So, I've considered a few things lately:
1. I am obsessed with email. I do love it, as a form of communication. But, in reality, it's just a bunch of monologues. I can Shakespeare it up all I want, but without the back-and-forth, it's not all that much fun.
2. My long emails can scare people off. First, there's the guy that seemed like a perfect match. He was kind of a ridiculously-crazy match, even, in part because: he emailed big emails back! I guess the problem with folks like this is: eventually they get busy. I guess I get busy too, but I always seem to find time for email.
(I started this blog because I wanted to have a better place to funnel all my energy into, so that I'm not just having elaborate conversations with potential sweeties, that I wind up scaring off with my lengthy prose. If it's not my primary sense of internal spiritual prescience, it's my big emails. I can't help that I'm a size queen!)
Anyway. Perfect Match emailed 1.5 weeks ago, to say that, oh, actually, he's not ready to start dating again. Even though I'm really freaking awesome, and he totally feels conflicted, and half wants to jump right in...
In the end, he says, he can't. *blink*
And I realize that I'd been smelling something rotten, and it's the whole idea of me writing, and the other person not writing back, or writing back begrudgingly. He'd become one of -those- people, in the days leading up to this.
*thinking*
3. Another potential-sweetie, who does a lot of travel with work, pointed out that, he loves my emails, all the trains of thought, all the lines of conversation, but, gosh, it's daunting.
4. I think I have too much free time on my hands. And, I need to find a way to funnel that time, and that writing energy, into something Positive.
5. I was told last week, by a Yoruban priest and community chief in the Ifá tradition, that I am a writer, and that I need to speak my truth, and unreasonably generous wealth will follow.
That's hard to hear. It speaks to my tendency to procrastinate. There is no time to procrastinate, in front of Yemaya and Ogun.
....
Meanwhile, I realize that I have 3 sets of friends, with little overlap. They use Twitter, Facebook, and G+. They each tend to scoff at the other platforms. I have started using all 3 platforms. God damn it.
So, there you go. I am contemplating buying a Mac laptop, even though I don't see myself using a laptop out in the world. I want simplicity at home, and a smaller footprint for computer space.
Here's to getting it all out. I'm preparing for next week, when I spend a full 7 days on Mt. Shasta, 3 days/3 nights of that on my own, with a sleeping bag, a staked-out meditation spot, a tarp, and maybe a shovel to dig poo holes. ... Match Boy didn't write back. Other Potential Sweetie has email access next week, when I don't... *sigh*
Here's to not having menstrual cramps during my visionquest. Today I hope to see a Chinese herbalist, and I hope for relief!
xxoo
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
It's easy to hold it against someone who Doesn't Write. That probably makes them resent you, and decide to actively never write back at All, mostly because they can, and partly because it's embarrassing to pick up the pen after so long. What does one say after randomly ditching a communicative banter for...something else?
I have no problem writing paragraphs. It's usually not even boring, or so people tell me. My friends seem highly amused by my banter. Both my housemates think I should be a comedienne. I suspect my complaints and stories are much more funny after a long day of work, than they'd be repeated over and over.
I'm at work right now. I'm supposed to be filling out chart abstractions on some charts I'm responsible for. It's tedious work. After this, I'll need to get back to making lots of phone calls.
I guess I love pithy emails, because I learn so much about the other person, and also get to share myself. My heart seems to be a gushy one. My last sweetie seemed to appreciate my stories, until he didn't. :\ I would like to think that the problem isn't that I need to shut up, but that I need an appreciative audience.
Fresh Meat Festival was last night, the finale of the 10th year anniversary. Natasha Muse is a trans comedienne, amazing lady. "That's What Jesus Said" was her quip. Ah, so lovely. Also excellent were the Hawai'ian dancers, all men and one woman. There was one tall man in the center of the group who was ridiculously hot. Oh my. I saw him afterwards at the reception out front, talking with someone, wearing a shirt and jeans. *blush* and I kept on walking right out the door. Oh my. Vogue Evolution was also pretty amazing.
