Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Up and Coming........

Quilt pieces.

Something I do out of sheer boredom and wishful thinking? I go to sites I adore and shop. I pick and throw in a "shopping bag" or "cart" however they say and today I was in over my head in clothing at Modcloth. Er, about $3,000.00 worth in Monoploy money or my Sugardaddy's money. Whichever. Both are charade worthy. Forgive me for being up in the air. I am having fits. Good fits I believe. I'm working on some things, mostly in my journal. Kind of, paste and copy if you will. Most interesting. Just like a house dream. Comforting. Surreal. Appropriate.

My fury has been overwhelming as of late. I air it out here because of the "no judgement" policy strictly enforced by the "Cathartic Nazi" in me. (Credit given fully to S.N. here) I can understand how reading my blog confuses you all so. I am happy. Very much so. I still need therapy. I still need to cry. This is my shelter from the storm. My dock. My cave. It's the safeplace to get these things out so I don't direct them at the people I love and not hold back unnecesarily. I blog because it helps me to breakthrough. It's my birthing place. It's also a graveyard. We all know my obsession with those............

I saw a falcon the other morning. It was a sure sign. I drove by it, and the falcon acted as if it were there to tell me something. I welcome it. I'm in a funny place right now. I'm in a place where I want to spend a lot of time alone but also want to be checked on compulsively. I wish I had the bones to bring forth my inspiration. I just don't want to miss the boat. I feel as if I am staring at my heart in my hands. It beats. The good news is it's still in my chest. Beating wildly. I can see it clearly though dear. I need to rest somehow. I told B we should make martini's tonight, a la fifties cat and mouse/mom and dear old dad extrodinaire. He agreed. We both agreed they needed to be extra dirty. I reminded him to buy the big jar of olives. I'm much like a kitten running along the piano keys. Unfortunantely I look much like Garfield, less like Arlene. (Pink kitty with big red lips.) (She's a knockout.)

Obsessed with other blogs, shockingly mostly about other cultures. Other lands I long to explore. My 30's are going to exceptional. Hopeful to travel. Maybe figure some of it out. Maybe have a photography studio of massive proportions for Sue and I to play in, in the other half a jammin' antique/book store where we play ALOT of Funk. Or Motown. Gah. I love Motown. That's what I listen to in the morning when I sit on the dryer and try to wake up. I needed all this time, right? I needed to be able to see parts of myself that were not accessable any other way. It all makes sense.

I talked to Terry for a few minutes a while ago. It made me smile. Cheezy.

Hang on. I'm going to experiment for moment. Use some word association. I'm putting myself out there. Trying to live in the great light. Aint no way. For me. To love you. But you let me. It's warm here. The place I am in where people hold me in high regard. What a great feeling. I don't feel like pushing you away. I feel good. She said: I couldnt believe that someone would think that little of me. This made me want to write Thank You notes as if I had come from a surprise party. How thankful I am. She also suggested Tarot Cards. I am so open to that idea. I enjoy the feeling that comes from free thinking. I also am wearing alot of headbands. Lots of feathers. B thinks they look cute. He never complains about what I think is cool. It's automatic with him. How satisfying. I feel no shame. Criss cross applesauce.

Fairy Tale Teaparty.
Ramsey Cascades.
Magical place.
Birdcages (& veils) Pillbox HATZ.
Delicate vintage postcards.
Teacups. (Your inspiration, S.N.)
Gloves. Elbow length. (Just to try on)
Shadow show.
The last temptation.

Maybe I am needy. Dark. I feel no disgrace. But what's wrong with that? I am bursting at the seams. I am fortunate to have very many to care for me. There are souls out there who do not receive any kind of touch. Any kind of human contact. So I pray for those souls. For the sad. For the forgotten. For ministry to touch me. I feel as if String Theory is very much alive in me. There are all kinds of blurred lines. I swear I have dreams of things coming, happening. It's lively. It's tough to focus on the "now". I see very many outlines of it all. I see beginnings of a timeline. It's comforting. Like a soft sweater. I dig it.

I work through the secret. Bombshell in the making. I need to be creative. Pull the trigger. Listen to music. Read the newspaper, piles of books, maybe not the whole thing. I feel inspiration gravitating toward me. The feeling is as familiar as a warm bath. I have to stop foolin' around. Take a leap of faith. Pursue the next step. 65 different things.

You can tell I'm distracted.

No comments:

Post a Comment