As usual, there is not enough time to do the things I want to do. I get it. I do. It's because I am an adult, and I have to do the things "The Man" wants me to do. Bullshit. If said "Man" knew what I was doing in my free time, inside my head, the color wash that pours through my brain, oh, Damn the Man! He would be jealous. It's the thing that cannot be taxed, taken away, pulled away from, left behind. This, my dears, "The Man" cannot control. Now "The Man" will try. Of course, culture does not help with,"Dontcha wanna think like everybody else?????"
Sometimes, I fall for this bait. This ill-fated, and poorly thought out plan by as, I will call it from now on, "The Machine" that tries to control the said "MAN" once again. Pitiful plight I would say. What a horrible existence. What a nightmare.
You, may be living in it. Get out. Now. It's not too late.
It's going to be a beautiful next 3 weeks. Full of what "I know what I can do........"
Maybe you, won't feel so disappointed in yourself. Maybe I will inspire you to try harder.
After all, I believe that's part of my purpose.
If it sounds like I'm being full of myself, this is the correct assumption. You should look at me and say sassy things under your breath, because, it will push me harder.
And maybe, YOU will try harder.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
ACTION!!!!
Do you ever feel like you are/have wasting/wasted someone else's time when you look back, or survey your present life? Many years ago, I had a boy say similar words to me. He said, I just feel you're wasting time with me until someone better comes along. He was right. In a small way. No one better came along, but he and I grew apart. He became this monster I could no longer feed and hide in the bedroom closet. He consumed me in a way that made me appreciate his words today. Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly......
Many trap doors.
I'm a whirlwind of designs and ideas. I have absolute method to my madness. This is all a big cover -up. (My blog) (My life) I am hiding in the laundry basket, in the clothes you do not want to fold, but need to fold. Nothing profound today.
I feel under the gun, and agitated. I am a little girl in the middle of a breath-holding fit. I am a little on the edge. If you don't seem to mind, I believe that is awesome! I am not faking anything. I am, true and genuine. I'm a Miller Hi-Life.
I don't know where to go from here.
LIST OF SHIT I AM GOING TO DO (with help)
1. Drag table legs out of barn.
2. Sand pie saver.
3. Finish patching hole in smokehouse.
4. Hauling off coke cans.
5. WEED EATING. (Beg for mercy.)
6. Somehow create shelves out of paper mache, and laugh when they go all to hell.
7. No. that's all for the upcoming week.
8. Wait, attack sun porch.
9. Okay, that's it.
P.S. I am going on a secret adventure with myself. I love you all, but there's way too much noise for me to involve another soul......
Many trap doors.
I'm a whirlwind of designs and ideas. I have absolute method to my madness. This is all a big cover -up. (My blog) (My life) I am hiding in the laundry basket, in the clothes you do not want to fold, but need to fold. Nothing profound today.
I feel under the gun, and agitated. I am a little girl in the middle of a breath-holding fit. I am a little on the edge. If you don't seem to mind, I believe that is awesome! I am not faking anything. I am, true and genuine. I'm a Miller Hi-Life.
I don't know where to go from here.
LIST OF SHIT I AM GOING TO DO (with help)
1. Drag table legs out of barn.
2. Sand pie saver.
3. Finish patching hole in smokehouse.
4. Hauling off coke cans.
5. WEED EATING. (Beg for mercy.)
6. Somehow create shelves out of paper mache, and laugh when they go all to hell.
7. No. that's all for the upcoming week.
8. Wait, attack sun porch.
9. Okay, that's it.
P.S. I am going on a secret adventure with myself. I love you all, but there's way too much noise for me to involve another soul......
Friday, August 14, 2009
Hanukkah Candles....
I ain't your steppin' stone. I feel very used today. There's not a specific reason. There are not any brilliant facts to back this asinine story up. I just do. I should feel good. I should feel good about helping people when they need it, and not expect anything in return. I should. That, is the right thing.
Here I am though. Feelin' as if I have collaborated on this huge project, and received zero pay...
That's not how Karma works though. (I still can't help but feel, er, disappointed.)
