Phase 9 : Wonder

I looked into his blue green eyes-fascination. Those tunnels ran deep. So deep I couldn't even see about a quarter of a way there. I'm trying not to think about those eyes, the eyes that said everything and nothing at the same time.

The blankness that drew me in after 40 months of cutting off any testosterone. I knew how I got, I wouldn't be able to focus if I let a man touch me. All of these suppressed feelings, fire, passion, lust suppressing boiling brewing.

At this point, as my life sacrificing project was trying to come back to fruition , and I was slowly getting my confidence back, those eyes the steady flow of comfort , laying next to me innocently drew me in until I looked down as I usually did.

Even with slight progress I was hurting. Ive been hurting silently, reaching yearning for something to fill this confusion. I knew I was severely lonely but as long as I kept busy it would be ok, right?

It seemed so simple, calm easy it felt right. The problem is I thought I could be simple. I've become quite easy going, go with the flow. People are drawn to that. But I can't control my body chemistry, and after finding about the truth of who I am what I am why I am here, a secret consuming my soul once again my impulses raged the world with a giant

Fuck. This. Shit.


Nothing about me is simple.

That aside, those hands. They were ginormous. They were worn, rough, warm- they were beautiful. When they at times reached around my throat, I lost my mind. In quick moments my mind would blank as the pressure of being squeezed forcefully made everything peaceful. Almost everything was awkward, we were bone tired, Im in a life changing terrible phase, but I found  utmost peace in not saying things at times.

I find beauty in oddities, I am not attracted to the jock, money, things like that.

I tried to lower my energy to meet his pace.

Watching him cook was absolutely beautiful to me. It was so structured. So exact. Everything was where it always is. He already knew what he was doing, no need to look anything up. No messes, unexpectencies. Cut, plop , fill boil,

Boom Boom Boom Boom

Done.


My mind was fucking blown.


Here is how I cook ,


Where the fuck did I put that onion? I'm gonna make this pasta by hand, fuck these gmos, do it right do it yourself. I really need to hurry up, as I am sloshing , burning pans because I am cooking 6 things.

Then I have to get the color just right, and add a little bit of this ridiculous ingredient I really don't need because it looks pretty. And it all must be fresh, no bullshit, as my mess from making all this by hand grows and grows and grows and by god I forgot the almond milk, I can't do the dishes now I am running late. DAMN IT I BURNED THE PAN AGAIN. NO I CUT MY FINGER!

I have no idea how it's going to taste because I tried something different, sometimes it's a hit or miss. But usually good.

His body was absolutely beautiful. His arms were carved from hours of labor , and those hands knew where to go when my muscles were screaming.

I don't tell people I am in intense pain all day. I have fibromyalgia, from always on the go : creating, calling, running around getting materials, cooking, exercising, dancing, moving stuff, cleaning, stressing worrying my shoulders and back especially are terrible.


My body on the other hand: My breasts have completely swollen , I am out of shape always  on the go but when I am stressed I will binge sweets. When my mind is free i'll lift weights, ride my bike, swim, run , dance. But I have been so worried I just can't focus. I can't find my razor half the time, my pigmentation is off from being so stressed . I got a tummy my hard earned muscles are gone. Its just bad.



That aside;

Something in him seems tortured, his focus is insane. I never knew what he was thinking at all, he felt uncomfortable around people and I am pretty sure I stressed him out.


The thing about me is that I am really quite predictable. I seem complicated. I am bohemian minded but emotionally:  I am white picket fence style.


I want loyalty , security, acceptance , stability, understanding, communication

I am erotic, free, creative, stubborn, not traditional at all.

But I want the same thing Betty Crocker does. I may not wear an apron, have a 9-5 job, have everything clean, and wear jeans and a nice shirt  but all that stuff is tangible. It's not real, It's meme thinking.

If I don't feel free I will rebel. If anything after being trapped all these years on pills etc, I will fight.

My stressed out self, chakras imbalanced is torturing me. After my awakening started 2 years ago knowing who I am I knew it was a risk spending time with someone with different energy.

And I couldn't even feel anything, smell anything taste anything, and it wasn't him. I was hurting from stretched but I was completely blocked by my friend.

And it built up even more and more. My back felt like my blades were gong to burst out from being in heat. Energy surged outside my body. I was warm on fire, my blood was boiling. I held so much in, lowering my energy wasn't working as it raised and raised and raised and my mind was gone obsessing. I knew that my kundalini was on rapid fire and went rogue. I wanted to control it. No one has ever been able to calm me down.

