I accomplished 3 out of the 4 things I set out to do yesterday.
I feel...ok. I'm not freaking out, yet. I need to be more regular on my medication however..I've been neglecting taking it some days and most days I'm not taking it at the same time. Antidepressants are not good to fool around with like that.
I'm realizing how great my life is. Really. I'm not exactly anywhere close to where I thought I would be at any given time in my youth but honestly..wtf do we know about life when we are that young? I feel good. My family is happy and healthy..I have met the best guy ever...so far...I'm optimistic about it though. I have money in my bank and the opportunity to do pretty much whatever I want. I'm still young and I'm making good decisions for myself based on what I want to do ..not what everyone else thinks I should do. I feel accountable for my decisions and am being smarter and more responsible about them.
I also have two lovely kitties. :) just had to add that in b/c they are so cute right now sleeping on my bed :D
I think I want to take a few art classes. I suck at drawing and everything but maybe there is an outlet there (besides dance) with which I could really connect. It's an avenue I haven't really explored beyond writing and making collages when I was younger.
Anyway, all for now.
Kiss,
Jen.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
dreams
Dreams 2
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
AT first, in this dream, I am the famous man’s wife. I am standing in a room at his comedy premier, in this huge building, and I’m surrounded by people, one specifically I know is Robert Deniro, but I’m faded, they don’t see me, I’m washed out, invisible in the midst of all this money and beauty, and they are talking about my husband, wondering who his wife is, and I become more bitter and sad as the conversation continues around me, until finally I explode upon all of them, admitting that yes, I am his wife, I’m here, and I can hear them, I know what they are saying and it’s unkind, unkind to talk about someone when they are there, when they are aware of what you are saying...i turn to look out the window, tears in my eyes and see my children, playing, and motion them to me now, they are the only thing in life that brings me joy.
Then the dream shifts a bit forward and it’s after the premier. Im gorgeous now, absolutely stunning, who am I? I’m wearing bracers (wrist bracelets, long like gloves, but only reach from your wrist halfway up your arm), beautiful stone and gem objects, worthy of worship. The comedian stands in front of me, without his shirt and my dream self recognizes him as my benefactor, a friend, that I depend on dangerously for money. The air is a little tense, for I know he’s in love with me and I fear the moment when he will make it known, because I shall be forced to either sleep with him and ruin his marriage, or walk away...without my benefactor. I know that either way it will come to an end soon because I can see he can’t hold his feelings in much longer. I uneasily watch him. I remind him of how much I value his friendship. His eyes are on my skin, on my bracers, he can’t take his eyes off of them. They are a work of art, he announces, worthy of worship. He removes his pants and is standing in front of me, and I close my eyes because I don’t want it to come to this....He asks me to undress, leaving only the bracers on. The world stops, and I stand still in it, not breathing, and I know I can’t do this thing.
Just then his wife comes in and sees him in this state. She is who I was earlier, the plain, invisible woman who’s only joy now is in her children. She trembles in anger and asks him what’s going on, without looking in my direction. She wants to make me invisible, but it’s not possible, I am too stunning. I know I hurt her just by existing. He tells her he’s in love with me, he can’t hide it any longer. I can’t take anymore of this, I scream, I tell him no, he’s crazy, spitting madness, I run from the room in a panic and bolt down the stairs, I’m on another landing now and I look for a door, it’s white and it has the number 4 written on it. (There was also a number 7 door, perpendicular to this one, I choose the number 4, later in my dream I choose 7 and it’s a wasteland, empty inside, and I know that nothing is good on this floor)
I enter the room number 4 to try to escape from him, and I know that I’ve been here before, as in a lot of my dreams I’ve lived through them in some reality and I know the possible outcome to be had.
Let me take a moment to describe the room. Open entering the room, one always finds oneself in the exact same place in the room, which is on the green carpeted floor about 6 feet from the white door, which is always open a little to show you a view of outside,which is no longer a building corridor but a green pasture with a river, waterfall, beautiful nature surroundings. Inside the room, which is pink, that doll room shade pink, is a girl, about 14-16 years old, and she’s dressed in a prairy dress, a baby doll dress, pink and light blue and yellow are the colors of her dress. Her hair is up in ribbons, and overall you gain the feeling that you are in a dollhouse of sorts, that hasn’t ever changed and time doesn’t effect.
She’s delighted im here, and of course, she should be, for she holds an evil power over those who enter. In her room, which is small, is a white closet. In that closet, she can pull out whatever you want, whatever will encourage you to stay, but somewhere on a shelf in that closet, is an object never far from her hand. It’s a painting. A painting of...well...noone who has ever seen it has made it back out to tell of it. But those who have made it out said it is a painting she holds up for you to view. And if you view it, if your eyes rest upon it, you are her prisoner, her toy, her visitor, throughout eternity. You can never leave.