The highlight / treat of the evening, overall, though, was the ASL interpreter. OMG hot, and her interpretations were MEGA-HOT. I haven't seen such sexy, empassioned ASL since maybe Michigan Womyn's Music Festival from 2001 or so. Oh dear. I caught her eye on the way out, and gushed that she was WONDERful. She thanked me, and complimented me on my glasses frames. *light as a feather* Life is good!
I have no problem writing paragraphs. It's usually not even boring, or so people tell me. My friends seem highly amused by my banter. Both my housemates think I should be a comedienne. I suspect my complaints and stories are much more funny after a long day of work, than they'd be repeated over and over.
I'm at work right now. I'm supposed to be filling out chart abstractions on some charts I'm responsible for. It's tedious work. After this, I'll need to get back to making lots of phone calls.
I guess I love pithy emails, because I learn so much about the other person, and also get to share myself. My heart seems to be a gushy one. My last sweetie seemed to appreciate my stories, until he didn't. :\ I would like to think that the problem isn't that I need to shut up, but that I need an appreciative audience.
Fresh Meat Festival was last night, the finale of the 10th year anniversary. Natasha Muse is a trans comedienne, amazing lady. "That's What Jesus Said" was her quip. Ah, so lovely. Also excellent were the Hawai'ian dancers, all men and one woman. There was one tall man in the center of the group who was ridiculously hot. Oh my. I saw him afterwards at the reception out front, talking with someone, wearing a shirt and jeans. *blush* and I kept on walking right out the door. Oh my. Vogue Evolution was also pretty amazing.
The highlight / treat of the evening, overall, though, was the ASL interpreter. OMG hot, and her interpretations were MEGA-HOT. I haven't seen such sexy, empassioned ASL since maybe Michigan Womyn's Music Festival from 2001 or so. Oh dear. I caught her eye on the way out, and gushed that she was WONDERful. She thanked me, and complimented me on my glasses frames. *light as a feather* Life is good!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
For Jon
Last night I cried
from reading
your facebook.
your poems...
I didn't know
it could be like that.
Deep.
On facebook.
I saw you standing with your friends and lovers,
posed together.
Your people seem lovely.
And:
You speak another language.
Black clothes.
No camera smile.
It feels very hard,
without a net,
without any soft
primary colors
or silly hats.
Clear, unclouded eyes
looking out through the lens.
Yet I sit here crying
over all that black,
and all that somber,
and all that beauty
in crisp words folded together
and fanned out perfect.
It's another kind of spark.
...
Spark is my unit of measurement.
Do you emit,
or only absorb
joy, pain, human?
I cry thinking of black holes,
and infinite silence,
and muted selves,
and concrete lives
all laid bare,
wearing only black
to match itself.
I want my joy on my sleeve, speckled with stains
from eating, and living, messy and honest.
from reading
your facebook.
your poems...
I didn't know
it could be like that.
Deep.
On facebook.
I saw you standing with your friends and lovers,
posed together.
Your people seem lovely.
And:
You speak another language.
Black clothes.
No camera smile.
It feels very hard,
without a net,
without any soft
primary colors
or silly hats.
Clear, unclouded eyes
looking out through the lens.
Yet I sit here crying
over all that black,
and all that somber,
and all that beauty
in crisp words folded together
and fanned out perfect.
It's another kind of spark.
...
Spark is my unit of measurement.
Do you emit,
or only absorb
joy, pain, human?
I cry thinking of black holes,
and infinite silence,
and muted selves,
and concrete lives
all laid bare,
wearing only black
to match itself.
I want my joy on my sleeve, speckled with stains
from eating, and living, messy and honest.
---
[I wrote this about a friend I've gone on a couple of dates with, an interesting person, a match in most ways except he's atheist, and I'm more an animist/shamanist. He doesn't like to email much; that might be the deal-breaker!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Pen Pals
So, I met a lady on OKCupid, who wants to be pen pals. I agreed, after noticing she's incredibly attractive, and a professional poet. We started writing.
I told her some of my recent thoughts, about relationships. She responded by telling me to journal more, that I share unfinished thoughts, or that they will seem unfinished to a generic audience. I've been told this before, by a dear local friend, who finds my "pastische of words" off-putting at times.
My life of email-writing, stream-of-consciousness, and, well, rants, I can see that maybe, maybe I could think twice, write once.
