Room to Grow

My Dad's Band...

2009-09-14T20:55:43Z

Just for the record...

My dad's band, The Chrome Syrcus, opened for and played next to such bands as The Doors, Chuck Berry, Black Snake, The Byrds, Tim Buckley, Bo Diddley, It's A Beautiful Day, Led Zeppelin, Santana, Spirit, Vanilla Fudge, Tina Turner, H P Lovecraft, The Iron Butterflies, The Velvet Underground, and Pink Floyd to name a few. They were just one of those "Almost Famous" stories that you never get to hear about...

He also had a doctorate from UCLA in Music Composition, and won first place for his thesis in both composition and musicology, which wasn't even his field (though they awarded him with second place because of the politics involved.) He played with the Geoffrey Ballet Company during the 70s and actually wrote the score of the famous ballet, Astarte, and performed it live with his band. They toured all over Europe with the ballet company and would have had a record deal if his band members had been more ambitious, but they all wanted to get married and settle down, and in the end their lead guitarist (or was it the singer?) threw a fit and pissed off their agent, and they got dropped from their label.

Dad was incredibly talented. He could tell you what note you were playing from across the room by just hearing it. He could listen to any song and transcribe it into music notes in front of you. He could take a melody and turn it into a symphony in minutes. I'll miss him... but most of all I'll miss the projects we never got to complete. Hopefully there will be time for those later... somehow, in another life, or in the world after this one, wherever that may be.

A Letter to Someone.... (II)

2009-09-07T19:32:29Z

I think you are going to die soon.

I don't know why, but the feeling is overwhelming me that your time left here is short, and given the premonitions about my father's death, I am no longer going to doubt my intuition. Something is going to happen, and soon, maybe only a year from now... and that means you have a year to prepare your spirit for the greatest challenge we all face -- death, and what comes after.

I am beginning to think that I am brought into people's lives to ready them for this. I am beginning to think, on some strange level, this is my mission.

I don't know how to reach you. I can see you reaching for me, then pulling away, then reaching again... I think you are interested, but you are also doubtful, and that the doubt and fear is so strong that it stops you. Well, let it go. There is no doubt or fear on my end. I am open, and I want to help you; I want to put you at peace before you sail into that dark night. When you leave this world, I want you to know that all is well, the scales are balanced, and you have nothing to look back to.

I am here, waiting, and I can only wait, because pushing you too hard would push you away... but I can pray and hope, and hope that some day you will be open enough to ask me the questions that I know are burning your tongue. Just ask. I won't judge.

Rant...

2009-09-07T01:38:08Z

Because we all need to rant sometimes....

You're a huge fucking bitch and I hate you! I fucking hate you, you have NEVER been there for me, you have never dished out a penny at my expense, you're just a fat fucking fraud and I can't stand you. You walk around, pretending to be some angel, like you're some great, amazing, honest person, when really all you do is get pulled into senseless, stupid drama, fuck over friends you've had for FIFTEEN years, and kick them out of your house. Well FUCK YOU, you have no idea what you've done, one of these days I'm going to be so far past you in life that you're going to wonder what the hell happened, and I'll tell you what happened -- I GREW UP, and you stayed a fucking child, and you never got past that "lump" of "who am I?" and "why does it matter?" Well fuck you. Fuck you for laughing at me, for listening to what I say and mocking me, for screaming at me and doing me so wrong, so fucking wrong that I can't stand the memory of you. You're right, fifteen years down the fucking drain, and you're the one to flush the toilet. Well fuck you. If you think you're ever going to earn a ticket back into my life, then think again, because when someone fucks me over, I don't take them back. Life is short and unexpected, and wasting time on friends who don't deserve it is like a disease to the soul. I will not take you back, never, not if you kiss my ass, not if you apologize, not even if you fly the fucking 2000 miles to my doorstep and offer me a million dollars. You are not my friend. You never were, you never will be. You are a fake bitch who has deceived me since I was a child and now that I see your true colors, I am sick of you, so fucking sick of you... goddammit, just get the hell away from me and leave me alone. You're an asshole. A selfish, self-consumed, conceited asshole who ditches long-term best friends for a fucking boyfriend you've only known two months. Well I hope you're pregnant. I hope you're pregnant and stupid and marry the dumbass and think it's true love and then, ten years from now, be regretting every decision you ever made. Yes, I hope that for you, because goddammit you deserve it after how you treated me. You're a selfish bitch, and there's nothing worse in life than selfishness, and goddammit I'm not perfect but I sure as hell try when I can to be good to this world, and good to you, and if this is how you repay me then just FUCK OFF and go ruin someone else's life. I hate you. Don't you get it? I HATE YOU. I don't sit around and play myspace drama and send emails and spread rumors -- no, you fuck me, I cut you off, and that's exactly what I did, and exactly what you deserve, so stop messaging me, stop trying to apologize, stop calling me, and go away. Yes, you're forgiven. Now get the fuck out of my life and stay there.