I’ll take a minute, just a second to describe her personality, for it won’t take longer than that. She’s bubbly, eager, wants you to be her friend, is delighted you are here. She is naive, and a little stupid, but something lies under her desperate eagerness...the knowledge that she will try to make you stay forever, and you can see it in a glimpse in her eye, a sharp look, that changes her childish features from innocent to horrific.
She stands before me now, and this is the second time I’ve been in this room. (The first time didn’t occur in this dream, yet I have a memory of it) The first time I bolted out the partially opened door as soon as my body hit the floor. But there is a problem this time. I’ve just been to the comedian’s opening show and I’m a little drunk. I’m more than a little drunk, I can barely see straight. And there on the floor in front of me is the previous victom, all shriveled, turned purple, a barely living corpe, unable to talk, only to open it’s mouth in a silent plea, it’s shriveled hands grasping at nothing. I know now that she must be really desperate, this girl, for her play thing is almost dead. I know she will do everything to make me stay.
She reaches into the white closet, and I know I don’t have long. She is programmed for formalities though, for trickery, naive trickery, and she truly wants to make me comfortable, though I know what end is in mind, even if she in all her insanity doesnt grasp what she does. She sees I am drunk, and offers me a drink. A rum, she wants to know if i want rum on ice. I tell her yes, and she reaches into the closet, then in a moment her desperate need for me to stay fills her and she instead changes her mind and says she has to show me something now. I know the painting is coming and I clear my mind long enough to insist upon a drink, I tell her no, I want to see her picture but I must must have a drink first. She tries weakly to argue but she really believes she must trick me to stay, so again, she reaches into the closet, this time she says to get me the drink,and as her back is turned to me I find my way onto my feet, swaying, I look towards the partially open door, I see the green pasture in front of me, and I try to take a step...
And she is in front of me, and she is evil, and she is holding the painting. I cover my eyes with my hands but I have viewed a piece of it. Through blurred perception I saw clearly the bottom half of the painting...and I know what it is, it’s red flowers, in an organized pattern, tiny bright red flowers dance before my eyes and i rush past her, I refuse, I exit through the door into the sunlight and she screams and chases me. She becomes larger than life and I am tiny, a worm in the dirt, and i can’t move fast enough now but I am outside, and her power is useless, I instead climb on her and cover her with my slime, to punish her for what she has put me though, in hatred. She holds me, a tiny worm, and cries....and I know I’ll be okay now, reality will return, though I know I’ll never be the same since I’ve glimpsed, if only for a second, that painting.
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
AT first, in this dream, I am the famous man’s wife. I am standing in a room at his comedy premier, in this huge building, and I’m surrounded by people, one specifically I know is Robert Deniro, but I’m faded, they don’t see me, I’m washed out, invisible in the midst of all this money and beauty, and they are talking about my husband, wondering who his wife is, and I become more bitter and sad as the conversation continues around me, until finally I explode upon all of them, admitting that yes, I am his wife, I’m here, and I can hear them, I know what they are saying and it’s unkind, unkind to talk about someone when they are there, when they are aware of what you are saying...i turn to look out the window, tears in my eyes and see my children, playing, and motion them to me now, they are the only thing in life that brings me joy.
Then the dream shifts a bit forward and it’s after the premier. Im gorgeous now, absolutely stunning, who am I? I’m wearing bracers (wrist bracelets, long like gloves, but only reach from your wrist halfway up your arm), beautiful stone and gem objects, worthy of worship. The comedian stands in front of me, without his shirt and my dream self recognizes him as my benefactor, a friend, that I depend on dangerously for money. The air is a little tense, for I know he’s in love with me and I fear the moment when he will make it known, because I shall be forced to either sleep with him and ruin his marriage, or walk away...without my benefactor. I know that either way it will come to an end soon because I can see he can’t hold his feelings in much longer. I uneasily watch him. I remind him of how much I value his friendship. His eyes are on my skin, on my bracers, he can’t take his eyes off of them. They are a work of art, he announces, worthy of worship. He removes his pants and is standing in front of me, and I close my eyes because I don’t want it to come to this....He asks me to undress, leaving only the bracers on. The world stops, and I stand still in it, not breathing, and I know I can’t do this thing.
