one you feed."

Both wolves are in us, in our families, in our socities, in our governments, in our world. And I fear that far too many of us are starving the wrong wolf.

MoveOn

I spoke of how I don't have the passion to start something, but I have the passion to keep it going. It might be too late to change anything, but I'm not willing to rest on my laurels assuming it is.

This is the email that I got after I signed up - I know how huge of a community OD is (many, many more than I have on my email lists) and this is something I can do....

---

Please join me in signing an online petition asking President Bush to let the weapons inspections work, rather than rushing to war.If we don't act now, we could be at war by the end of the month.
Inspections in Iraq have started. Most of us breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, it's become clear that the ultra-hawks in the Bush administration -- Cheney, Wolfowitz, Perle -- will not take yes for an answer. While the rest of the world thinks Iraq has backed down, these men are pursuing a massive public relations blitz for war.

With the possibility of a peaceful resolution to this crisis at hand, we cannot allow a few men to push the world to war. Send a message to President Bush and Congress to let the inspections work at:

http://www.moveon.org/winwithoutwar/

MoveOn.org will compile our messages and present them to the administration, including Secretary of State Powell, to U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan, and to members of Congress. The good news is that the ultra-hawks face some serious opposition. Secretary of State Colin Powell and other members of the Bush Administration are willing to give diplomacy a chance, and the State Department's interpretation of the U.N. resolution is a lot more reasonable than the White House's interpretation.

President Bush has agreed that war should be the very last resort. Let's hold him and his Administration to those words:

http://www.moveon.org/winwithoutwar/

Please join me and sign on today. We must support policy makers who will oppose these few extremists in the Bush White House who have been looking for an excuse for war from the very beginning.

*Survey*

I rarely do surveys - most of them are'nt quirky enough. This one though, I've actually NEVER seen before. AND it's quirky.

The materialistic items in one's life say a great deal about that person. From wallets/purses to socks, everyone's property tells a different story. What does your story tell?

WALLET: Don't carry one. I have a case from work that I carry my palm pilot (also from work) in, and it holds my cards and money and such.
HAIRBRUSH: Haven't brushed my hair in well over two years.
TOOTHBRUSH: Braun 3D - my dentist & my mother trotted out the specter of peridontal disease to get me to buy one.
JEWELRY worn daily: My engagement ring on my left hand, a silver hawaai'n flower ring with a plain yellow gold band (my original engagement ring) on the middle finger of my right hand, and an upper ear piercing that I don't even know HOW to take out. I usually also wear earrings, a necklace and a bracelet, but whether I wear them and what they look like depends on what I'm wearing.
SOCKS: Ugh. Trouser socks mostly. The occasional pair of tights with a skirt. Once the weather stays over 50 degrees - no more socks for me.
PILLOW COVER: Um. Brown and Rusty gold. Goes with the sheet set.
BLANKET: A hand me down down comforter that my mommy gave me when I went to college.
COFFEE CUP: A big bluish-green cup that was calling my name in the Dollar Store one night.
SUNGLASSES: None right now. I tend to buy at least 4 or 5 pairs a year as they either vanish, get scratched or break. I hate paying more than ten bucks for a pair.
PANTIES: Lane Braynt for the cute ones- some remmants from college for the not cute ones. I do have enough that I know that I NEED to wash clothes when I run out of cute ones, but I can still easily go for another 2 weeks.
SHOES: That I own? Hmm... maybe about 10 pairs? I usually only wear 3 or 4 or them though - I should go through my closet and throw the rest away.
NAIL POLISH: Right now none - I told my nail guy to take the polish off, and I never got around to repolishing. I usually either go with an American Manicure, or something from OPI. I heart OPI.
HANDBAG: I own one. It's cute, black pleather - got it from Payless Clearance section.
KEYCHAIN: Um. A bunch of discount cards from drug and grocery stores. A little Habitat for Humanity cutout.
COMPUTER: Don't own one of my own - my work work one is a Compac Evo, my home work one is a Compaq POS.
FAVORITE TOP: An adorable gray shirt I found while I was stuck in Canada. Regretfully, it's now too damn big. Do I still wear it? Of course I do.
FAVORITE PANTS: Um. My bootcut low rise stretch Lane Bryant jeans. I've got a fabulous ass in those jeans.
SHAMPOO/CONDITIONER:Patene Pro-V Deep Cleanse Shampoo, and either the Hydrating Curls or the Color Care Conditioner.
SOAP: Dr. Bonners All Natural Almond or Peppermint soap. I use the peppermint is the summer only because my skin is oilier then.
PERFUME: Hm. Pi by Givenchy. I need to buy more.
CD IN THE STEREO RIGHT NOW: At home - JazzyFatNastees. In the car - Pink. At work - usually nothing since I don't have any headphones.
IN THE FRIDGE: Oh god. A bunch of protienly like stuff.
TELEVISION: It's a Panasonic 34" (I think) that I got for 60% off from Sears because someone returned it. Yes, it broke twice in the first week I had it, but it was still under warrenty.
STEREO: No clue, it's a handmedown from Corey.
TELEPHONE: Something black and cordless - but I never use it.
CELLPHONE: It's a little Nokia one. I use it as my cellphone, my house phone and my I-hate-telemarketers (when they call me though I DO sympathize with the fact that a job is a job.) phone.