Whew. Well that's better.

All that we are, and all that came before....

2009-08-30T00:13:00Z

Dad died.

It was a sudden heart attack. Completely unexpected. He was on vacation in Northern California and we had to drive 8 hours to get there... we got there in 6.... He was in a coma upon arrival since he had had a full on cardiac arrest in the car. They had resuscitated him, but his brain had been too long without oxygen and had already acquired permanent brain damage. By the next morning, he was gone.

This has been my worst nightmare since I was 12... I now have two houses, three cars, and tons of bills to worry about, and no job. Personally, I have no idea where I'm going to be in 6 months... but I'd like the world to know that I still love life, and I am still going to work my hardest to make this world a better place. If it means I must crawl on the streets, then so be it... but I know that Life has provided for me. I will find the way. I am powerful, and my faith is powerful, and in times like this one can really see the advantage that people of faith have over people of "no faith" -- I am full of hope, love, and ambition. I am full of direction. I will survive... somehow.

My father was a good man. I have no memory of him ever being mad at me, ever raising his voice, ever having a bad mood or a negative word. I loved my dad. I still do, and I know he's still here with me, watching over me, helping me every step of the way. I love dad so much. He was my friend, my confidante, my hero... he will be sorely, sorely missed. But in the same way, he was the one thing holding me back from being the powerful soul that I am. I am no longer afraid to go out there and face the world. With no one to protect me, I shall be my own protector. So fuck you, all you hateful, bitter, cynical jerks... I am a light that burns true and strong. I am my own lantern. I am my own powerhouse of spiritual strength and don't you ever forget it. Life is amazing. Although I know I will be suffering, I am looking forward to all the beautiful artwork that will come out of it. In a way, my soul feels home. My soul feels like this has always been me, that this suffering is familiar, that once again here I am, wrapped firmly in the sweet arms of depression and the unknown, with no safety net and no veil to hide me. Well, I don't need to hide anymore. I will save this world. I will save you all from yourselves. I do not need a shelter -- God is my shelter, and I will be yours.

I love you, Dad. I will miss you. But just know that everything you have taught me, all of your wisdom, your encouragement, your kindness and your thoughtfulness, will live on in me and through my actions. You will not be forgotten, not by a long-shot, and you have left a permanent mark on this world. Your permanent mark is kindness, and all of the people you moved and changed through your kindness, all of the dreams that came true and all of the doors you opened for the people around you. Dad, I will live to be like you, and carry on your dream. I will live and be kind.

I love you. Goodbye.

Take Me Away

2009-07-17T03:02:39Z

Take me away from the cascading dawn.

I wish not to walk by foot any longer, nor soar,

nor feel any of this confined space. Take me

from the rhythms that arise between us, from

the blank chords, the damaged, off-beat moments

that color and align; pluck me

from the grass and sky, erase me

as a whisper and disregard these words--

here, in the deep solace of the river, under

the tumbling fountain bridges that flow me

down to the pond, I would sleep

in the shade of the lower branches

where my lungs might sink,

where I might fill my breath with water,

where the shallows might sway me

in their musical silence,

in the echoing chambers of my heart.

A Few Thoughts

2009-07-15T19:53:10Z

So I've learned a few things upon this road of life. Here's some thoughts for today:

-- Surround yourself with kind and loving people. Why would you want to be around anyone else?

-- If there is a negative influence in your life, let it go.

-- Not all negative influences are 100% bad.

-- Pray, if only to feel like you have a purpose and direction. Often that is what leads us through our problems.