Maybe that's how I make other people feel, and they never told me. Maybe, I need a roofie. Maybe I need to get away. Maybe it's a hard candy Christmas. Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.
Do me a favor. Please try hard and not misconstrue what I say. What I attempt to let out. Sometimes, we just have emotions. Sometimes, they will never be explained.
Maybe, just maybe, I am THAT plain.
I have lost faith in "committed realationships." I don't believe in them. For at least today.
What happened? Well, tomfoolery happened. It has been proven. My blue jean mood? Is that sometimes, you have to face facts. Laugh when necessary. Walk away from your dream world. Realize, things are just sad every now and then.
This blog isn't up for discussion. So please do not broach said subject with me.
I want to eat well. Run. Work on the farm. And maybe never write again. My heart is a bruised purple today. It doesn't feel well. She needs the infirmary. She needs, a break. Or, mending.
She needs. And it has destroyed her.
Picture her in a little box. White. With a huge red ribbon. You can see the texture of the ribbon. Shiny. It would be pleasing to the touch. The white box? Would feel a little rough, but appropriate.
You would imagine, it would be growth. That would be the reason why it hurt, or is so discolored. It's the shrinking and growing. She has been exercised to the point of exhaustion.
Here I am though. Feelin' as if I have collaborated on this huge project, and received zero pay...
That's not how Karma works though. (I still can't help but feel, er, disappointed.)
Maybe that's how I make other people feel, and they never told me. Maybe, I need a roofie. Maybe I need to get away. Maybe it's a hard candy Christmas. Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.
Do me a favor. Please try hard and not misconstrue what I say. What I attempt to let out. Sometimes, we just have emotions. Sometimes, they will never be explained.
Maybe, just maybe, I am THAT plain.
I have lost faith in "committed realationships." I don't believe in them. For at least today.
What happened? Well, tomfoolery happened. It has been proven. My blue jean mood? Is that sometimes, you have to face facts. Laugh when necessary. Walk away from your dream world. Realize, things are just sad every now and then.
This blog isn't up for discussion. So please do not broach said subject with me.
I want to eat well. Run. Work on the farm. And maybe never write again. My heart is a bruised purple today. It doesn't feel well. She needs the infirmary. She needs, a break. Or, mending.
She needs. And it has destroyed her.
Picture her in a little box. White. With a huge red ribbon. You can see the texture of the ribbon. Shiny. It would be pleasing to the touch. The white box? Would feel a little rough, but appropriate.
You would imagine, it would be growth. That would be the reason why it hurt, or is so discolored. It's the shrinking and growing. She has been exercised to the point of exhaustion.
My heart and I? Have quite a bit in common.
So I stick with her.
Is it funny how I hold my breath for good news? Isn't it funny how happy I look when I do smile? Isn't it funny, I don't want medication to control my emotions and passions? Even when I feel utterly self deprecating? when I feel out of control? When I feel like I may destroy myself?
Why does the wreckage feel so right? Right now?
Here's a funny. Several funnies. I stopped to get gas, and noticed this hottie with a beard @ the Weigel's, and thought I had unlocked my car, of course, I had grabbed the handle and it was still locked. Classic!
Taking the dogs out, we had come in and I smelled poop. I checked my boots. I checked Tiger. I checked, yep, it was the big white elephant Champ. Clueless. He blinked at me. I blinked back. all 4 paws covered in poop. I wrangle Champ into the bath tub, and wash his feet. There was poop on the kitchen floor, here and there. Again. Classic Champ.
Unable to spray hornet nest. Unable to grab table off of barn. It will be mine. Ah ha. Yeah... it will be mine. Just you wait.
Discover and experience the life you were meant for. Insatiable voyeurism is our disease. All our efforts cant be for nothing. (I really want to see the Michael Myers movie.)
More Vonnegut, my love.
"For some people, getting pregnant is as easy as catching a cold." And there was certainly an analogy there: Colds and babies were both caused by germs which loved nothing so much as a mucous membrane.
How easily a teenage virgin could be made pregnant by the seed of a male who was seeking sexual release and nothing else, who did not even like her.