That said, I'll do a little journaling here, away from livejournal, away from most prying eyes:
I met a nice person. We went on a couple of pretty amazing dates. I thought I had a lock-down on being grounded, being self-aware, and not falling head-over-heels for someone just because we get along famously well.
Email is becoming a true obsession. It doesn't help that I'm suddenly, after two years of taking continuous-use hormonal contraceptives, having my first true menstrual bleed.
Everything feels more tender and exaggerated. I'm tired. I'm sore. My uterus aches. My dreams feel debilitating.
Lately I find myself thinking of my ex from last fall, whose wife is due next month with a first child. I've cut off communication with him, after a series of emails leading me to understand he still doesn't get my notion of self, and doesn't respect my values. *blink* Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is due end of August, in rural Pennsylvania. She'll deliver in Manhattan, where her mom lives.
I thought I honestly didn't care about partnership. I thought it was a weakness, a crutch people lean on to prevent themselves from going out into the world and -living-, fully, passionately, unto themselves.
This weekend I spent Saturday and Sunday involved in exploring wilderness for my earth medicine group, or meeting with folks to discuss a quest I'm going on in August, and an intensive workshop on ancestral guidance. *blink* This work has basically taken over what therapy used to do for me, but it feels much more participatory, and directly helps me communicate with my inner path.
The new boy I met (OK, there were actually two new boys, but one's only available on a very part-time basis) brings up some inner conflicts: I am an independent person. I am not dependent on my relationship to define me. I have avoided being in relationship, or identifying by my relationship, for decades, now!
But, golly, this is a shiny new thing. I have to palpably resist the urge to check my email 10 times a day, awaiting new input.
Instead, I need to remember my old skills, which I get better at with time (and with separation from tempting date-prospects): sublimate sexual desire into art, into academic pursuit, into work. Express, but do not regurgitate on those near me!
I remember a man living in Gainesville, across the hall from an apartment I stayed in for a month or so, while a friend was on art therapy sabbatical. He pointed out that he used to be like me, until he started chanelling his energies into music, and antiques collecting.
I was too manic at that point of my life to even recognize if he was flirting with me. I pursued a man who was basically an intellectual asshole; we competed at local performance art dives. We got into a white-people fight, and he tripped me, and I hit the ground with my face. He drove off, and crushed my glasses, inadvertantly, I believe. I nursed my wounds in the gay dive bar where we'd just performed, and wound up getting solace from a sweet bisexual boy, Tom. Tom knew enough to identify as straight or gay, depending on the circumstances. He was a good person to me. I think he had stinky breath, or I'd have been much more into him. :) Or maybe I was just...overwhelmed. That was an intense summer!
I have things to focus on: making approximately 600 more prayer ties before 8/7; finishing and submitting my application for an expressive arts therapy program, which I may or may not pursue; advertising more for my favorite new project, gender-free Scottish country dance...
He's a really sweet boy. I can tell I like him a lot. I just can't lose myself in him, or in the thought, of whatever potential might exist there. I cannot afford to lose myself in anyone. For all the sweetness, I need my own personal rock, or I am asea forever.
I told her some of my recent thoughts, about relationships. She responded by telling me to journal more, that I share unfinished thoughts, or that they will seem unfinished to a generic audience. I've been told this before, by a dear local friend, who finds my "pastische of words" off-putting at times.
My life of email-writing, stream-of-consciousness, and, well, rants, I can see that maybe, maybe I could think twice, write once.
That said, I'll do a little journaling here, away from livejournal, away from most prying eyes:
I met a nice person. We went on a couple of pretty amazing dates. I thought I had a lock-down on being grounded, being self-aware, and not falling head-over-heels for someone just because we get along famously well.
Email is becoming a true obsession. It doesn't help that I'm suddenly, after two years of taking continuous-use hormonal contraceptives, having my first true menstrual bleed.
Everything feels more tender and exaggerated. I'm tired. I'm sore. My uterus aches. My dreams feel debilitating.
Lately I find myself thinking of my ex from last fall, whose wife is due next month with a first child. I've cut off communication with him, after a series of emails leading me to understand he still doesn't get my notion of self, and doesn't respect my values. *blink* Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is due end of August, in rural Pennsylvania. She'll deliver in Manhattan, where her mom lives.