That was FUN!

Heavenly

On the rare occasions that someone presses me about what religion I am (and especially if they happen to be Christians hellbent on conversion) I tell them I am a lapsed pagan. It's truly (and sadly) about the closest 'label' I can stick on my beliefs.

From 5 until 13, every choice that was made for me was made in the name of Islam. Everytime we moved from one city to another, it was because the Muslim community wasn't 'good' or 'pure' enough, or they didn't follow the Hadi'th¹ closely enough. All that I picked up from Islam (as it was practiced in our community in the mid80's until the early 90's) was unequal limitations.
There was simply so much that I COULD not do, and so much that I was not allowed to do, and for reasons that even to my young mind made little to no sense - but it was Sha'ria². Or it was from a Hadi'th. Or the Imam ³ went and studied in Saudi and he said so and so it is so.
It's hard to sit here and try to summarize the endless little bits on anger and bitterness that I went through and still carry with me because of Islam. It's even harder to do so because I actually still believe that the 'pure' religion of Islam isn't really all that bad. In the world of the Sunni⁴ Muslims that I grew up with however, it was painful.

One shining example of how the communities I lived in twisted the religion about was the fact that all women over 15 HAD to wear purdah. Period. There were no exceptions. According to Islam - it is to always be the womens choice AND the men have as much responsibility to avoid the 'temptation' of women as the women did to make sure they weren't tempting.
Or the fact that all the boys were encouraged to learn as much as they could about anything, while the girls were to mainly study the Had'iths and the Quran. Who needs higher learning when you aren't supposed to leave the house unaccompanied?
The fact that I was smarter than all of the boys made the 'encouraged' ignorance even more painful.

The pain turned into anger, the anger turned into rejection, and finally at around 16 or so - I told my mother that I could no longer consider myself Muslim. I stopped praying, stopped reading the Quran, stopped believing and the only thing I regret - I stopped learning how to speak and read Arabic. She sweet talked me into keeping up the appearence of it (we aren't going to get into my mother right now....) until I graduated high school.
Th day after graduation, I took off the headpiece, and never looked back.
At that point in time, I would have classified myself as an atheist. I didn't believe in 'God', and I sure as hell didn't believe that He was looking out for me at all.
I went to a small, private, all girls school, whose motto was "Our Whole School for Christ". Um Yeah. Thankfully, the school itself was a lot more laidback than the motto would have you believe. However, my roomate for 3 out of the 4 years I lived on campus was a bible-beating, sprit-catching, Holy Roller. She would occasionally talk me into going to church with her, and everytime I went a feeling of utter revulsion would it in my stomach and stay there until the service was over. The only thing that I enjoyed was the singing...it made me feel something deep and wonderful and powerful that the preacher simply could NOT touch. I knew that Christianity held no attractions for me - even now I HATE going to church.
I can't quite remember what first turned me towards paganism. At some point while I was still in school (most likely shortly after I began exploring my sexuality) I began to feel - disconnected. I felt the need to be connected to others in a spiritual manner - but none of the paths that I 'knew' were spiritually healthy for me.
So. It seems like I have always known about Magic(k), witchcraft, and the like from my escapist readings all during my so-called childhood - but never really realized that for some people Paganism is their main spiritual base. I began reading everything I could find out about and realized that this is how I best connect. An appreciation and reverence for nature. A belief in paranormal abilities. A highly customizable 'framework' of 'worship'.
I have to admit - I want to believe that there is some form of intelligence out there that created everything. But I cannot believe that there is a form of intelligence out there that has any control whatsoever over what we as humans do in our day to day lives. I believe that there is nothing but humanity there to save, support, and provide for humanity.