I am ruined. Or I am ruins. I am a cryptic message written in lemon juice, and you just got finished braiding your sister's hair, and she won't turn on the lamp to let you read it.
Even though you were sweet to her. (true story)
I am the night. (I am not, Darkwing Duck) I am IN the night. The moon is a half moon right now, so it's pretty dark. Champ needed to pee at 5 this morning, so I obliged the pups and we went outside. It was super dark. We walked up to the barn. We were all subdued and sleepy.(for once)
Quality, not quantity matters.
3 books I am buying this weekend.
The Great Divorce C.S. Lewis
It sucked, then I cried Heather B. (Awesome) Armstrong
Anything Bukowski
P.S. We have to hoard $25 dollar bottles of wine for the weekend. I'm going to be in the cellar if you need me. If you do need me, leave a note, and please address it as follows:
Dear Ms. Dear Heart:
English Cottage/Farm of Solace Rd. (Formally known as Piedmont Road)
Edge of the world, TN (AKA New Market)
State your business, plain and simple. Nothing hidden. Ms. Dear Heart will respond accordingly.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
No GUTS, No GLORY
Ah. 2nd blogpost.
Horoscope for Libra, August 13, 2009. (Lucky Day)
Yep, you truly have a profound effect on others. When it comes to your realationships (my spelling), (OR LACK THEREOF), people either absolutely adore you or hate your guts.
No middle ground. Same goes for romance. No wonder the sparks are flying.
I am rolling in the floor.
Horoscope for Libra, August 13, 2009. (Lucky Day)
Yep, you truly have a profound effect on others. When it comes to your realationships (my spelling), (OR LACK THEREOF), people either absolutely adore you or hate your guts.
No middle ground. Same goes for romance. No wonder the sparks are flying.
I am rolling in the floor.
IDK!!!!!
First, and foremost, I'm starting out with I don't care!! I feel rotten from the inside out. When I eat shit, I feel like shit. I have gained a pound, and it makes me mad. It makes me feel like hell. I realize, I have some form of that disease that when you look in the mirror, you see all the flaws?
Well, it's not that drastic. But it does make me feel cruddy.
I know. I'm lovely.
Older women, make beautiful lovers.....
Listen cracker, I got a bee in my bonnet, and apparently, it continues to sting me. I have a gorgeous idea for eggplant. My culinary skills? yes, they are lacking. Again. I don't care.
Have you? Have you become a fan of Oomph Image and Design? You should.
Susan Nason allows me to be her star and coaches me to do the flattering poses, even when they hurt like hell. You have no clue! Her work, is amazing. Inspiring. Her eye? Is flawless.
Obsessive? For perfection. She, is more than she knows.
Listen Angels, I am, come hell or high water.... spraying a hornet's nest tonight, and pulling that fucking table off the barn. I'm going to. (pray for me....)
It needs to be outside of my house. In the side yard. I think.
I am planning a get together. This is a warning. I am taking all of my vacation time.... in October.
The week of the 11th. Birthday week, and not because I am turning 30. Stay tuned. There will be spiked lemonade, as well as "unleaded" lemonade..... I expect, I hope, this is fair warning to you all.... since the lot of you live out of state. Bring your children. It should be cool enough for Champ to live it up outside and not turn a shade of bright red......
Do you remember the day you were married? I remember some frightening moments. Like looking down my nose, and seeing my veil. It made my heart stop beating.
I unfortunately remember everything good.
Crazy huh?
I'm sitting on the curb today. Waiting for the bus. Or, I'm all alone in the subway station, patiently waiting for my train. I am the worldy traveler, on a new path.
Map, slung open.... red marker, plotting my way. Except, I don't know where I am going.
Or going to land.
I have made a decision. I am going to live the life I imagine. Not the one, I am in presently. I have this drive of finding what I am looking for. Not U2. More, Diane Birch.
You know, I'm the girl in the silver SHORT dress. In the FMN heels. CFMN heels.
Except, I'm up in a tree, waiting on the fireman due to the flood that swept me up so high. You don't get it. I hate the view. I hate it. I'm way up in the trees with the birds. It's frightening.
Again. Nothing alike. God blessed snowflakes.