I thought I honestly didn't care about partnership. I thought it was a weakness, a crutch people lean on to prevent themselves from going out into the world and -living-, fully, passionately, unto themselves.
This weekend I spent Saturday and Sunday involved in exploring wilderness for my earth medicine group, or meeting with folks to discuss a quest I'm going on in August, and an intensive workshop on ancestral guidance. *blink* This work has basically taken over what therapy used to do for me, but it feels much more participatory, and directly helps me communicate with my inner path.
The new boy I met (OK, there were actually two new boys, but one's only available on a very part-time basis) brings up some inner conflicts: I am an independent person. I am not dependent on my relationship to define me. I have avoided being in relationship, or identifying by my relationship, for decades, now!
But, golly, this is a shiny new thing. I have to palpably resist the urge to check my email 10 times a day, awaiting new input.
Instead, I need to remember my old skills, which I get better at with time (and with separation from tempting date-prospects): sublimate sexual desire into art, into academic pursuit, into work. Express, but do not regurgitate on those near me!
I remember a man living in Gainesville, across the hall from an apartment I stayed in for a month or so, while a friend was on art therapy sabbatical. He pointed out that he used to be like me, until he started chanelling his energies into music, and antiques collecting.
I was too manic at that point of my life to even recognize if he was flirting with me. I pursued a man who was basically an intellectual asshole; we competed at local performance art dives. We got into a white-people fight, and he tripped me, and I hit the ground with my face. He drove off, and crushed my glasses, inadvertantly, I believe. I nursed my wounds in the gay dive bar where we'd just performed, and wound up getting solace from a sweet bisexual boy, Tom. Tom knew enough to identify as straight or gay, depending on the circumstances. He was a good person to me. I think he had stinky breath, or I'd have been much more into him. :) Or maybe I was just...overwhelmed. That was an intense summer!
I have things to focus on: making approximately 600 more prayer ties before 8/7; finishing and submitting my application for an expressive arts therapy program, which I may or may not pursue; advertising more for my favorite new project, gender-free Scottish country dance...
He's a really sweet boy. I can tell I like him a lot. I just can't lose myself in him, or in the thought, of whatever potential might exist there. I cannot afford to lose myself in anyone. For all the sweetness, I need my own personal rock, or I am asea forever.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
In Which I Get Schooled in Communication
I am the first to admit I don't have everything figured out. I am not always a clear communicator, and I do not always draw clear lines when I describe things to others. A friend once called my descriptions "a pastiche of words", and I had to agree at the time.
In the past nine months or so, I have tried becoming more aware of how I communicate, and making a stronger effort to communicate effectively, thinking about the words I use, not flying entirely by the seat of my pants, but aiming for cohesiveness, and consistency.
When I meet people that work differently than I do, it makes for a humble moment. I think of myself as so communicative, yet what historical knowledges do I have? How fluent am I in world politics, or conversation, or... anything? There is so much in the world I do not know about. My crocheting and dancing skills can take me so far; beyond that, I'm not sure. I'm slowly learning Nordic runes, and studying the history of old religioni of the Norse people. There's a whole other Old English set of runes I know almost nothing about, and have no clue if there's a metaphysical background to these runes, as there is for the Norse set.
I feel a bit fluffy, really. All my passion and exuberance doesn't help if I have no Pithy Content to back it up.
I am considering the consequences of my actions and inactions. I hope to find some balance, in the meantime.
In the past nine months or so, I have tried becoming more aware of how I communicate, and making a stronger effort to communicate effectively, thinking about the words I use, not flying entirely by the seat of my pants, but aiming for cohesiveness, and consistency.
When I meet people that work differently than I do, it makes for a humble moment. I think of myself as so communicative, yet what historical knowledges do I have? How fluent am I in world politics, or conversation, or... anything? There is so much in the world I do not know about. My crocheting and dancing skills can take me so far; beyond that, I'm not sure. I'm slowly learning Nordic runes, and studying the history of old religioni of the Norse people. There's a whole other Old English set of runes I know almost nothing about, and have no clue if there's a metaphysical background to these runes, as there is for the Norse set.