-- Be in harmony with the things you love. If you are a writer, do not fight against your writing. If you are a painter, do not feel bad or discourage yourself with painting. If you love a thing, do it, and don't waste time feeling frustrated. Skill comes with the three P's: Patience, practice, and progression.

-- Love what you do. It's yours.

How to be Cool in College

2009-07-14T08:09:39Z

1) Skip as many classes as possible, but when you're in class, make sure to have plenty of opinions about the material. Share them loudly and often.

2) Remember, the less "relevant" you find a class, the smarter you seem.

3) When asked a question, reply only in academic jargon. This will make your professors respect your impressive knowledge, and other students will see you as mysterious and elusive.

4) Don't decide on a major, or if you do, make sure it's not anything too serious.

5) Wear the same clothes that everyone else does - just make sure yours are more "you."

6) Don't talk about how cool you are. Make it apparent by criticizing others.

7) Talk on your cell phone as much as possible; people need to know how busy and important you are.

8) Never be seen without a hot girl by your side. Or if you're a chick, never be seen with less than three guys talking to you at once.

9) Drive your Jaguar to class and park it where everyone can see it.

10) Dye your hair at least three times a week, and make sure to wear plenty of makeup so you look natural. Also, if your ass doesn't fall out of your pants when you sit down, then they're not low enough. Remember girls, always wear heels! Three-inches are best; more pain, more gain!

11) Sunglasses speak louder than words. The bigger, the better -- unless you're a guy, then wear a hat, and make sure it's facing any direction but front.

12) Every sentence you say should be stylized by using the words "fuck", "sweet" or "whatever" at every possible opportunity. If you're a girl, cover up awkward pauses with the phrase "Like, you know."

13) Smoke cigarettes, weed, and drink beer at every opportunity. Learn how to be "alcohol savvy" - after all, it's only cool kids who drink these days, not loser alcoholics who can't hold down a job... that'll come in a few years.

14) Set your ringtone on extra loud and have your friends call you during class so everyone can hear your great taste in music. Oh, and flip off the teacher while you're at, in case he or she still thought you cared about the lecture.

15) Definitely don't hang out with that Theresa girl. She'll ruin your reputation for sure.

Hopefully these tips have helped you along your way to becoming a more popular, intelligent, well-rounded individual.

angel_fixation @ 2009-07-11T23:26:00

2009-07-12T06:28:55Z

That's it.

I'm done hiding.

I will not hide anymore, I am not a coward. I will be the mouthpiece god needs me to be in this world of hate. I will be a warrior. I will take my righteous anger and wield it as a sword - yes, my identity is enough, my love is enough, and so I will embrace it and fight. I am done waiting in silence. Now is the time for action. Move, or I will move you. I will find a way.

If not me, then who?

angel_fixation @ 2009-07-11T20:43:00

2009-07-12T03:44:14Z

Fun for you poetry buffs out there. Pick a book of your favorite poetry off the shelves (anthologies are better). For each question below, flip to a random page and find either a title of a poem or a chunk of the poem that answers the question. Have fun!

1.

Are you a male or female:
"Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers."

2.

Describe yourself:
"I am wood -- I write I'm plastic
I write playing my piano
I'm wood I'm plastic"

3.

How do you feel about yourself:
"I have been to lots of parties
and acted perfectly disgraceful
but I never actually collapsed"

4.

Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend:
"I did find the orchard
in a leafless season.
But [he] was not there.
And I was not there.
Dark, and rain in the air."

5.

Describe your current boy/girl:
So be it. I am
a wholeness I'll never know.
Maybe that's the best.

6.

Describe your current location:
"Long since that time I have walked night streets, heel-turn
clicking the stone, and in dark in windows have stared.
Question, quarry, dream -- I have vented my ire on
My own heart that, ignorant and untoward,
Yearns for an absolute that Time would, I thought be prepared,
But has not yet."

7.

Describe where you want to be:
"Down at the docks
Where everything is sweet and inclines
At night
To the sound of canoes
I planted a maple tree
And every night
Beneath it I studied the cosmos
Down at the docks."

8.

Your best friend is:
"Now let the cycle sweep us here and there,
we will not struggle."

9.

Your favorite color is:
"It is the third commonness with light and air"

10.

You know that:
"'God is dead,'
I tell him."