But when I walk under a full moon, I can't but help smile at Lady Luna and send a few small thoughts her way. And I can't but help feel stronger and more peaceful and better after a cleansing ritual. But at the same time - I know that it's my own belief and my own impowerment that makes me feel better. :) It's an odd combination, the balance of belief and disbelief that float about in my head.

---

1: Stories and Parables by the Prophet Muhammad and his disciples that Muslims are supposed to follow.
2: Law determined my Muslim Scholars.
3: Muslim Pastor/PReacher/Head Honcho
4: Sunni - type of Muslim. Sunni is what most Saudi's are, what most Iraqi's are not, and what Malcom X converted to after he left the Nation of Islam.

Foreboding

For the last few days, I've had a creeping sensation of foreboding. This morning, as I drove to work and saw that gas prices had jumped by 30 cents overnight, that foreboding rushed into words. I think - have a creeping feeling - that something very major is going to happen - many people will die - and the United States will be in full fledged war - before the month is out.

*shivers*

I tend not to watch the news much, mainly because I think that it's a waste of time to listen to the propaganda or the tragedies - which seems to be all that the television nightly news casters talk about. I rarely read the news - somewhat forthe same reason, but also because most of what is going on in the world today is saddeninng, maddeninng, and depressing. I TRY to lead a serene life, and I rarely am willing to deal with that sort of mental pollution.

So - while some of this 'feeling' I'm sure is caused by my awareness of how rapidly the US is ramping up - coming to full speed and damn anyone who get's in their way...I also remember how I had the nastiest sense of foreboding as I boarded a plane from Paris to Chicago around 3amEST September 11th, 2001.

I don't like this feeling. It makes me want to go home, gather all my loved ones around me, and shiver in fear until the gray feeling of danger fades away.
What scares me the most is that this feeling may never fade away.

Confession

Okay. I've got a confession to make. I created another diary. :) I started missing just WRITING here - not just wedding writing. And at first I was just going to leave em separate - but dammit I've got WAYYY too many faves under this name and I'm lazy. So - If you see some chicky called A'ishah leaving you smartass notes - that'll be me.

jasmyn

Question

When I read comments from people who support the war against Iraq - I always have questions to ask that I think are a little too rude to stick in their diary notes, so instead of stewing on them - here they are:

How exactly is waging war against a country that is not a proven threat to the United States 'protecting' democracy?

When has any proof been shown that Iraq had anything to do with September 11th?

Why is it okay for us to have weapons of mass destruction (which we have shown that we are more than willing to use), and it's okay for North Korea (aren't they communist too??) but it's not okay for Iraq? Well there is that little UN regulation they are flouting - but did you know we are flouting several UN regulations too? And that most of our 'allies' are as well?

When has it ever been okay to kill hundreds of innocent men, women and children to help them get rid of someone that they aren't willing to get rid of themselves? Assasination had been a time honored solution in dicatorships....

Why is it okay for us to send our youngest, best and brightest to die for no proven reason?

Why was it okay for us to use a nuclear bomb on a country - but it's not okay for other countries to even HAVE one?

What makes the USA believe that they are the end and and be all when it comes to worldwide morality when we can't even feed all of our own children - or their parents?

Why do we support Israel, a country that has been flouting a UN resolution since 1967 - the one that told them to evacute the occupied territories of Palestine - but we are jumping all over a country that's only been breaking the rules for what - 13 years?

How can anyone, who has ever lost a loved one, feel that justice is served by forcing hundreds of others to lose their loved ones?

What makes us so certain that the goad that Iraq needs to use those supposed weapons of mass destruction isn't massing in the Persian Gulf right now?

