simon says

He said, "I am content".

1443. Paolo Uccello, painted the figures of the clock of Duomo. A one handed clock that tells time counter clockwise. This method was perfectly normal at that time. Today we have the words 'counter clockwise'. Time changes you, changes beliefs - with words, actions, fear...with so many emotions. I can tell you that at one point, I thought I could accept being content and the word settling became okay with me.

Until I realized how important words and their meanings use to mean to me. Happy. You can look that word up and the word contentment is listed as one of the adjectives. What made the hand of that clock described as 'counter clockwise'? Modeled after the hands of the sun dial. That is how clockwise came to be. Being true to myself with all the gratitude, dignity, anguish; with every emotion coming through...that is how I will choose to be happy.

He asked, "Why are you here?"

This is bigger than us. There is something here that we need help with and we can not do it alone. There is a meditation technique called Sufi meditation. In this type you have a mentor/Shaykh that leads you to find that connection in self examination. Maybe we need you to help us see our weaknesses, you are our Shaykh. I need to come out of this dark recess in my heart. To allow it to breath so that I don't suffocate everything else that is good. The 'bridge between illusion and reality'. 'See thru the eye of the heart'. I am doing the best I can at this moment, we are here because we want to do better.

And to you - JML - thank you. Forever a place in not only my heart, but my soul...always respect and admiration.

Going bare..

I started this for a reason right?

"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them."- Galileo. This pivotal point in my life. Full of confusion and this pit in my stomach.

I was waiting behind a 18 wheel truck the other day. In traffic, listening to Echo and the Bunnyman, thinking....Am I a coward? What of my brakes didn't work, and I went car first into the back of this truck. Now, I would NEVER think to end my life but I did think back to when I was 13, freshman year in high school. Institutionalized (is that the word) for an incident. And I smiled. Because I could be anybody there. And I could scream in a padded room. And I had people who understood that it was okay to be alone and to cry when I wanted to. And I didn't have to be strong, or a leader, or showing fear was ok. And I think I have unfinished business. And thinking about that makes me weak, a coward.

I want to scream at him. To spit in his face. I want to tell him it had no effect on me. But I also want truth. And the truth is, he did. I second guess my EVERYTHING. I cry almost every other day at the frustration I feel that I can't get him out of my life. Any of them. Any of those that hurt me. And the lack of control I had. And now I am realizing I don't need to be in control. I can let go, I can be free with love and honesty.

And I just really want to feel the same from somebody.

Reactions

So, Saturday night, bottom of left eye swells to a balloon, severe stomach cramps, bleeding, left eyelid swells, hives form all over body. Heart racing. I know something is wrong. Dave rushes home, leaves work, takes me to emergency room. I can barely see now, and I am in a walking fetal position. Get to hospital - they look at me, take me right in. IV's, epipen, steriods, the works.

NO Idea how this happened. Doctors baffled. Me, now drowsy and in and out from drugs...not the kind of drugs I want to be in and out from either.

Point of story. I was scared. Not only from this allergic reaction, but the reactions of my friends and family. I know I looked like Sloth from Goonies but to know that this could happen with no control over when and why...this leads to bad reactions.

We have already established that I have a tendency to have a problem with control, this was no bueno.

Now, my face is still slightly askew, and I know on wednesday I should find out what happened...but the thought of these type of reactions happening at any given time could very well be the death of me as I know it.

Red Patent Leather Shoes

I have an addictive personality. There, it has been said. I have thought about this often. And sometimes I tend to disagree with myself as I really have an addiction to control. One immense addiction.

Control is my gateway addiction. Because of it I either shop or don't eat. Because of control I often look like Oprah bouncing up and down with my weight. Because of it, when I am fat Oprah, I have awesome shoes. Shoes I will never wear. Awesome shirts that look great on me and again, that I will never wear. I have around 16 pairs of black slacks. About 19 pairs of jeans. Over 13 pairs of various tennis shoes.

And I just went down a pant size.

Which addiction do I have now?

I looked up addiction, because I thought to myself...could addiction be a good word...could I be addicted to exercise, or philanthropy....or donating toys for tots...

Positive addiction: where the benefits outweigh the costs. So YES!!! There is the possibility of it being positive. What fun is that?

I would be semi normal if that were the case. With my negative addiction, I am normal. The one time I am so confused on which type of normal I want to be.

The point of all this is yesterday I went and I bought myself some red, patent leather peep toes high heeled shoes. Shoes I will probably never wear but they were so cute! Glossy and shiny and red.

Addicted.

And I just went down a pant size.

Control. Ugh. Sigh. Arms in air.

Its not that I need it. I just need something to shock me. To be normal. To be consistent. Instead of my mind racing and going back and forth and what is right and what is wrong and how am I living my life and is this love real and why do I always run and why why why??!!

Deciding that hummus is my new best friend (and peppers) or that I must have those red patent leather peep toe high heel shoes...well, much simplier. (Is that a word?) Much easier. My breathing slows down and I can look at myself in a different sort of restlessness.

Addiction. Control. Going hand in hand I think.

He has never said he loves me. And I have no control over that.

OK, here I go

I started something like this before. On live journal. Didn't happen. I don't even know if this will be for myself, or for others. The point of blogging is what, exactly? To benefit all you know, including yourself? What if that is the problem?

This day, this point in my life..daily confusion. Weekly cries. Depression is not the correct definition of my woes. Indifference? Complacency?

I was told last week my soul is new. That's why I want to explore and my mind runs crazy with thoughts...because my soul has not lived. I've been thinking a lot about that. My soul is new, is young, has not lived. Who decides that? When does my mind and my soul begin to connect because I don't think that is anyones position to say, except for me.

I was told that I am restless. A free spirit. Again, I must disagree.

Restless by definition is unable to stay still, or quiet. "I want friends that will leave me alone when being alone is all that I need". I am not restless. I am tortured.

Tortured: anguish. Agony, to pervert or distort something physically or mentally. My minds distortions, maybe this is why I put pen to paper. Hand to keyboard. Keyboard to screen.

A free spirit. Now, this accusation - I don't know how to take. A nonconformist. Someone with a highly individual attitude or imagination. Someone who acts irresponsibly. One who is not restrained. I could fit some of those on most days, and I could fit some of those on other days. What does that mean?

Definitions of words amaze me. They have these books and online services that tell you what those words mean. They are labeled as nouns, verbs, pronouns. And when we use them in complete sentences, everybody knows exactly what we are talking about.

Except in poem. Because art is subjective. So then it allowed to say, "Your pain is a thorn in my life" and we all know that that truly this man does not literally have a thorn causing him pain in his life.

I use words to fit my moods or my thoughts and they say, "thats not correct".

Maybe I am choosing to live my life in poem.