11.

What’s the weather like:
"With wind slicing in from everywhere,
And figures growing small. I may remember
Only a month of this. Or a God's hour."

12.

If your life was a television show what would it be called?
"Tokens"

13.

What is life to you:
"I am unhappy that I am not God,
I talk to myself and listen,
hoping to find in this dialogue
a hint of Him."

14.

What is the best advice you have to give:
"All I called mine
has gone or will go
from its place in the sun.
This we know,
and nothing can be done."

15.

If you could change your name what would it be?
"Rosemary"

Writing Progress

2009-07-09T20:20:15Z

Writing Progress
Blood of the Wolf	82,000 words	95% complete (editing/last chapter)
Tainted	60,000 words	50% complete, plotted, needs reworking.
The Winding Way	50,000 words	50% complete, somewhat plotted.

angel_fixation @ 2009-07-07T19:49:00

2009-07-08T03:10:52Z

Today I sat outside and prayed.

I looked down at the small ants that were crawling around my legs, and I wondered -- what use does God gain in being such a thing?

And then I wondered -- what does God have by being even the biggest thing? Nothing is as big as God.

And then I thought -- God can only know the concept of gain if it can know the concept of loss. That is why God is both the smallest and the biggest thing; to know the full range of what it means to be small and what it means to be big. God has nothing to gain except the knowledge of what it means to gain.

Summer Reading List

2009-06-09T20:50:40Z

Slow Up and Other Stories -- Julio Cortazar
Cosmicomics, -- Italo Calvino (Caluno?)
100 Years of Solitude -- Marquez
Anthologies -- William Libson -- Pattern Recognition
New Wave Fabulism
John Lethem -- Girl in Landscape, Amnesia Moon, As She Crawls Across the Table
Kelly Link
Parapherses: New Fabulism by Small Beer Press
Metamorphosis -- Kafka

Blood of the Wolf Chapter 7 end

2009-06-05T01:12:55Z

"Please Seth... please... put the gun down!

"Babe, don't distract me right now--"

"Seth!

He pushed her back further and the black werewolf laughed; Jaime caught a glimpse at his gun arm, at the sleek muzzle of the pistol. She couldn't stand this -- between two males this dominant and bullheaded, somebody was going to get killed. She sure as hell didn't want it to be her....

Äw, is the poor girl scared?" Tabari laughed, his wide grin splitting his face. Jaime found herself reminded of Seth's smile, but this one was worse somehow; broader, more deranged. Something slightly compulsive about it. "Why don't you just come over here, little lady, and no one will get hurt."

Jaime bit her lip. She had shot down the last offer, but now she didn't see much of a choice. She could let Tabari shoot Seth, but then she would never get her revenge, and the whole trip would have been for nothing... and she would still have to deal with these three.

What Resides

2009-05-26T02:16:52Z

What Resides

That little cottage

sitting on a dark hill,

overlooking

what once was a silver place,

as moonlight

guided all of the spirits

to their destinations.

That little cottage

which stands lonely now,

when it was abandoned by the Wind.

Only silence has come to claim it,

that silver tongue, slipping through the windows

and all of the cracks in the floor

which never speak,

which stand mute and pervasive in that dark place,

in the shadows behind chairs,

echoing the smoke stains of the heart.

The closet door stands open,

the only words left in this house, telling me

You once shut this door on yourself

and lived here,

in all the hidden corners of a child's closet--

I was the doll.

This was the paper boy come to claim my Night.

I closed that cottage door and

locked it.

Only black dreams are whispered here.

A Letter to Someone

2009-05-22T18:19:25Z

As always, it is at the front of my mind that you will die.

It is true that deeper than my own mortality, I am afraid for yours. I feel that I have not taken from you all that I need, and it will never be enough, I will never have enough from you and when you are gone, it will be an eclipse that withers my world. In what earth will I sink my roots? In what winter shall I bloom, a new soul, a new life that begins the day yours ends? There would be no tomorrow; there would be no return. Would I find a love that replaces yours? Impossible. Inevitable. Unthinkable.

All I know is that your end shall be the catalyst. Such sorrow will inevitably lift me to heights never before seen, never before known, because that is the temperance of my heart. It is true that every eclipse leads to revelation -- that we must lose the deepest parts of ourselves in order to build ourselves anew. That in losing half of my heart, my own soul will grow it back, and this time it will be strong enough to carry the whole world.