Because they never even tried. They got scared, ran. I knew, that if I was just touched in that moment it would be OK. Everything would go back to normal.

I knew If I said any of this I would be misunderstood, but I thought be honest explaining the process would work. To explain how it feels why its happening, that I really need this because I am loyal but it didn't matter.


I layed there on my cement floor back breaking more day by day, covered in poison ivy, feverish, completely horny , being ignored, extremely exhausted from traveling collecting materials and working, stressed out. My muscles were aching, I knew I was about to be "dumped", I needed energy. I needed to be touched to be loved. I felt like a monster, I felt misunderstood, I felt unworthy, disgusting. My project was behind I couldn't work, I laid there paralyzed balling, my insides crying, my fear of losing everything I worked hard for then I fell asleep. I needed someone at this time to just hold the defiant. I felt kicked when I was down, my dad was in the hospital it was bad bad bad.


I did this to  myself

Apparently I need to date someone else with high energy. Someone who has control of theres unlike me.


I am complicated, but in a beautiful way.

So I walked with feathers in my hair. I stood there as I saw the big white wolf, not the driver but the passenger and the transmitter.

A single vile glass vase I was mentally holding inside my mind with a single struggling rose- my heart. Something I have been trying to protect for so long slipped and shattered on the ground in thick pieces. The pieces I could pick up, because the wounds weren't that deep. I could glue it back together, but I would not let him touch that vase again.

And maybe I was wrong, could of been someone else but I knew at that moment in anger that whatever happened I would not look back.

Because I really was hurt and insecure after all

And we said how things were I was proud of how I handled it, I really do not want drama at all. No more stress. He doesn't get it, it's ok- keep moving. We can be friends.

But what happened on Jefferson, was too much for me . Metaphoric or realistic.

Don't know what those eyes said, I wonder at times.

I don't regret anything , which is huge for me. My heart is open, I need to focus but when the right person comes by and he's ready for something unusual, unique, complicated but beautiful:

I'll ready to defiantly kick him in the face as he puts me in place with a beautiful dominance as I finally submit flying side by side energies raging soaring, exploring , remembering

and calming.

Molding into one because I refuse to sell out.

I just don't understand human relationships, but am willing to learn. I know few will understand this space goddess, haha!

But I know for a couple weeks there I was so happy, running again , looking hot. Got my confidence back until I felt like someone stole my new puppy! I know that my  heart being filled is what I need and I am thankful I learned that the rough way. A happy heart is a creative heart.


Painful but I am glad I took the risk.

I lay thinking of those hands sometimes, but I wonder , whose hands will fit symmetrically with mine?

I learned:

Eagle chicken is delicious ( Even though I am now a vegetarian)
I should not get physical when I am bone tired
62 degrees is too cold for me
when your chakras are blocked you will suck in bed
Bad vibes when delivering cookies are real
I still can't play the "game"
I just lost the game in more ways then one. Shit
There is an astrological alignment of stars that looks like someone is peeing
Never let a man get too many mosquito bites
Gorgeous beautiful vintage couches are manipulation devices and I am not having that shit
Always carry a toothbrush
I like riding on a bmx
Don't wear sandals on one
Don't lower your energy so much
I am also called Yolanda
Don't leave your notebook
My sex drive is still insane
Don't believe someone can handle the beast just because they say they can
Always be free, bitch

Phase 7- Whistle

I was at the local library months ago scrounging through the manga section, because I am "oh-so-cool." Some quite interesting things happened. I saw an affair take place for the first time, realized I am behind on Japanese based illustrated crack, recognized I am usually the last person to leave a place before they close which is pretty lame, but the most striking observation was an elder man singing blankly out in the open with a beautiful flutter whistle. It was a vintage sound completely. That classic pure wholeness of singing in a slice of pie format.I can't remember the exact words at this stage of my life.He was completely care free, his voice loud echoing through the book stands when I just stood there staring in awe at the bravery and beautiful randomness occurring in front of my eyes.The man turned to me and said;

 "Oh, I am not crazy. When you get to this age, and you are singing, it means you are happy." He then strolled away in pride continuing where he left off before exiting the building.

  Not that it matters, but I never assumed he was crazy. I believe I tried to say that. I actually find this moment an omen of sorts.