Just then his wife comes in and sees him in this state. She is who I was earlier, the plain, invisible woman who’s only joy now is in her children. She trembles in anger and asks him what’s going on, without looking in my direction. She wants to make me invisible, but it’s not possible, I am too stunning. I know I hurt her just by existing. He tells her he’s in love with me, he can’t hide it any longer. I can’t take anymore of this, I scream, I tell him no, he’s crazy, spitting madness, I run from the room in a panic and bolt down the stairs, I’m on another landing now and I look for a door, it’s white and it has the number 4 written on it. (There was also a number 7 door, perpendicular to this one, I choose the number 4, later in my dream I choose 7 and it’s a wasteland, empty inside, and I know that nothing is good on this floor)
I enter the room number 4 to try to escape from him, and I know that I’ve been here before, as in a lot of my dreams I’ve lived through them in some reality and I know the possible outcome to be had.
Let me take a moment to describe the room. Open entering the room, one always finds oneself in the exact same place in the room, which is on the green carpeted floor about 6 feet from the white door, which is always open a little to show you a view of outside,which is no longer a building corridor but a green pasture with a river, waterfall, beautiful nature surroundings. Inside the room, which is pink, that doll room shade pink, is a girl, about 14-16 years old, and she’s dressed in a prairy dress, a baby doll dress, pink and light blue and yellow are the colors of her dress. Her hair is up in ribbons, and overall you gain the feeling that you are in a dollhouse of sorts, that hasn’t ever changed and time doesn’t effect.
She’s delighted im here, and of course, she should be, for she holds an evil power over those who enter. In her room, which is small, is a white closet. In that closet, she can pull out whatever you want, whatever will encourage you to stay, but somewhere on a shelf in that closet, is an object never far from her hand. It’s a painting. A painting of...well...noone who has ever seen it has made it back out to tell of it. But those who have made it out said it is a painting she holds up for you to view. And if you view it, if your eyes rest upon it, you are her prisoner, her toy, her visitor, throughout eternity. You can never leave.
I’ll take a minute, just a second to describe her personality, for it won’t take longer than that. She’s bubbly, eager, wants you to be her friend, is delighted you are here. She is naive, and a little stupid, but something lies under her desperate eagerness...the knowledge that she will try to make you stay forever, and you can see it in a glimpse in her eye, a sharp look, that changes her childish features from innocent to horrific.
She stands before me now, and this is the second time I’ve been in this room. (The first time didn’t occur in this dream, yet I have a memory of it) The first time I bolted out the partially opened door as soon as my body hit the floor. But there is a problem this time. I’ve just been to the comedian’s opening show and I’m a little drunk. I’m more than a little drunk, I can barely see straight. And there on the floor in front of me is the previous victom, all shriveled, turned purple, a barely living corpe, unable to talk, only to open it’s mouth in a silent plea, it’s shriveled hands grasping at nothing. I know now that she must be really desperate, this girl, for her play thing is almost dead. I know she will do everything to make me stay.
She reaches into the white closet, and I know I don’t have long. She is programmed for formalities though, for trickery, naive trickery, and she truly wants to make me comfortable, though I know what end is in mind, even if she in all her insanity doesnt grasp what she does. She sees I am drunk, and offers me a drink. A rum, she wants to know if i want rum on ice. I tell her yes, and she reaches into the closet, then in a moment her desperate need for me to stay fills her and she instead changes her mind and says she has to show me something now. I know the painting is coming and I clear my mind long enough to insist upon a drink, I tell her no, I want to see her picture but I must must have a drink first. She tries weakly to argue but she really believes she must trick me to stay, so again, she reaches into the closet, this time she says to get me the drink,and as her back is turned to me I find my way onto my feet, swaying, I look towards the partially open door, I see the green pasture in front of me, and I try to take a step...
And she is in front of me, and she is evil, and she is holding the painting. I cover my eyes with my hands but I have viewed a piece of it. Through blurred perception I saw clearly the bottom half of the painting...and I know what it is, it’s red flowers, in an organized pattern, tiny bright red flowers dance before my eyes and i rush past her, I refuse, I exit through the door into the sunlight and she screams and chases me. She becomes larger than life and I am tiny, a worm in the dirt, and i can’t move fast enough now but I am outside, and her power is useless, I instead climb on her and cover her with my slime, to punish her for what she has put me though, in hatred. She holds me, a tiny worm, and cries....and I know I’ll be okay now, reality will return, though I know I’ll never be the same since I’ve glimpsed, if only for a second, that painting.
more dreams
Dreams
Current mood: restless
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
Marion and I entered the wooden house, where the only light was from the moon and was broken into ghastly shapes by shadows.
We were exhausted, had been traveling forever it seemed, and needed a place to rest. Not a moment after we entered Marion was collapsed on the couch, sound asleep. I took a moment and adjusted to our surroundings. Whispers reached my ears and out of the corners of my eyes I saw things moving that shouldn’t have been. I struck me that the house was haunted.