Why is that everyone always forgets that out of the 19 terrorists - 14 were from Saudi Arabia? Why does everyone forget that Osama is from Saudi Arabia?

Could it be possible that the Axis of Evil is a lot closer to home?

Simplicity

I'm a believer in a simple life.

My life goal is to lead a simple life - a life pared down to it's glowing core where everything I touch and do has a purpose - even if the only purpose is to amuse myself.

In my dreams of my perfect future - I live in a mediumish sized old house. Maybe about 5 or 6 bedrooms. It has a HUGE backyard, and is close (under 3 hours) to a metropolitan city. I want to live someplace where it's warm most of the year so that I can grow most of our 'steady' produce in the yard.
I want Corey there - obviously. I want kids, lots of kids. *LOL* We've agreed to 2 with a possibility of a third, but in all honesty I'd like to have around five. I want to be able to stay at home with my kids - to homeschool them until at least 5th grade. I want to have work of my own - but work that I can do at home so that I can still be a mother. I want a circle of friends who understand and appreciate the simple life - who are as intelligent and quirky as me, but each bring something wonderful and different to the table.
I want to have parties - full of good food and good drink and laughing and giggling children (and adults) that end up with everyone outside watching a meteor shower.
I wantto spend long weekends with just me and Corey - knowing that our kids are safe and that we don't have to do ANYTHING but connect even deeper with each other.

I want to live in peaceful surroundings, doing the 'work' that I love, surrounded by those I love. Hm. I wonder how many people have a dream like this. I wonder how many people just don't dream at all.

For some reason, I've begun to think that I 'belong' in California. Yes, it's expensive as hell. Yes, it's damn near as far away as we can GET from both our families. No, I don't know anyone there/have any job prospects/know why the hell I have a pull towards the state thats going to end up as an island. But. But. From all I've heard/read about/understand of Cali....it truly might be where I belong.
Even in OD - I read the diaries of Cali people and I think YES! I should be THERE.... not here.

Simple Simplicity.

Twitchy

Everyonce in a while (though lately it has seemed to be occuring more often than usual) I get twitchy and I want to change almost my entire life.

My latest twitch is my job - actually, that's been a twitch of mine for while now. I want to leave here so very badly. I'm not motivated, interested, or the least bit inspired by anything I do here. Yes, it's occasionally amusing, but I know this is NOT where I need or want to be - for any length of time.
I'm getting married in SEVEN months, and we plan on moving shortly afterwards (within the year).
So - I'm in a hunting mode. Honestly, I've no bloody clue what I want to do with my life. I majored in Computer Science in school because I was rather interested in computers (more as a tool than in how they worked) in high school, AND I got a lovely FULL ride to my #1 school - with one condition. I had to be a science major, and my choices were:
Math - I hate math. Always have, always will. Blame it on my mother.
Chemistry - Mostly okay. I didn't hate it, but it wasn't something that perked my nipples either.
Biology - No, no and no.
Physics - See Biology.
Computer Science - hm. I like computers, it seems interesting and WHOOOO mama look at those fresh out of college salaries!!!

Clearly - I went with computer science. While in college, I had a couple of internships that let me know that I did NOT want to write code to make a living - but didn't give me a real clear idea on what it was that I DID want to do. So - when I was offered a job straight out of college making boo-koo bucks that did NOT include a scrap of coding - I hopped on it like white on rice.

So - that brings me here - 8 years since I left high school, 3 years since I left college - and I am SO ready for a career change. Naturally - when you go to look at most of the career-oriented websites, they have a little section on changing your career - but it's targeted towards those who are over fifty. Hell - I'm not even over THIRTY!! And besides the fact that I DON'T KNOW what I want to do. *sigh* It's frustrating I tell you.

The jobs that appeal to me? Anything that requires a high level of organizational skills. I was an admin assistant for a year while I was in college - and I loved it. I hated the pay, and the fact that I never seemed to have enough to do and what I did have to do a trained monkey COULD do - but I liked the organizational skills needed. I liked being the hub - managing and working with people for results. (Ugh - can you tell I just went through performance management?) I liked troubleshooting - being presented with a problem and working CREATIVELY to solve it. I LIKED having to deal with something at least a little different every day - it provided a little spice to my life. And I LOVED the true 9 to 5 aspect (I was working for a bank).