  When I was younger I enjoyed singing. I had a voice, and when I was alone I would belt out the current pop sensations that most girls my age enjoyed. Good ol' 90's. (98 degrees was my shit.) I can't remember before this moment I am about to explain if I sang openly but I know from this day forward I became extremely conscious of my own voice to the point where I didn't even like to hear myself sing. 

I was young. Maybe 7 or 8. I went to my mom and I began to sing. I wanted her opinion. I was very proud of what I was executing when my mom simply stated, " Your voice is shaking." That's all it was. As simple as that.

  That moment I felt like all of my air was sucked out of me with a straw. A simple honest statement destroyed me. My inner perfectionist shown through when the truth of my voice was not as I heard it. My self esteem smacked the floor, as shame rose to my cheeks in burning waves of red. I looked down for a moment and I don't remember exactly what I did after that besides that I was never able to freely sing in front of people again.

  It's silly to think how hard we strive for acceptance, and it's easy to comprehend how important our parents opinions are to most of us especially at such a young age. That fear I developed caused a whole bunch of issues and embarrassing circumstances in the future.

 Those aside, there are so many times I just want to open my lungs and belt. Just sing my heart out even if it completely sounded retched. Because it is a source of freedom. A freedom of judgement, restraint, discipline, insecurity, perfectionism,
  I get these ideas for songs. Melodies, rhythms, hell if I know. They bobble in my brain, some for years. They are kind of catchy in my opinion. If I just took the time to write out the lyrics I'd feel somewhat more free. But who has time for that with the million others things weighing them down?

 Back to the original point, I've been trying to take more time to resolve my anxiety. More "me" time so I can live more free, finish my tasks more accurately, and to show my true colors of confidence self acceptance, punctuality and straight up badass-ness. Just like how I first got my studio.

 Side Note:Now the singing part makes sense after all these years, but the fact that I haven't been able to dance without crumbling down in my own house shows that something has not been right. Dancing since I was 4 years old, it's new that I can't do it freely. It's a sign that I am not OK. This realization can be a tool, or wake up call that you may be mentally unstable or over stressed. If little details are more important then the things that have always made you happy, you are denying yourself of what life has to offer. Joy.

  

This time taken, whether it's relaxing baths, meditation, resting (what does that mean?), finishing old tasks, self pleasuring, acceptance, has allowed me to have moments of freedom. I am completely fucking miserable if I cannot feel free from all of this. I resemble a butterfly in someways , I like to fly and float, soar into unknown places, unknown situations. Restriction is not for me. So when I get those rare moments,when I feel relaxed, I have been singing. In my car, in the shower, sometimes outside and even in front of some people. That, is a huge breakthrough for me. That is growth in a big way.

I lost my way since last May, but I know for certain there are ways I have grown. Being a New Year my resolution is the same as last. To finish what I started. So when a woman and I downtown talked numerous times about creating a band I knew would never exist I told her I would send some songs. Naturally these days I kept puttinn it off, it was never truly the right time. 

 Recently though, as Clyde my volvo and I drifted towards the museum I recorded a song hook that has been bogging my mind and sent that mind floater to the woman. Did I text "keep in mind I can't sing"? Yes, yes I did. Did I send the song, sing in front of myself and another, despite the incident as a child, the moment I lost a creative part of my soul? Yes, I did. I fucking did. 

  I didn't get a response. Apparently my anxiety driven self doubt insecure current persona drove away my new "friends" or acquaintances. But you know what, I did it for me. I punched that self doubt demon in the face and recorded that shit.

So in theory, self doubt and axiety-sadness if you will can completely destroy a sense of freedom. In this circumstance- creativity. Creatively, proven as a symbol of freedom. That the soul craves individualism. That pure happiness is shown with acceptance of difference to normal standards.

It's so easy to get caught up in the thoughts of others, here and now in this society. Our fears, circumstances can cut off the will to express ourselves. If you see a person singing in public, you shouldn't be embarrassed or pity them for being "attention whores." In my opinion, you should envy them. 

Because those people accept themselves, and at any age if you are singing in public or in general- it means you are happy.

To the old man who passed on that wisdom, thank you for that moment when I realized I wanted too, to sing as well. I wanted to be happy. I want now to be happy. So Every time I open my vocal chords good or bad I know in the back of my mind I am doing something right and that feels so damn good. So. Damn. Good.