I walked through the living room into an adjacent corner in a dining hall. I felt, for some reason, that although through the rest of the house spirits were actively making themselves known, this corner, this ledge, was safe.
I laid my head down on the ledge and moved my body into a position of rest. Through exhausted eyes I noticed two small statues were sharing the ledge with me. They seemed miles away but I could make out the shapes in the shadowy moonlight of a man in his 20’s, dressed in a white shirt and a black vest, tuxedo pants, with his arm outstretched, his fingers pointed towards me. A girl obviously of Spanish origin stood behind him, a small figurine, carved with a red, slinky, to the floor gown of simple silk. She had a worried expression on her face...and as I drifted off to sleep, I heard a voice speak to me as if in a dream.."beware of the prince, he comes when you least expect him...*
I came bolting out of sleep wide awake as if someone had poured cold water over my head. I knew I had to wake up at that exact moment or something aweful would happen, I looked up and almost touching my knees on the ledge, inching towards me slowy were the two figurines, the male one leading, fingers pointed towards me...I tried to move myself off the ledge quickly but it was too late; reality swirled and I entered another world..that of the prince and his spanish queen.
Now I find myself in a different reality. I’m at some kind of party, it seems to be a party that is occuring before a wedding, instead of after, for some reason. I’m in a small dancing hall, in a house of not of gigantic portions, but a large house, wooden, and there are people surrounding me. I see, across the hall, through the couples arm and arm, a man, the prince, who it seems, isn’t a prince at all but the would-to-be groom, and he’s getting drunk, and laughing, and seems to want to cause some chaos. It hits me that he’s not in love with his would-be-wife, and that he’s getting out of control drunk with some secret wish to ruin the wedding before it will occur. All of this occurs to me in a moment no longer than a few seconds, then his eyes come to rest on me, and at the same time I realize I’m dressed all wrong for this party, in a slinky red silk dress, and my hair, it’s dark, spanish dark....
He grabs me in his arms and spins me through the waltzing crowd, not paying any attention to the rules of the dance, spinning me, twirling me, and I find myself, like in all dreams, like in all seperate distant realities, not entirely in control or understanding of my actions, because of course I am me, but I’m not...and I’m laughing, laughing in his arms, I know it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, there is his fiance, in her white dress, watching me, her wine almost spilling out of her tilted cup, her hand seems to have forgotten it as she views the scene before her, a harlet in a red dress spinning her future farther and farther away from her.
Now I’m in his bedroom, and he wants to show me something, urgently, fumbling he opens the closet door and reaches into a box, he’s pulling out something, what is it...but I know already because I know how this story will end. He’s pulling out fireworks, and a candle, for lighting. And I know he’s naive to the end of it all because he thinks he’s living this out for the first time. But I know, through some divine intelligence that this poor statue lives out this story every night, again and again, same ending, which results in his death. I know if he takes out the fireworks, and the candle, he will light it near an aluminum can of gasoline, and blow himself up in the process. Yet here he is, urgently showing me what he intends to do, and he doesnt even know that his endless, repeatable death is in store. I reach up, distracting him with my words and grab the candle from his hand, trying to change something in fate, in the future of this prince, something to save his life, change the story. He doesnt notice my actions but as sure as I am alive, it changes everything.
We go ouside and the story proceeds. I sit on a chair on the porch and I know that this Spanish girl has already fallen in love with this prince. He is drunk, though sobering up a little and he is eager for me to watch the display he has planned. Completely ignoring now the rules of engagement, which would place him inside with his soon-to-be wife, his attention is only on creating more chaos.
He reaches down and from some source pulls out a light. I still feel reasurred because i hold the death candle in my palm. He lights the firework near the aluminum can. It goes off, I hold my breath, nothing happens...the second one soon follows, its a five firework show, one should race quickly after the next into the sky for its turn in the display...
He has backed away from them to watch, but there is a problem, what’s this?
The third one wont go off, it’s stuck, I see him as if in slow motion moving toward the can, the flame, and I jump up to run to him, desperate to save his life....I see my own destruction before me...
And this would be the end of the dream if I ever died in my dreams. However, I have never died in any of my dreams, and I tend to find a way to end them on a happier note.
The end of this dream is truly anti-climatic...
somehow neither one of us die in the explosion, yet the chaos is enough to cause major confusion, during which we escape in an old pickup, hand in hand, and drive off to our new life together. there is a part later on where we drive down a hispanic street and we see a sign over a club that says "gringo night, saturday." the prince isnt used to our world and askes me to explain what gringo means, and i tell him "white people"...this part makes me laugh a lot.