At this point, the (oddly enough) only thing I would like to change is having a little more flexability in my work hours. If I want to work from 8am until 7pm - okay. If I want to work from 11pm to 1 am - okay. If I jsut plain old don't wanna work at ALL that day - okay.

And of course - that would lead one to say - Well, why not start a business from home? Simple answer - I don't trust myself enough to believe that I will/would be a success. I'm frozen with fear - looking at the looming pile of bills that seems to overwhelm me even when I DO have a fabulously well paying job - and I wonder how the hell I'm ever going to be able to convert to working for myself...without falling through the cracks of being unemployed.

So now - for the very first time since I've even considered a career - I have a chance to truly strike out on my own with one. I have some time (say a year) to stay here as a miserable little wageslave and at the same time fiugre out not only WHAT I want to do - but how I'm going to do it.
And for the past few months - the only thing that has gone *dingdingding* has been midwifery. And because of the mostly ridiculous legal issues around a woman's right to choose (they get us coming AND going) I'm not sure that I have the needed fire to NOT burnout as a midwife. So. I'm taking personality tests, thinking about what I wanted tobe as a little kid, browsing Monster.com, reading books on self-entrepaneurshp, and hoping beyond hope that SOMETHNG will come and bite me on the ass and say HEY!! I'm your perfect fit. But (as my personaliy test told me) I'm a pragmatically realistic person, and I don't really expect that to happen...all I really want is to figure it out on my own.

I feel like the slow kid in the back of the class - all the other kids are settled and happy and reading out of their crisp clean primers while I'm still trying to figure out how the HELL to get the book out of this gotdammned plastic.

No bloody wonder I'm twitchy.

Quest

I'm on a quest - a journey that is perilous with dangers, steep drops, and long backslides. I'm on a trip to be a size 8.

Yup - none of that 'I want to be healthy' or 'My doctor told me so' here. Well, maybe a little of the 'I want to be healthy' but since I already AM disgustingly healthy, it's not much of a goad to drop the poundage.

However - being a size 8 - now THAT's a goad. I'm not quite sure why I picked a size 8...but it simply sounds right. It's the biggest single digit number (so perhaps that's why - it feels at least barely reachable) and it's shaped rather like me - round on top, round on the bottom, and nicely cinched in in the middle.
And yes - maybe it's a little bit because in American society an 8 is still considered a bit on the plump side - but at least you aren't shunted off to the 'womens' sizes (where women = 53 with 2 grandkids, lots of cats and gray/blue hair) anymore. It might be a wee bit because of the fact that my bestfriend (who at her smallest was a ten) still looked a little chunkier than my ideal - and we have almost the same body type. It might be simply because I have NEVER been an 8 - I went from little girls clothes to misses 13/14 almost overnight, and I want to know what being an 8 feels/looks like.

So far - I've been working towards that goal for the past 6 months. I'm now an 18 (which while it CONTAINS the number 8 - ain't where I want to be) from a 22 - so yes, there has been progress. But it's not nearly as much, nor nearly as fast as I wanted it to be.

And - at this six month point (even though I'm no where near the end) I find myself losing focus. I eat things that I KNOW are not good for me or my goals. I've started to avoid exercise like it's the plauge. I jsut don't have that clarity of vision that I've had before - and I'm *shudder* starting to see a few pounds creep back on.

So. Exercise is my first and primary priority. I know that I can fudge a bit with my eating if I exercise, and honestly - I LIKE exercising. Lifting weights is fun. The elliptical machine (while it IS an instrument of torture) is still fun. It's a challenge. It's something I KNOW that I can master and overcome and it's a big fat challange that is sitting there and that will be fabulous once I get over the hump but DAMN that initial hump is soooo very big.

So.

The quest has begun!

Blood

I'm an only child - but I still felt the ned to write an entry about my siblings.
I am the only child of my mother. My father (who I've seen three times in my life that I can remember - two of those because I initiated it) has (last I heard) one daughter who is about ten years younger than me. Thankfully, my mother and my stepfather never had children - which I'm sure saved us from a life of misery tied to that man.
But - I have brothers, and I have a sister. My best female friend from the previous entry - she is my sister. And I have two males friends who without a doubt I would classify as my brothers. So - how have they changed my life?