Maybe, Terry, he's a writer.... and has terrible writer's block. And the very vision of me will cause him to write a heart beating, thriving rose bush in the middle of winter opus......
You never know.
Maybe, I am playing that sick game, holding Fate's hands, and we are spinning as fast as we can..... eyes closed..... skirt full..... frilly socks, mary janes' thumping together.....
Well, it's not that drastic. But it does make me feel cruddy.
I know. I'm lovely.
Older women, make beautiful lovers.....
Listen cracker, I got a bee in my bonnet, and apparently, it continues to sting me. I have a gorgeous idea for eggplant. My culinary skills? yes, they are lacking. Again. I don't care.
Have you? Have you become a fan of Oomph Image and Design? You should.
Susan Nason allows me to be her star and coaches me to do the flattering poses, even when they hurt like hell. You have no clue! Her work, is amazing. Inspiring. Her eye? Is flawless.
Obsessive? For perfection. She, is more than she knows.
Listen Angels, I am, come hell or high water.... spraying a hornet's nest tonight, and pulling that fucking table off the barn. I'm going to. (pray for me....)
It needs to be outside of my house. In the side yard. I think.
I am planning a get together. This is a warning. I am taking all of my vacation time.... in October.
The week of the 11th. Birthday week, and not because I am turning 30. Stay tuned. There will be spiked lemonade, as well as "unleaded" lemonade..... I expect, I hope, this is fair warning to you all.... since the lot of you live out of state. Bring your children. It should be cool enough for Champ to live it up outside and not turn a shade of bright red......
Do you remember the day you were married? I remember some frightening moments. Like looking down my nose, and seeing my veil. It made my heart stop beating.
I unfortunately remember everything good.
Crazy huh?
I'm sitting on the curb today. Waiting for the bus. Or, I'm all alone in the subway station, patiently waiting for my train. I am the worldy traveler, on a new path.
Map, slung open.... red marker, plotting my way. Except, I don't know where I am going.
Or going to land.
I have made a decision. I am going to live the life I imagine. Not the one, I am in presently. I have this drive of finding what I am looking for. Not U2. More, Diane Birch.
You know, I'm the girl in the silver SHORT dress. In the FMN heels. CFMN heels.
Except, I'm up in a tree, waiting on the fireman due to the flood that swept me up so high. You don't get it. I hate the view. I hate it. I'm way up in the trees with the birds. It's frightening.
Again. Nothing alike. God blessed snowflakes.
Maybe, Terry, he's a writer.... and has terrible writer's block. And the very vision of me will cause him to write a heart beating, thriving rose bush in the middle of winter opus......
You never know.
Maybe, I am playing that sick game, holding Fate's hands, and we are spinning as fast as we can..... eyes closed..... skirt full..... frilly socks, mary janes' thumping together.....
Then again, who cares?
I realize, I touched on the fact I am turning 30. Someone insinuated this week, I will have some kind of spiraling meltdown. I doubt it. I, am a lady. Leaving the girl who wants you to drink tequila out of her belly button and lie to her. Hello, Classic Woman. I lift up everything in delicate, gloved hands. I dare you to touch her!
For fear of sounding pathetic, or off the beaten path to doubt, fear, and sadness. Whoops! This is reality, dear heart. I swear, you know, that glimmer of hope... she shines. It's just that, I cant wait. That's not so bad, is it?
I cant wait. But, I can, in the same pocket. I love alternate realities, and a scope I don't really have a clue about. I love the fact, that somewhere on the West Coast, there is a girl, just like me, dreaming. I LOVE, that she has the same dreams and fears. I LUV that she may look a leeetle like me......
Ah. We run tonight. Like wildcats. We run.
I told Jme yesterday afternoon, that men are like baby cougars. Cute as pie. Then, before you know it, they're tryin' to maul your face off, and fortunately for you, pitiful manfolk, we still find you precious. BULLSHIT!
My blog, has become my Mecca. I love it. It's my safe place. It's all about me, it's all about my obsession with pillows, my dogs, myself. Everything that is perfect, or not so perfect about me and my life. I hope it creates insight. This blog, helps me with my identity as a person.