Current mood: restless
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural
Marion and I entered the wooden house, where the only light was from the moon and was broken into ghastly shapes by shadows.
We were exhausted, had been traveling forever it seemed, and needed a place to rest. Not a moment after we entered Marion was collapsed on the couch, sound asleep. I took a moment and adjusted to our surroundings. Whispers reached my ears and out of the corners of my eyes I saw things moving that shouldn’t have been. I struck me that the house was haunted.
I walked through the living room into an adjacent corner in a dining hall. I felt, for some reason, that although through the rest of the house spirits were actively making themselves known, this corner, this ledge, was safe.
I laid my head down on the ledge and moved my body into a position of rest. Through exhausted eyes I noticed two small statues were sharing the ledge with me. They seemed miles away but I could make out the shapes in the shadowy moonlight of a man in his 20’s, dressed in a white shirt and a black vest, tuxedo pants, with his arm outstretched, his fingers pointed towards me. A girl obviously of Spanish origin stood behind him, a small figurine, carved with a red, slinky, to the floor gown of simple silk. She had a worried expression on her face...and as I drifted off to sleep, I heard a voice speak to me as if in a dream.."beware of the prince, he comes when you least expect him...*
I came bolting out of sleep wide awake as if someone had poured cold water over my head. I knew I had to wake up at that exact moment or something aweful would happen, I looked up and almost touching my knees on the ledge, inching towards me slowy were the two figurines, the male one leading, fingers pointed towards me...I tried to move myself off the ledge quickly but it was too late; reality swirled and I entered another world..that of the prince and his spanish queen.
Now I find myself in a different reality. I’m at some kind of party, it seems to be a party that is occuring before a wedding, instead of after, for some reason. I’m in a small dancing hall, in a house of not of gigantic portions, but a large house, wooden, and there are people surrounding me. I see, across the hall, through the couples arm and arm, a man, the prince, who it seems, isn’t a prince at all but the would-to-be groom, and he’s getting drunk, and laughing, and seems to want to cause some chaos. It hits me that he’s not in love with his would-be-wife, and that he’s getting out of control drunk with some secret wish to ruin the wedding before it will occur. All of this occurs to me in a moment no longer than a few seconds, then his eyes come to rest on me, and at the same time I realize I’m dressed all wrong for this party, in a slinky red silk dress, and my hair, it’s dark, spanish dark....
He grabs me in his arms and spins me through the waltzing crowd, not paying any attention to the rules of the dance, spinning me, twirling me, and I find myself, like in all dreams, like in all seperate distant realities, not entirely in control or understanding of my actions, because of course I am me, but I’m not...and I’m laughing, laughing in his arms, I know it’s wrong, it’s all wrong, there is his fiance, in her white dress, watching me, her wine almost spilling out of her tilted cup, her hand seems to have forgotten it as she views the scene before her, a harlet in a red dress spinning her future farther and farther away from her.
Now I’m in his bedroom, and he wants to show me something, urgently, fumbling he opens the closet door and reaches into a box, he’s pulling out something, what is it...but I know already because I know how this story will end. He’s pulling out fireworks, and a candle, for lighting. And I know he’s naive to the end of it all because he thinks he’s living this out for the first time. But I know, through some divine intelligence that this poor statue lives out this story every night, again and again, same ending, which results in his death. I know if he takes out the fireworks, and the candle, he will light it near an aluminum can of gasoline, and blow himself up in the process. Yet here he is, urgently showing me what he intends to do, and he doesnt even know that his endless, repeatable death is in store. I reach up, distracting him with my words and grab the candle from his hand, trying to change something in fate, in the future of this prince, something to save his life, change the story. He doesnt notice my actions but as sure as I am alive, it changes everything.
We go ouside and the story proceeds. I sit on a chair on the porch and I know that this Spanish girl has already fallen in love with this prince. He is drunk, though sobering up a little and he is eager for me to watch the display he has planned. Completely ignoring now the rules of engagement, which would place him inside with his soon-to-be wife, his attention is only on creating more chaos.
He reaches down and from some source pulls out a light. I still feel reasurred because i hold the death candle in my palm. He lights the firework near the aluminum can. It goes off, I hold my breath, nothing happens...the second one soon follows, its a five firework show, one should race quickly after the next into the sky for its turn in the display...
He has backed away from them to watch, but there is a problem, what’s this?
The third one wont go off, it’s stuck, I see him as if in slow motion moving toward the can, the flame, and I jump up to run to him, desperate to save his life....I see my own destruction before me...
And this would be the end of the dream if I ever died in my dreams. However, I have never died in any of my dreams, and I tend to find a way to end them on a happier note.