I've been spoiled by them. I see what real strong friendship and love is all about in my relationship with them - and because of them I have much higher standards about who I associate with. They taught me how to interact with people my own age, and they helped me learn that mature doesn't always mean dull. They are my rocks of stability - and while I don't expect them to drop everything and come running to my rescue (though they would if I lived closer) I know that no matter what we may disagree on, on what me may clash about, and no matter how far away we live from each other they will always be my friends.

I'm often jealous of those with siblings - whether they are close to them or whether they can't stand each other. I'm jealous of families as a whole - because a large family is something that I crave. I'm learning to settle for having a community around me that feels like family.

It's amazing how conscious caring and respect can almost always trump mere blood.

Passion

I've met people that are radical - rabidly, fanatically so - about many things. So many things in fact, that I start to wonder when they have time to breathe - to be calm - to not be so very angry at the world for not understanding the righteousness of their positions.
For the longest time, I believed that I was not passionate. I believed that the fires that burned in others that made them so passionate and radical was simply not in me - and there was nothing I could do to change that.
Today - interestingly enough - I realized that there are some things I feel strongly about. I can't truly call it passion (at least not my idea of passion) because I'm not willing to fight, scream and attempt to wear people down over it. Nor do I feel the need to immerese myself in it constantly - and sometimes I don't feel like thinking about the things I'm passionate about at all.
But - there are some beliefs that I cling to radically - that when I see people verring away from those beliefs I cringe. I might not say anything, (does that make me weak?) espeicailly if I never plan on seeing them again. Most people who don't know me well most likely don't even know that I HOLD these beliefs. But some things just make me CRINGE. THe latest is watching overweight people who are complaingin about their weight eat pasta, potatoes or bread. I can't help it - I just cringe.
But I am fixed, passionate and set in these beliefs. If someone doesn't agree with them (at least most of them - or if there is disagreement at least OPEN-MINDED disagreement) it's going to be very hard for us to be friends - espeicially if you don't have A LOT else (friendwise) going for you.
I know that's always been my main problem in finding female friends from my own culture. Interestingly enough many of my 'passions' are things that my culture considers almost utterly unacceptable or simply totally opposite.

I want to write down what I am radical about - because since I first started thinking about it I have added so very many things on to the list.

I am radical about a woman's right to choose.
I am radical about equal rights for homosexuals.
I am radical about natural childbearing and rearing.
I am radical about equalaity between the sexes.
I am radical about taking responsibiliy for your actions.
I am radical about the inherent inequality and uselessness of the Big Three Religions.


I'm passionate about these beliefs. I most likely won't get into a yelling match over them - but I will support (through money or time) people and organizastions fighting for those beliefs. I might not start a petition - but I sign it and find everyone one I can to sign it as well.

Perhaps I'm so silent because to me - my beliefs are SO personal. Each one is formed by my life experiences and encounters, and I'm not perfect (or all seeing enough) to assume that what I believe is what everyone else should believe.
I think that the world would be a MUCH better place is everyone thought as I did, but then it would also be amazing dull without the spice that conflict and differences provide.

I'm actually rather amazed at this insight into MYSLEF. How often can you still suprise yourself at 26 years old? As I think about my closest friends - I realize that I only know what one of my several male friends feels about abortion for example - but also none of them dumped me as a a friend after I had one, so their beliefs can't be too radical in the anti-direction. My only real female friend is not religious, deeply into natural healing, a firm believer in personal responsibility, and is more fantic than I am about equal rights.
On the other hand - friends that I've had and simply slowly let go of - they were all feverent church-goers. They felt that an epidural and a bottle of formula is most of what they needed to get through the the transition between pregnant lady and mother. They've been subtly or obviously homophobic. No WONDER we didn't stay friends and no matter how much I try to talk myself into sending them a quick email so we can hook up to go out it somehow manages to slip my mind.
I can't be myself around them. I stopped enjoying the feeling of faking being me somewhere back in high school. Around my coworkers it's slightly easier - those sort of conversations don't come up often in workplace type conversations. Though, I have caught myself carefully editing my words over some lunch conversations lately.
I'm not the kind of woman who LIKES having a lot of distant friends - I'm the type who likes having a few VERY close friends. And with my close friends - honesty and TOTAL openness is a must. I'm not going to want to hold me tongue when she starts to talk about how wonderful her pastor is and how much he prays for the people in the church and how I should come by next Sunday. I'm not going to hold my tongue when he starts spewing about 'this fucking faggot' at work. I'm certainly not going to be able to bite my tongue when she talks about how she just wants them to dope her up so she can't feel a THING and wants the shot ASAP to dry up her breastmilk so it won't make her boobs droopy. AHHH!!!

