All The World's A Stage...

As a person who embraces Spiritual Metaphysics as a belief system, I always try to find correlations. I look for the details that will bring sense to the senseless, or enlightenment to the confusion. One thing I have recently added to my understanding is that astrology is much more than the position of a planet when your were born. There is a deeper meaning. I think we are all born under the signs that will facilitate the growth we need to have. So maybe it's not so much "I'm a Gemini, I'm just that way" but "I'm a Gemini and those traits are things I need to look at, and bring into harmony in this life," or "those are the traits that will allow me to experience certain dynamics that will cause my most beneficial growth..." This is in alignment with my belief in karma and Dharma and reincarnation. We have a purpose for being here in this life, and it is to work through the growth of our souls. I could not be here without purpose, and wouldn't want to be. Our existence has to have meaning.

Shakespeare said, "All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."

The infamous bard was referring to the seven types of parts we play within each life. But it occurred to me that this analogy can be stretched to encompass so much more. It can be a way to comprehend the greater purpose we all have in EACH life we live.

I view my place in this life as analogous to playing a part; me, on a stage, playing a role. The character I play is my self in this life, in this body, with the traits born in me. I understand that it's just a role, but I have a responsibility to do a good job and to please my audience and to be supportive to the other actors. If I break character, I don't honor my responsibility, and I mess it up for everyone else. The other players always include some antagonist too, but no matter what that antagonist did during the "play," all the actors meet for the wrap party, and they were all friends, and they all talked about what a great experience they just had together. Because in that space, they know that it was a play, and now they were back to their true selves.

Quantum Physics tells us that reality is merely a projection of the human mind, but in this life, I need to pretend those other characters are real, as is the script, the stage, and the place it is being presented, because I am here to accomplish a task. In order to pull it off, I must willingly suspend my own disbelief. I also chose this part, (and the ones before, and the ones to come) and made a commitment to see it through. Opening Night is when I took my first breath at birth, and my Final Curtain is when this shell I know as my body takes its last breath. It won't mean I can't choose another part, it just means this one is finished. I will be moving on to bigger and better roles; becoming a better actor through experience, and perhaps mentoring other young actors along the way. There is method to the madness after all.

All The World's A Stage...

The CircleCircleCircle Fiasco

I was never so bored in the bedroom in my life! She said she hated toys, and hated penetration, and hated this or that....and it had to be done just-so---way too many boundaries....it was basically oral and tribadism for the sex act...she said even fingers were uncomfortable. (OMG, BECKY)...

I told her I'd had my fingers in there a couple of times when she was relaxed, and i KNEW there wasn't a size issue....

To make matters worse, she demanded that i do a certain thing during oral:: "CircleCircleCircle..." at the exact same speed, for a prolonged amount of time, and if my speed varied at all, i had to START OVER. I felt like she wanted a vibrator, not me. It became such a chore. (My friends still get a kick out of this, and when i spot some woman at a bar, and am considering asking her out, one of them will lean over and say, "CircleCircleCircle" and i am over it....lol).

Finally one night i had had enough and i said, "Ya know what? Shut up and lay down, and let me DO what I DO!" I am very confident about my skills in this area, and i was sick of not being able to use them. She cowered and did it. And guess what? Yeah, you know. She had the best one of her life. So it was like i was having to either be her vibrator, or TRAIN her about things i thought she should KNOW.

The CircleCircleCircle Fiasco

To All The Girls I've Loved Before...

I had this nightmare once, where i walked into a social gathering, and every woman i had ever slept with was there. They all turned in unison upon my arrival, with a varied collection of expressions and responses, and at that moment, i felt as if i would swallow my own teeth. It's not as if i had a horrible track record, or made any real enemies of these women, but the concept was overwhelming in that i had urgent questions that needed answering:
1. Was this a joke?
2. If it was a joke, was i expected to laugh?
3. Had these women all been comparing notes?
4. Was i really dead, and this was my life review?
5. How much alcohol was available to me in that room?

Now, while i am reasonably certain that should this event actually take place, i would have the social grace to handle it, i wonder if I would instead spin on my heel and dash back outside?

I woke up fully prepared to make a few calls and offer any required apologies...

Posted by Jae Baeli at 4:49 AM

To All The Girls I've Loved Before...

Meltdowns, Irony & my Achilles Heel

Fear is not the antecedent of abundance.