I feel a bit fluffy, really. All my passion and exuberance doesn't help if I have no Pithy Content to back it up.
I am considering the consequences of my actions and inactions. I hope to find some balance, in the meantime.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Green Lantern Slash: I want a Bi Super-Hero!
I watched Green Lantern this weekend, in the theatre. I liked it. I only felt there was something missing in the tension-filled scenes with Sinestro and Hal Jordan. When Hal asks for help to defend Earth from the evil fear-based villain Parallax, Sinestro tells him he has no chance. Jordan replies that he'll die fighting then. Sinestro changes tack then, and fares Jordan well as a Green Lantern. He says this gently to Hal, with a suddenly soft voice after so many harsh words, so much distrust in Hal's potential. I felt this would be the perfect moment ... for them to kiss.
The (sexual?) tension between Sinestro and Hal Jordan seemed much more real and vibrant than anything between the ace flying champ / high-tech airplane company president / only female character / "love" interest Carol. In the same vein, when an unconscious Hal is snatched from a sun's gravity after he defeats Parallax, the first Green Lantern to reach him is Sinestro, the first face Hal sees upon waking. Sinestro has kind words for Hal, but it seemed a lot of sentiment, and not enough physical affection!
At the end of the movie, Hal and Carol finally kiss. Boring, predictable. Blah.
We know from the easter egg at the end of the movie that Sinestro will become a villain, embracing his yellow ring of fear. Hal seemed to have the lock-down on what it felt like, living a life with fear, opting not to give in. Interesting, that the Carol character will also turn villain in the future, unwittingly becoming the target of an Amazonian tribe of separatist women. Maybe Sinestro has a chance with Hal, after all...
The (sexual?) tension between Sinestro and Hal Jordan seemed much more real and vibrant than anything between the ace flying champ / high-tech airplane company president / only female character / "love" interest Carol. In the same vein, when an unconscious Hal is snatched from a sun's gravity after he defeats Parallax, the first Green Lantern to reach him is Sinestro, the first face Hal sees upon waking. Sinestro has kind words for Hal, but it seemed a lot of sentiment, and not enough physical affection!
At the end of the movie, Hal and Carol finally kiss. Boring, predictable. Blah.
We know from the easter egg at the end of the movie that Sinestro will become a villain, embracing his yellow ring of fear. Hal seemed to have the lock-down on what it felt like, living a life with fear, opting not to give in. Interesting, that the Carol character will also turn villain in the future, unwittingly becoming the target of an Amazonian tribe of separatist women. Maybe Sinestro has a chance with Hal, after all...
Email Effusiveness
I admit that I'm a size queen. About email.
I really like pithy communications. They -get- to me in a way ascerbic one-liners don't.
I've been spoiled in this before, since I first started exploring friendship: my best friend and I would stay up late talking on the phone, talking about everything. It was cathartic. The first boy I met who could talk like that...wow. Amazing. But I wasn't yet to the place of being able to date, I think. My brain wasn't there yet.
So I went on, having friends, mostly girls, who could Keep Up With Me, in a literary sense.
My first boyfriend was brilliant, very clever with the letters, and the crafty art, and advertisements altered to create clever messages.
From there, I continued to meet clever people, with long emails into the night, chat sessions... college was grand, and yet: the depth of communication via email didn't always match person-to-person depth capacity. One sweetie proved so shy in person. Another made me laugh until I peed my pants, which is my personal sign of true love / being moderately smitten.
I've had a lover that had pretty bad dyslexia. Our conversations moved back to the phone, and she was my most well-loved girlfriend, the one that got away, even.
If they can't dance...
If they can't write...
I admit I'm a snob about some things. It's troublesome, taking dates to my Scottish country dance classes. If they do awfully, I find that I think a little less of them. There's a point to which it works in their favor, that they're willing to try something new. There's a point at which that doesn't matter, if they're awful, clumsy dancers.
I know this does not make me a better person, this snobbery. Similarly, I can accept a certain amount of misspelling or fast-typed grammar/spelling error. But beyond that...I start to snicker.