So. With this is mind, maybe I can go into making friends with a little more success. I had a set of criteria I wanted to stick close to when I was dating, why shouldn't I have a list of criteria for making friends?

Hm. Such insights into me nd my silent passion.

Mass

I'm stubborn. I can shove my heels in the sand and resist any amount of effort to be moved in any way, shape or form - even when I'm the one who WANTS to be doing the moving.
So - I've learned to trick myself into doing things. I take tiny, tiny, steps - slowly building up to getting over the hump that stands in my way.
Right now, my hump is exercise. I NEED to exercise. My mind knows this, my body knows this, but I'm so dang lazy that I can't talk myself into going. So - I've figured out what my steps will be. First, I'll finish buying the equipment that I need to work out (socks, a couple of tee-shirts). Then - I'm going to put it all in my car (eliminating one excuse). Then - and this is the BIG then - I'm going to just go one day. When that day will be? I'm not sure - I know it will be soon, simply because I'm still trying to 'pump myself' up to go - but I haven't reached critical mass yet.

I reached critical mass when it came to my weight last summer. It's been building for YEARS - but finally in July I was able to flip the switch. I've been solely dieting up till now (with interrmitent episodes of Tae-Bo and Yoga) and I've lost close to 30 pounds. But now - because of that critical mass - I WANT the body that I've always wanted - and I believe that I can actually HAVE that body. But - without exercise - without weights - it's simply not going to happen. So.

I'm trying to fuel that critical mass - trying to get over the fact that I will be displaying my through lack of coordination to coworkers on a regular basis since my fitness center is Work's Fitness Center. Thank heavens I'm not looking for a signifigant other - I would be paralyzed by the fear of shaming myself.

Reaching critial mass for me simply means coming to a point where my desire overcomes my fear.

I'm such a wuss.

Happy

What is it about having a new diary that makes it almost irresitible for the frist week or month? I feel like I have all these words sitting in my mouth that I need to just spew out somewhere - and this is it. Once my mouth (and mind) empty out and the words approach a level of normality I will write and write and write. Perhaps I should force myself to only write once a day? That would slow the flow of my repressed expressions - but it might also give the words time to redissolve into me. So. Here comes more spew.

---

I'm happy. I am in getting married in less than SEVEN months - and I'm throughly, utterly and totally happy about that fact. There are times when I think that and I feel like tossing salt or SOMETHING over my shoulder. It doesn't really seem RIGHT somehow - for me to be so lucky and so content with him. I've gone through several relationships - none of which were truly BAD - just not well thought out. I've always believed that my own joy comes first and that if there is more pain than joy - I'm gone. And several times - I've left.

Part of what makes me happy is that with him, for the first time, I don't see any harbringers of issues that would make me want to leave. Yes, he's a sex freak of the highest order - but I was the same once and I totally believe that once I work though the events that caused me to STOP being a freak - he won't be able to handle me. Yes, he's an UTTER dingbat about money - but I've got enough financial acumen for both of us - and he's more than willing to work with me. Perhaps that's it more than anything else - we are willing and EAGER to work with each other in all ways - most of my failings he is able to compensate for and most of his failings I can compensate for. We work.

We've even lived together - and while there was a painful period of adjustment for The SuperIndependant Woman to have someone else in my HOUSE - it worked. We don't live together anymore and I miss him greatly, dearly, and constantly. I woner sometimes if the glow that I see/feel over our relationship is BECAUSE we don't live together - but in my heart I know it isn't. It's real and it's stable and it's true and it's love.