What the Grass Said

2009-05-05T02:09:48Z

The tall grass sleeps against the wall;
we speak and listen in turns.
I have to wonder how I sound to the tattered ground leaves
and the buzzing nets in the shadows--
I am sure,
  as I speak of many things that my textbooks would rather not say,
that the grass doesn't understand why I pace on, fretting about
  islands,
   or the oceans between them.

I pause for breath in the sleepy shade,
a humming place where I enter the ground
and the grass hollows after me,
speaking as a tunnel:

Why would anything wish
  to prove that it is nothing?
We have known for eons
  that each blade stands apart from the rest--
But we are all counted as carpet.

Shall I tell the grass that it does not exist?
That its roots are only in language,
   and without my voice, it would simply be a sliding thing--
slipping into everything else.
No, dear grass,
you are only a carpet that I made, when
I decided you were for walking.

I know the grass laughs.
It laughs as the air laughs back at me,
throwing pale echoes in my face.

Dear soul,
you are not the worm,
you are not the sun.

angel_fixation @ 2009-04-22T12:00:00

2009-04-22T19:20:47Z

Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko is a story of a Laguna boy who goes through hell and back, only to find that in the end, he can only heal if he forgives himself. As an American Indian boy who is half white and half Laguna, Tayo's conflict with his own identity can be compared to the struggles of the Laguna people as a whole. Tayo's guilt, shame, and war-related trauma can be related to the overall suffering of the Laguna people, who also experience guilt and shame from having sold their native land to white Europeans. Silko shows us through Tayo's struggles that the key to healing the Native American tribes may be through forgiving themselves, and reconciling their traditional culture with Western civilization.

In Ceremony, Tayo is a boy of the Laguna Pueblo people who suffers from severe guilt. He is a mixed blood, someone who is half-Indian and half-white, and for most of his life he has been made to feel a burden to his family because of his impure bloodline. When Tayo and his cousin Rocky enlist to go to war, Tayo promises he'll look out for Rocky and bring him back safe. However, Rocky ends up dying from a grenade blast, and Tayo returns home with extreme mental trauma, feeling he has let down his family and that he was the one who should have died, not his cousin. This is intensified by the fact that upon his return, he finds out that his uncle Josiah has died, and Tayo's promise to help out with his uncle's cattle herds is also unfulfilled. He is left to deal with his problems alone until he finally accepts the help of a medicine man who will enact a complicated ceremony to heal him.

This relates to the plight of the Laguna Pueblo people in several different ways; Tayo's mistreatment as a half-blood could show a conflict in the Laguna tribe. Many times Silko mentions the guilt of the Laguna people throughout the book, talking about how the tribe blames themselves for having sold away the earth. Silko states that the Laguna people feel as though it is their own fault for selling away the land. They feel that their disrespect and mistreatment of the land is what led to the situation they are in today, and it is their punishment for betraying the earth; Silko writes "The blame on the whites would never match the vehemence the people would keep in their own bellies, reserving the greatest bitterness and blame for themselves" (235). This can be related to Tayo because he blames himself for his own mixed blood, and for having brought so much shame to his family.

It is also significant that Tayo's healing ceremony is more of a “hybrid ceremony” than a traditional one. Betonie, the medicine man, mixes many old world items with things that can only be found in the new, such as calendars and shopping bags (111). Silko states that the medicine man and his ceremonies had been criticized for being new and different, but the medicine man tells Tayo that "after the white people came, elements in this world began to shift, and it became necessary to create new ceremonies" (116). He continues to tell Tayo that all things must change, and if the Indian tribes don't continue to progress and adapt, they will suffer and die: "Things which don't shift and grow are dead things... But [growth] has always been necessary, and more than ever now, it is. Otherwise we won't make it. We won't survive" (116). However, it is also notable that Western medicine alone failed to cure Tayo, and he needed to return to his roots before he could begin to recover. This instance in the book could allude to the idea that before the Laguna people can heal themselves -- or all Native Americans, for that matter -- they need to reconcile their traditional heritage with the new Westernized world. Silko's message, in this sense, is that holding onto the past and waiting for the old ways to return may not be healthy for the Native American tribes, and that they should look to the future and try to combine the two. Tayo had to come to terms with his mixed blood and guilt before he could find forgiveness for himself and happiness.