So, I go through life hoping to meet people with similar abilities, that inspire me in new ways, or old ways... and I try to not sigh too heavily, when things seem strange, or beneath me.
And, I write in this blog, so I avoid writing yet ANOTHER email to the date that I might never hear from again...
If you're lucky, I'll share my poem with you!
xo
B
I really like pithy communications. They -get- to me in a way ascerbic one-liners don't.
I've been spoiled in this before, since I first started exploring friendship: my best friend and I would stay up late talking on the phone, talking about everything. It was cathartic. The first boy I met who could talk like that...wow. Amazing. But I wasn't yet to the place of being able to date, I think. My brain wasn't there yet.
So I went on, having friends, mostly girls, who could Keep Up With Me, in a literary sense.
My first boyfriend was brilliant, very clever with the letters, and the crafty art, and advertisements altered to create clever messages.
From there, I continued to meet clever people, with long emails into the night, chat sessions... college was grand, and yet: the depth of communication via email didn't always match person-to-person depth capacity. One sweetie proved so shy in person. Another made me laugh until I peed my pants, which is my personal sign of true love / being moderately smitten.
I've had a lover that had pretty bad dyslexia. Our conversations moved back to the phone, and she was my most well-loved girlfriend, the one that got away, even.
If they can't dance...
If they can't write...
I admit I'm a snob about some things. It's troublesome, taking dates to my Scottish country dance classes. If they do awfully, I find that I think a little less of them. There's a point to which it works in their favor, that they're willing to try something new. There's a point at which that doesn't matter, if they're awful, clumsy dancers.
I know this does not make me a better person, this snobbery. Similarly, I can accept a certain amount of misspelling or fast-typed grammar/spelling error. But beyond that...I start to snicker.
So, I go through life hoping to meet people with similar abilities, that inspire me in new ways, or old ways... and I try to not sigh too heavily, when things seem strange, or beneath me.
And, I write in this blog, so I avoid writing yet ANOTHER email to the date that I might never hear from again...
If you're lucky, I'll share my poem with you!
xo
B
I made this to funnel my thoughts!
Hello. I made this blog for a few reasons. Mainly, I love email. I love it to the point that I think it may scare some folks off, especially romantic interests.
But the truth is, I don't -want- anyone in my romantic life if they don't give as good as they get, in the communication department. And I am used to giving, and getting, excellent, witty communications.
*sigh* It turns out, there are some good people in the world that just happen to be horrible emailers. Some of them are dyslexic, and avoid email because they dislike exposing their weak spot. Some just don't see email communication in a timely manner as a priority. I met people recently that wait 2-3 days to respond to a time-sensitive matter, and when they DO respond it's one, two sentences, sparse sparse sparse.
*sigh*
I shouldn't hate these people. They are just different than I am. And so, I create a blog to fling myself into, to have a place for my Precious Thoughts, and hope that that scratches my communications itch.
I'm really not a bad person. I just like cohesive, smart and clever communication. Email is the easiest to manage, on a daily basis, but I like paper letters very much. I've even worked on my penmanship, and have a decent calligraphic hand.
To love me is to show me your cursive script, and let me eye it critically!
So, we'll see how this goes. I hope you enjoy it!
But the truth is, I don't -want- anyone in my romantic life if they don't give as good as they get, in the communication department. And I am used to giving, and getting, excellent, witty communications.
*sigh* It turns out, there are some good people in the world that just happen to be horrible emailers. Some of them are dyslexic, and avoid email because they dislike exposing their weak spot. Some just don't see email communication in a timely manner as a priority. I met people recently that wait 2-3 days to respond to a time-sensitive matter, and when they DO respond it's one, two sentences, sparse sparse sparse.
*sigh*
I shouldn't hate these people. They are just different than I am. And so, I create a blog to fling myself into, to have a place for my Precious Thoughts, and hope that that scratches my communications itch.
I'm really not a bad person. I just like cohesive, smart and clever communication. Email is the easiest to manage, on a daily basis, but I like paper letters very much. I've even worked on my penmanship, and have a decent calligraphic hand.
To love me is to show me your cursive script, and let me eye it critically!
So, we'll see how this goes. I hope you enjoy it!
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