However - I'm upset about the almost certain fact that even after we get married we STILL won't be living together. We both have wonderful jobs where we are now - and we know (though we've only marginally discussed it) that we most likely won't live together during the first 6-9 months we are married. I'm not thrilled about it, he's not thrilled about it, and really - it sucks. But - eventually we will live together. Us and our cats and our future children and us. Always me & him.

And that makes me happy.

Sky

I've seen many entries about the Columbia Space Shuttle - and they seems to go either one of two ways - weeping for this 'national tradegy' or wondering why it's even classified as a national tradgey. I'm firmly in the latter camp.

I wanted to be an astronaut as a child - or an archeologist. The astronaut career I had to abdandon when I found out that you had to have uncorrected vision of at least 20/40 - which I most likely didn't have when I was born. I gave up on archeology because I wouldn't make enough money. (See previous entry on my opinions of money-making).

Even as a child I KNEW that space travel was dangerous. A human NEEDS air to breathe, and space is totally air-free. Yes, it's rather simplistic, and doesn't cover even a fraction of the tragedies that can occur - but I had a childs understanding. I'm sure that each of those seven astronauts had that SAME understanding - and still felt that yes, it was worth their LIVES to travel to space. Even though I may never see the world from space - I understand and respect the decision they made.

With that understanding and respect - it makes no sense for this incident to be any more of a national tragedy than the deaths of 7 construction workers - 7 soliders - 7 deepsea oil rig workers - 7 policemen. It IS a deeply persoanl tragedy for each of the families and friends of those who die - but that is the effect of any death.

Perhaps we as a country have too many national tragedies - or maybe we don't have enough. If the President took time out of his day to lead the Nation is mourning for EVERY American soul who dies a violent and wrongful death - he wouldn't have time to plan a war that will guarentee several hundred (at the minimum) violent and unnessary deaths.
How many people will we have to send to their deaths in the Oil Fields of Iraq before it becomes a national tragedy?


The sky's the limit...

Work

I don't like to work. It's a rather simple fact that most people (at least my older coworkers) can't seem to understand. The only - and I do mean ONLY - reason that I come to this job every day (and even almost on time) is because I NEED THE MONEY.

There are things that I would much rather do with my life (like be a midwife) but that simply don't provide enough of a cash flow to cover my needs. And no, I'm not a extravagant designer wearing, credit card running up, jetsetting kinda woman. I'm simple. I buy my clothes from Value City. I read books for entertainment. I own a used car. I LIKE finding great deals, and I'm stingy.

Right now I've been working at the same company for almost 3 years (I got hired straight out of college which is SUCH a blessing) and I'm being 'groomed' to work on another project within my team. I don't think I've ever felt quite so empty-headed in my life. And if there is anything that makes me feel insecure - it's NOT knowing. Then, I also feel rather guilty. I feel like I SHOULD know (or at least have a CLUE) about some of the things that are being talked about - but instead I'm drawing a blank. I have to sit in meetings, open-eyed/eared and closed mouth feeling like the local village idiot sponge.

It's hard for me to remember that I felt EXACTLY this stupid and unprepared when I started working here - and that EVERYONE who works here had to go through that same stupid period. The secret is to try and make it through with the least amount of dumb questions asked (unless it's one-on-one) and the most amount of information understood.

*sigh* The Learning Curve is a bitch.

But - back to work.

Balance

I find a certain level of security in being odd. It feels better to believe that the reason I am so solitary is simply because there are so few others out there who can connect to me, rather than it simply being a matter of me MISSING something.
At the same time, I worry that I'm not really odd - I just use it (as I've used money and weight and religion) as an excuse to keep me safe in my solitary little coocon.

But in everything there must be a level of balance. With the purchase of this diary - I now have three. Two on this website, and one that is set up solely for me on my website. I consiously chose to convert my other diary into a place where the entry are all narrowly focused on a certain topic - but I began to miss the connections that I formed with others as I spoke/wrote about my ENTIRE life. So - here I am again...making a place where I can write about everything that I would rather TALK about - but have so few to talk to. So - one place where I vent and talk about a major event in my life. One place where I whisper the thoughts that sometimes I'm almost ashamed to admit I have, and one place to simply write and vibrate with others.

Balance.