The end of this dream is truly anti-climatic...
somehow neither one of us die in the explosion, yet the chaos is enough to cause major confusion, during which we escape in an old pickup, hand in hand, and drive off to our new life together. there is a part later on where we drive down a hispanic street and we see a sign over a club that says "gringo night, saturday." the prince isnt used to our world and askes me to explain what gringo means, and i tell him "white people"...this part makes me laugh a lot.
you get the idea.
Wow
For the first time in a long time, I can actually say I'm pretty darn close to being stress free.
guess what i'm going to do today?
drink a dos equis with lime and chill on a swing by the bayou, while i indulge myself in The Awakening; daydream of a more beautiful time when women were ladies and New Orleans wasn't a place in which you feared for your life, when Grand Isle was a place for the bourgeois to summer.
ah, how i miss my past lives. you were there too, i know it. we had champagne in the mornings with our knitting and idle talk.
For the first time in a long time, I can actually say I'm pretty darn close to being stress free.
guess what i'm going to do today?
drink a dos equis with lime and chill on a swing by the bayou, while i indulge myself in The Awakening; daydream of a more beautiful time when women were ladies and New Orleans wasn't a place in which you feared for your life, when Grand Isle was a place for the bourgeois to summer.
ah, how i miss my past lives. you were there too, i know it. we had champagne in the mornings with our knitting and idle talk.
late summer daydreams
late summer daydream
i watched the rain fall softly,
not a real storm,
more like a wedge driven
beneath the sun
to break the sweet summer heat.
lightning flashed,
thunder softly whispered in the sky,
as if afraid to startle the clouds,
into a real evening shower.
i raised my eyes through the warm sticky air,
and peeked through soft, wet lashes,
droplets fell from eyebrows,
bare feet pushed the swing.
I thought of you in the rhythm
and the sway of your lips.
My eyes closed gently
flashes of electric memory
played home movies,
behind eyelids in the afternoon.
i watched the rain fall softly,
not a real storm,
more like a wedge driven
beneath the sun
to break the sweet summer heat.
lightning flashed,
thunder softly whispered in the sky,
as if afraid to startle the clouds,
into a real evening shower.
i raised my eyes through the warm sticky air,
and peeked through soft, wet lashes,
droplets fell from eyebrows,
bare feet pushed the swing.
I thought of you in the rhythm
and the sway of your lips.
My eyes closed gently
flashes of electric memory
played home movies,
behind eyelids in the afternoon.
some stuff i almost lost 3
i held him.
I lied there, and felt my arm
wrapped around his body,
his breath, in..out....in..out..
his life's rhythm.
I held him gently,
though he's enough to substain
the weight of my love
draped across his warm breast.
I closed my eyes,
and indulged in my love,
tender, needy like a child,
i held him.
I lied there, and felt my arm
wrapped around his body,
his breath, in..out....in..out..
his life's rhythm.
I held him gently,
though he's enough to substain
the weight of my love
draped across his warm breast.
I closed my eyes,
and indulged in my love,
tender, needy like a child,
i held him.
some stuff i almost lost 2
poetic justice
i thought this was amazing...everyone did such a great job.
if you want to post yours underneath please feel free. i wish all bulletins were like this!
Legend has it that Ernest Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only SIX WORDS.
The result was "For sale: baby shoes, never used."
(http://smithmag.net/sixwords/)
Here's an interesting and challenging activity. Try to compose YOUR story (the story of YOU) in EXACTLY six words (no more, no less). For some, this may be painful. (It's very hard to tell your whole story in six words.)
Just to see what we come up with, maybe we could do one of those add-on things and Copy this bulletin and paste it into a new one with yours. Then post the bulletin as "".
Carin: Lives planned perfectly will imperfectly unfold.
Kayla: Fate lay in dreams yet realized.
Dre: Life's easy with your eyes shut.
Keigh: Appreciate mistakes for what they are!
EJ: Many pages turned, very little read.
Colby: A moment of clarity never rendered.
Moot: They've swollen, the size of softballs!
Herb: What sucks now will always suck.
Larry: I came, I saw, I drank.
King Iggy: Born to raise hell, then died.
Nicole: Life is full of little dissapointments.
Mike J: I wonder what else I forgot.
Mandy: The future starts today, not tomorrow.
Arie: Water is actually, with persuasion, flammable.
Kris: Live, love, dream, and be happy.
Jessica: All this work for one screw.
james: SALE: parachute, used once - small stain
Bagheera: I'm still learning how to breathe.
Brandice: Even teachers must never stop learning
Brandy: My mind is a blank scrapbook
Katy: Living is much more than breathing.
Chuck: Find my way proves very difficut.