HUH?
Yep. It helps to air out the Johnny Cash side of me mixed in with the girl who frantically plays dress up. I am a farmer. A lover. A nymph. I get hurt easily, due to the passion that burns to the outer edges of me..... I am shy, and then again, the center of the room.Faking it. Trying harder. Wanting attention. Are you gonna go my way? Look on the bright side. It's not fair. Please don't cheapen your role. Look me in the eye. If you want to, you should. Ask.If you still thinkofme, and not who you think it is. Far side of the moon. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Ladybird. Forgotten. Missed. Held. Fought. Won. It's all a game, just think of the other players. Shot in the dark. Open wide windows. Sucker. Photos of you, not me. You belong to someone else. That's a great thing. I am supposed to be your friend, that is my reason right now. Not word, for word, but I have thought about it since you said it. Ferocious. I just want more.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Pull the Plug
I am wicked stopped up today. Hmm? Allergies. Yes. Sinus? Check. Does it help Bryan and I worked out in the rain yesterday? Nah. But, God Bless America, the farm looks spectacular.
We were able to cut trees, clean out the smokehouse, haul off trash, brush, old T.V. stand that has sat in my yard for the past 8 months..... Yay! Crossing my fingers, I hope the yard was mowed today. I hear ya, rain yesterday. The lot of people who help me, are fearless. I kind suspect it to be done.
Continuing on to the wicked stopped up issue. Terry and I put on a show of local antics, last night. Dinner, of course, was sushi and Saki. Two things that make me a happy Paula. We went to Intimate Treasures. Found many outfits, shoes, and local fare to feast on with our eyes. We purchased some beautiful hosiery, and fondled said garters.
We revved our engines and took off to Chapman Hwy, and danced around The Disc Exchange. The smell of incense played in our noses, I felt dizzy, bu tin a good way. If we it had been an ice rink, and we were ice dancing, I could have pulled off a triple sow cow...... due to the fact I have righteous sniffles, Terry ended up buying me a packet of tissues with what else? Cowboys on them. Fancy!
Our night ended with a nightcap, that I unfortunately couldn't finish due to the fact my wine didn't taste very good. We blame allergies.
Which brings me to my fine point, Angels. The discussion up for grabs through sniffing, sneezing, and the atrocious fact I couldn't down a glass of Pinot Noir? (GASP!)
If I did meet my skateboarding/farming/lyrical genius/spy/bad-ass monocle wearing boyfriend today? Why!!! Sweetness, we couldn't meet on a park bench and make out for hours as planned. Pray for miracles. My body needs to be healed.
As we all know, he's just on the other side of the cellar door where fate has him unmercifully held until the perfect time.
TAKE 2!
I am terrified for all humanity. I Will drill it in my head. No carbs. Starts next week. Good thing, Terry asked today. I am already coaching my pitiful frame into not eating ANY CARBS!!!
No alcohol. Nothing sweet. Not even, any fruit. OH MY GOSH. He doesn't know, that my body is on it's way to my premenstrual cycle next week. Hell on wheels. BEEP BEEP!
We were able to cut trees, clean out the smokehouse, haul off trash, brush, old T.V. stand that has sat in my yard for the past 8 months..... Yay! Crossing my fingers, I hope the yard was mowed today. I hear ya, rain yesterday. The lot of people who help me, are fearless. I kind suspect it to be done.
Continuing on to the wicked stopped up issue. Terry and I put on a show of local antics, last night. Dinner, of course, was sushi and Saki. Two things that make me a happy Paula. We went to Intimate Treasures. Found many outfits, shoes, and local fare to feast on with our eyes. We purchased some beautiful hosiery, and fondled said garters.
We revved our engines and took off to Chapman Hwy, and danced around The Disc Exchange. The smell of incense played in our noses, I felt dizzy, bu tin a good way. If we it had been an ice rink, and we were ice dancing, I could have pulled off a triple sow cow...... due to the fact I have righteous sniffles, Terry ended up buying me a packet of tissues with what else? Cowboys on them. Fancy!
Our night ended with a nightcap, that I unfortunately couldn't finish due to the fact my wine didn't taste very good. We blame allergies.