In the end, Tayo states that the lie that had poisoned him was the same lie that was poisoning the white people, and through Silko's writing, it can be interpreted that the lie is separation, the idea that some races are superior to others, and that we were made different from each other: "You don't write off all the white people, just like you don't trust all the indians" (118). What Tayo learns by the end of the book is that we are all the same, that there are Indians who are bad just as there are white people who are good. It is racism and tradition that separate the two, and in a sense, those are the lies that are most damaging.

As Tayo recovers step by step through the book, Silko shows us how the Laguna people must also recover from their own guilt and shame. Ceremony is not just a book about the struggles of a Native American boy, but of an entire nation and people. Although Silko's message is not necessarily the only way the Native American tribes can recover and move into the 21st century, it is definitely a prevalent one, and worthy of some consideration. At least for Tayo, finding forgiveness for himself is what allowed him to find happiness and, finally, peace.

In Bad Taste....

2009-04-20T02:10:17Z

It seems that there has been some confusion among the readers of some of my prose.

For a thing to be written "in bad taste," it does not mean it is written "badly" or "poorly." It means it is vulgar, and stylistically contains material that is dirty, obscene, or offensive in quality. Something can be written very well and still be in bad taste.

Dreaming

2009-04-13T02:01:37Z

When I see you --
    dreaming --
I always find a way
   to warn you,
be careful,
    be careful because
you might get sick
    and die.

Careful,
I seem to recall
   that you were sick once,
sick and dying.
You got better, though?
Or is this still before?
   Before that thing, that thing that happened,
the bad thing
I can't quite remember why
     but why do I feel
like I haven't seen you
in such a long time?
I've missed you.

What happened?
I've missed you.

And then sickening, cringing,
   drowning
as I remember another dream,
a dream within the dream
   where I woke up
and you were gone,
    a long time gone,
so cold and gone.

Shade

2009-04-13T01:58:00Z

It was a dream
   where I faced you last,
some otherworld
   where your shade
         met mine.
Because what disturbs me
    is not that it might be you,
or from you,
    or of you,
but rather nothing like you
    except the stubborn child
of my mind,
    a child past--
insisting,
    shouting,
         yelling
that your silhouette is something real.

I touched it once,
   knowing it was a dead woman
dreaming.

Somehow, she never
   came back to life.

We are walls....

2009-04-13T01:41:46Z

In this way,
   we are walls,
built of brick and clay.
   Strong, to hold the difference
as a floor
    differs from a roof.
And yet some of us are floors,
   happy to support,
to be the firm tiles or boards
   that the rest of us may
        walk on.
Even less of us are roofs,
    nor should we really need them --
those tight capped
     locked down
           gates against the stars,
     a lid to block out sunlight,
few plants can live indoors.

It is in this way we are walls,
   keeping separate floor and roof,
Holding carefully the beams
    so that none may tilt
          or splinter --
For without walls there is no shelter,
    no place from weather,
          lock nor key;
with no walls, we are all flat
     ongoing lines,
        indefinitely.

All things return from winter....

2009-04-13T01:36:04Z

A softer gold,
   and suddenly the eys
        are seeing,
the wind has cooled,
   and I remember fading things,
like the strength of winter,
   a season close to death,
        if death is anything
             like sleeping.
Or freezing.
   They say death is nothing,
        the onset of nothingness,
    like a disease.
But even a disease is living,
   even a disease grows and evolves;
death is always the same.
I don't know where it goes,
   that nothing,
that empty that spreads from empty,
     only that it must be
          different from winter,
because all things return from winter,
                  except the dead.

angel_fixation @ 2009-03-29T16:39:00

2009-03-29T23:45:26Z

Wind Chimes

Does anyone hear
   the tingling
oh sweet mingling
      of the bells?
When the wind
    blows around here,
we hear a
flutter of fairy dust
and of tiny footsteps,
   dancing
oh so laughing,
just the passing
   of the
bells.

Shitty, shitty date....

2009-03-26T18:52:18Z

So I went on a date last night.