Caity: Dreams come true in baffling ways.
Sarah: Crazy cat lady seeks true love.
MANDYLAND: (PLAGIARIZING) THE ROAD IS LONG AND WINDING.
Eric: Playing the cards I was dealt.
Chelsea: Had directions, so I'm going elsewhere
Dano:He entertained none more than himself.
Phillip: Donny, you're out of your element.
Cho: Hey, where the white women at?!
::Jacki-OH:: Move bitch, get out the way.
Camille: Low flying social butterfiles die young
Brandon: Lost in space, room mate wanted.
Collette: Repeating same actions, expecting different results.
Steve: Steve is funny, funny don't pay.
Kanani: Expected to return as a Manatee.
Mr. Brightside: Orphan blossoms to bestseller, seeks enlightenment.
Celia: Twirling wide open, fear and all.
El Ghost Host: Never stopped laughing, even through tears
tamar- full plate. empty chair.spilled milk.
Mr.Paz®: Singing Lounge versions of elevator music.
~Kari~: Love, nothing but a fairy tale........
{Cori} How about Chocolate and wine, sis?????
CherylJ. ~ Appreciate the miracles. Forget the rest.
Taryn Darkness fell, now there's only light
Amanda~ It's all written in The Book
Jessica: Aww hell no!.. this is it?
Amanda K. ~ I lived it according to ME!
Selina ~ I love my life right now!
Stephanie ~ It hurts, keeping it all inside
Que- Life's a bitch, then you die!
Rhonda - For sale; used heart, slightly dead.
Elizabeth: Life is learned through agaphy love.
Lauren: Ernest Hemingway did a better job.
Asian Cajun: My lucky break has been broken.
Joey: I've been everywhere, but haven't left
Jenny: Live love breathe sweat hurt hope.
i thought this was amazing...everyone did such a great job.
if you want to post yours underneath please feel free. i wish all bulletins were like this!
Legend has it that Ernest Hemingway was once challenged to write a story in only SIX WORDS.
The result was "For sale: baby shoes, never used."
(http://smithmag.net/sixwords/)
Here's an interesting and challenging activity. Try to compose YOUR story (the story of YOU) in EXACTLY six words (no more, no less). For some, this may be painful. (It's very hard to tell your whole story in six words.)
Just to see what we come up with, maybe we could do one of those add-on things and Copy this bulletin and paste it into a new one with yours. Then post the bulletin as "".
Carin: Lives planned perfectly will imperfectly unfold.
Kayla: Fate lay in dreams yet realized.
Dre: Life's easy with your eyes shut.
Keigh: Appreciate mistakes for what they are!
EJ: Many pages turned, very little read.
Colby: A moment of clarity never rendered.
Moot: They've swollen, the size of softballs!
Herb: What sucks now will always suck.
Larry: I came, I saw, I drank.
King Iggy: Born to raise hell, then died.
Nicole: Life is full of little dissapointments.
Mike J: I wonder what else I forgot.
Mandy: The future starts today, not tomorrow.
Arie: Water is actually, with persuasion, flammable.
Kris: Live, love, dream, and be happy.
Jessica: All this work for one screw.
james: SALE: parachute, used once - small stain
Bagheera: I'm still learning how to breathe.
Brandice: Even teachers must never stop learning
Brandy: My mind is a blank scrapbook
Katy: Living is much more than breathing.
Chuck: Find my way proves very difficut.
Caity: Dreams come true in baffling ways.
Sarah: Crazy cat lady seeks true love.
MANDYLAND: (PLAGIARIZING) THE ROAD IS LONG AND WINDING.
Eric: Playing the cards I was dealt.
Chelsea: Had directions, so I'm going elsewhere
Dano:He entertained none more than himself.
Phillip: Donny, you're out of your element.
Cho: Hey, where the white women at?!
::Jacki-OH:: Move bitch, get out the way.
Camille: Low flying social butterfiles die young
Brandon: Lost in space, room mate wanted.
Collette: Repeating same actions, expecting different results.
Steve: Steve is funny, funny don't pay.
Kanani: Expected to return as a Manatee.
Mr. Brightside: Orphan blossoms to bestseller, seeks enlightenment.
Celia: Twirling wide open, fear and all.
El Ghost Host: Never stopped laughing, even through tears
tamar- full plate. empty chair.spilled milk.
Mr.Paz®: Singing Lounge versions of elevator music.
~Kari~: Love, nothing but a fairy tale........
{Cori} How about Chocolate and wine, sis?????
CherylJ. ~ Appreciate the miracles. Forget the rest.
Taryn Darkness fell, now there's only light
Amanda~ It's all written in The Book
Jessica: Aww hell no!.. this is it?