Which brings me to my fine point, Angels. The discussion up for grabs through sniffing, sneezing, and the atrocious fact I couldn't down a glass of Pinot Noir? (GASP!)
If I did meet my skateboarding/farming/lyrical genius/spy/bad-ass monocle wearing boyfriend today? Why!!! Sweetness, we couldn't meet on a park bench and make out for hours as planned. Pray for miracles. My body needs to be healed.
As we all know, he's just on the other side of the cellar door where fate has him unmercifully held until the perfect time.
TAKE 2!
I am terrified for all humanity. I Will drill it in my head. No carbs. Starts next week. Good thing, Terry asked today. I am already coaching my pitiful frame into not eating ANY CARBS!!!
No alcohol. Nothing sweet. Not even, any fruit. OH MY GOSH. He doesn't know, that my body is on it's way to my premenstrual cycle next week. Hell on wheels. BEEP BEEP!
That's okay. We run tonight. Between now and then, he will read this, and probably be killed instantly by my words.
As I am sure, the lot of you just turned into dust as well. Good luck.
"Southern trees have strange fruit to bear." Billie Holiday
Monday, August 10, 2009
Witness!!!!
I saw someone today that ignored me, as much as I ignored them. What a great feeling when you don't have to play nicey-nice, when the bottom line is, we just do not like each other. We can be cordial, but that's it. I do not want to sit in their lap and play kissey-face, and they reciprocate the feeling. Thank God.
No questions of why do y'all not like each other? Y'all should talk. Nothing. I don't like them, and they don't like me.
That's mutual respect, honey.
I tell ya, being the token single girl feels like being the token black guy of a scary movie. Except I'm not dead yet. Yet. They ain't a man alive brave enough to try to kill me. Besides, I have a special list of my enemies..... who pray for their pitiful little lives. (fearing the strike!)
The point? Is I could have them killed in their sleep. Consider this your warning.
I am terrified that Michael Myers is on his way to kill me. Living in the woods and all the previews to the new film, make me pee my pants. They have him at like 9 ft. tall. I mean, I get it. Hes a scary bastard. I understand, HE MAY KILL ME.
Listen, Micheal Myers, you ain't foolin' this little chicken. You're a killer. You want to stab me, you want me dead. Catch me first, asshole.
I check my shower every night, when I come home, go to bed, and even when I get up. What a fucking bastard. I bet you hide by the water hose. Ass.
I did dream about you, which is even more disturbing. I dreamed I woke up, and you were sleeping like a FREAKING lamb in the bed beside me.
More bullshit.
More analyzing of "there may be a killer in your bed."
Go ahead, call Lifetime. I may have just used one of their movie titles.
Anyway, Michael Myers, you old patronizing son of a bitch.....
CALL ME!
No questions of why do y'all not like each other? Y'all should talk. Nothing. I don't like them, and they don't like me.
That's mutual respect, honey.
I tell ya, being the token single girl feels like being the token black guy of a scary movie. Except I'm not dead yet. Yet. They ain't a man alive brave enough to try to kill me. Besides, I have a special list of my enemies..... who pray for their pitiful little lives. (fearing the strike!)
The point? Is I could have them killed in their sleep. Consider this your warning.
I am terrified that Michael Myers is on his way to kill me. Living in the woods and all the previews to the new film, make me pee my pants. They have him at like 9 ft. tall. I mean, I get it. Hes a scary bastard. I understand, HE MAY KILL ME.
Listen, Micheal Myers, you ain't foolin' this little chicken. You're a killer. You want to stab me, you want me dead. Catch me first, asshole.
I check my shower every night, when I come home, go to bed, and even when I get up. What a fucking bastard. I bet you hide by the water hose. Ass.
I did dream about you, which is even more disturbing. I dreamed I woke up, and you were sleeping like a FREAKING lamb in the bed beside me.
More bullshit.
More analyzing of "there may be a killer in your bed."
Go ahead, call Lifetime. I may have just used one of their movie titles.
Anyway, Michael Myers, you old patronizing son of a bitch.....
CALL ME!
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