I go on dates now and then... you know, just to break up the routine. Anyway, the date started out well... to be honest, it was a third date. The first time, the guy showed up at my house wearing a velvet blue coat, long hair tied back in a pony tail, sky-blue sneakers and skinny jeans. Not my idea of style, thank you very much. That look might work on sixteen-year-old boys, but not twenty-two-year-old half-men creatures who are supposed to be impressing me.

Anyway, first date bombed, but he was funny and nice so I went on a second date. It was better, but he tried to kiss me after only half an hour, and that was a little too fast for me. Slow down there, Blue Velvet. Not sure if I want to try out those lips yet. Ew. I left soon after.

Third date happened... much more fun this time, still didn't kiss, he backed off after the original rejection and now neither of us knew what we were doing. It was destined to fail.

Then last night happened. We went to dinner, got sushi, ate, only to find out that I'M THE ONE PAYING THE BILL. What the fuck? Pardon my French, but I need some warning if I'm going to be paying for a date -- not just have it dumped on me.

The way he let me know was confusing too. We ate, afterwards he said, "Thank you, by the way."

Me: "Huh?"

Blue Velvet: "Oh, I thought you were paying this time."

Me: "Uh... well, I mean, can we go halves? I don't have a job right now and money is a problem." Did I mention that he is a programmer and rents his own house and pays for his own car?

Blue Velvet: "I would, but I left my wallet in the car, and I only have a card... I have six dollars at my house though." The meal cost me $20. His dinner was more than half of that.

I don't have a job right now. I don't have money. I recently spent three hellish nights babysitting a dying dog so I could scrounge together enough money to buy myself some new clothes and a birthday present for my friend.

What kind of man lets a woman buy him dinner? Shameful. Instead of men taking care of women, we're breeding a society where men get full advantage -- they get gorgeous companionship, entertainment, sex, and then free dinners. No. Men and women are different. Men should take pride in caring for women, because we need each other, and if you buy me dinner and treat me like a queen, then I'll return the favor in all the wonderful ways that women CAN return favors. Just give me some respect. That's all I ask.

Which, by the way, I don't find sex jokes on dates cute. They're rude. And offensive. And leave me feeling uncomfortable.

Wasted time... yet what is "when" and what is "wasted"?

2009-03-12T19:17:50Z

I have searched harder, found more, wasted less, and yet I'm still behind.

But is there such a thing as wasted time? I am constantly reminding myself that every footstep I take is necessary. Every new bump along this road is something I need to pay attention to, to notice for those who don't notice, so that at some point I may teach them what they overlooked. I have asked to be some form of messenger; I don't know what that entails, but some people seem to be born with it and I would like to think of myself as born again with it. Thus, life teaches me. Life teaches everyone, but I have always been a good student. Some just absorb faster than others. Sometimes I think I've been here before, and this is somehow all a way for me to remember what I'm supposed to already know. It's like a crash course, a quick review before the big test. Except there is no real test. A test is something to dread -- this, I look forward to. A test is something you worry about passing. This, I feel as though I already passed.

Wasted time... but everything I run across is necessary. Wisdom isn't supposed to feel light and flitty, or uncertain -- wisdom is universal, I think, and contains that same universal feeling of deepseated, indescribable confidence. That thing that says -- "this is how it is, how it always was, how it will be." That unerring judgment born of experience. I want wisdom, but in my eagerness, I forget that wisdom does not come from rushing, but from waiting. Wisdom does not come only from experience, but from the joining of experience and observation. One must reflect, look at themselves and ask who and why.... always always always, why.

I am ready, and yet I'm not ready. I know I can do it, but I don't know what I must do. I feel that push, that push push push... and yet what direction? Where is the road? Faith is blind, and I don't know where I am walking, only that I must trust I will be led in the right direction. That is the easy part. The hard part is waiting.

I look back on wasted time --
yet what is when,
and what is wasted?
Can you count minutes like they're money?
Can you buy back one more day?
We're either pushing pushing pushing
   or crying stay, stay, stay....
but in this life of 'stop and go'
we haven't time to break away....

Does a flower waste its winter?
Does a redwood waste its youth?
Who am I to tower
   when only anthills
can be moved?
I would seek a greater hour,
a higher time,
   a better place --

But out of fear of wasted words,
    I'll hold off
          for one more day.