Amanda K. ~ I lived it according to ME!
Selina ~ I love my life right now!
Stephanie ~ It hurts, keeping it all inside
Que- Life's a bitch, then you die!
Rhonda - For sale; used heart, slightly dead.
Elizabeth: Life is learned through agaphy love.
Lauren: Ernest Hemingway did a better job.
Asian Cajun: My lucky break has been broken.
Joey: I've been everywhere, but haven't left
Jenny: Live love breathe sweat hurt hope.
some stuff i almost lost!!!zomg. 1
a glimpse of understanding, a dream for men.
Current mood: calm
I had a dream last night that I had a girlfriend. I'm not sure what sex I was, but I believe I was a man because, how can I say, I didn't have the emotional paranoia and extreme moodiness of a girl. I was relaxed. My dream took place in a comfortable bar like setting. My girlfriend was sitting in a booth next to me and I was very content and relaxed with just feeling the love and affection she gave me. Then she got up to use the restroom, and while she was there I got up and went somewhere for a half and hour..I don't really remember where but it was something like to take a shower or something else routine and normal. When I came back to the booth she was gone and I realized that she had gotten upset waiting for me and had thought I had left her so she left. In my head it was a gentle understanding that she would overreact about it and that was it, it passed.
The scene switched to the street..I had done a few things that night and I was walking down the street with my friends. Again, I was extremely relaxed and not anxious about anything. I saw my girlfriend heading toward me and she didn't see me. I playingly touched her elbow to get her attention. She turned around and when she recognized that it was me she freaked out, and started screaming about the situation in the booth. She was being loud and causing a scene and I couldn't explain to her that it was a misunderstanding..actually I didn't want to at the moment because I could see the discomfort it was causing my guy friends, and she was hysterical and completely at a loss of control. I felt a little cold anger and disgust at her behavior and I told her we would talk about it later and I started to walk in the opposite direction with my friends. She screamed fine and then almost as an afterthought told me she threw away her phone so I couldnt call her. Another twinge of anger at how irrational she was, and a realization that I didn't want to be with someone like that.
I honestly don't know how men feel inside, emotionally, but I recognized the girl's behavior of course. It was wonderful to be a man in this dream, and feel so relaxed and just that cold rationality instead of the normal flow of anxiety, paranoia and overload of emotions that run through me on a day to day basis. I've asked my husband how he feels inside like on a normal day and he told me basically relaxed; I imagine it must feel something like I felt in this dream.
I also realized how crazy a woman can seem to a man. So ladies, take it easy on your men, I really don't think they feel the same things we do, it can be hard to understand...
Current mood: calm
I had a dream last night that I had a girlfriend. I'm not sure what sex I was, but I believe I was a man because, how can I say, I didn't have the emotional paranoia and extreme moodiness of a girl. I was relaxed. My dream took place in a comfortable bar like setting. My girlfriend was sitting in a booth next to me and I was very content and relaxed with just feeling the love and affection she gave me. Then she got up to use the restroom, and while she was there I got up and went somewhere for a half and hour..I don't really remember where but it was something like to take a shower or something else routine and normal. When I came back to the booth she was gone and I realized that she had gotten upset waiting for me and had thought I had left her so she left. In my head it was a gentle understanding that she would overreact about it and that was it, it passed.
The scene switched to the street..I had done a few things that night and I was walking down the street with my friends. Again, I was extremely relaxed and not anxious about anything. I saw my girlfriend heading toward me and she didn't see me. I playingly touched her elbow to get her attention. She turned around and when she recognized that it was me she freaked out, and started screaming about the situation in the booth. She was being loud and causing a scene and I couldn't explain to her that it was a misunderstanding..actually I didn't want to at the moment because I could see the discomfort it was causing my guy friends, and she was hysterical and completely at a loss of control. I felt a little cold anger and disgust at her behavior and I told her we would talk about it later and I started to walk in the opposite direction with my friends. She screamed fine and then almost as an afterthought told me she threw away her phone so I couldnt call her. Another twinge of anger at how irrational she was, and a realization that I didn't want to be with someone like that.
I honestly don't know how men feel inside, emotionally, but I recognized the girl's behavior of course. It was wonderful to be a man in this dream, and feel so relaxed and just that cold rationality instead of the normal flow of anxiety, paranoia and overload of emotions that run through me on a day to day basis. I've asked my husband how he feels inside like on a normal day and he told me basically relaxed; I imagine it must feel something like I felt in this dream.
I also realized how crazy a woman can seem to a man. So ladies, take it easy on your men, I really don't think they feel the same things we do, it can be hard to understand...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