I had another mini-meltdown last night. . . when I say meltdown, I don't mean anything huge. . .just angst, tears, frustration, some sadness. . .

It was in regard to someone I've been engaging. Some things have come up in my consciousness. I was aware of these things, but realized I was not thinking about them--purposely avoiding them, because to believe in that reality would suck away the good emotions I was having about talking to this woman—the Beautiful Blogist.

She lives in another state, and after numerous lengthy emails about pretty powerful and profound issues, both of us have agreed that we would like to meet in person. But is this something two people usually do so they can begin a friendship? How can you have a real friendship when you don't share the same locale (unless, of course, you had an in-person friendship beforehand)? Is there a thought in her mind that it might lead to more? OR does she just need the type of friend i can be for her?

I usually flirt with women online. That's a bad habit. I enjoy it, because i love women, and it's fun and titillating. But flirting seems somehow not urbane... even disrespectful, where she's concerned...this could simply be two like-minded souls crossing paths--two people who just vibrated on the same frequency and matched up in order to learn something about each other and themselves. Honestly, though, i didn't initially contact her with any romantic intent--i came across her blogs and they resonated with me so much that i jotted a comment or two and then forgot about it.

I had returned from another weekend at Diversity, wherein i suffered the usual angst about no interesting women, or no women at all. This was coupled with heat intolerance which made me ill, and then that triggered a panic attack. I was down, Frustrated, close to despondent. Who was i kidding? I am much too quirky and unusual to match up with anyone. I was a millimeter away from just giving in and holing up at home, and making my peace with a life of loneliness, with only the sound of my own breathing, and the ache of need for connection with someone.

So Sunday, when i got home, I was in my office, and about to head upstairs to go to bed, when i heard my email sound. Only half-curious, i checked and it was her. The Beautiful Blogist. She appreciated my comments on her blogs, and had this idea that maybe she should contact me, talk to someone "more evolved" for a change. My mood lifted.

I sat down and wrote her back. (it felt a little like the beginning of "You've Got Mail" that movie with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, I love that movie. It's so endearing, and it always makes me feel hopeful about finding love in cyberspace)...anyway, since then, she and I have exchanged enough emails to fill a novella. I had no clue how much i would resonate with her. I didn't know i would be so drawn to her, or that my mind would be taking me to all these places with her.... I found a unique kindredness between us, at least as far as words on the screen can impart.

Then, over the next few days, I had those two other experiences that revealed what might be a deeper meaning between us. . .(see blog: Beautiful Blogist). Thus, my efforts to entertain the possibilities with her, of "trying her on" (see blog: Love on the Racks)—has felt good, but I fear it might be the same scenario of my last relationship, and a few others in the past--that was an exercise in futility; a journey from blindness into sight again. But it was a blindness of my own choosing... denial.

It is clear that The Beautiful Blogist is still figuring some things out—things that I've taken care of long ago in the natural growth process. But there are many other things i'm still working on, and i know all the answers won't come in this lifetime. But aren't we all figuring things out? Isn't that what we do, as spiritual beings having a human experience? While she seems unsure of her path, she also seems oddly capable of working that out for herself. Was i just hearing what i wanted to hear?

My brain keeps leaping ahead to "try her on." And i have a love-hate relationship with that emotion. I don't want to go there unless it appears to be organically going there. But i can't resist. She thinks things through, She examines things like I do. But is there a small enough distance between where I am on that growth spectrum and where she is—Practically, cosmically, metaphysically, spiritually and emotionally, she feels so familiar. Like she's in my head. I want her to be that magical someone for me, but i would also cherish a friend like that.

Romantically, I'm not looking for a PERFECT person, just a person PERFECT FOR ME. (and perhaps I should not be looking for that person so much as Allowing what I have created in my mind to be that person--could it be her?). At the same time, i have no way of knowing for sure. Any of it.

I want someone who can be strong when I need that, too. (do I?) Someone who knows herself, accepts herself, wishes to continue the evolution (and how do I know she's not doing that, or being that?) Someone I can make a big deal over because i adore her--but also who can let it be about ME sometimes. Someone who is interested in my work, my creations, as extensions of my identity; who is interested in knowing me on all those levels as well as the more esoteric ones which we have been sharing.

Now, while I believe The Beautiful Blogist wants to evolve, is evolving, is aware of things on a level most are not, and is possibly a genius as far as IQ, I don't think I want to revisit all those things I've already dealt with years ago, as I would merely be backtracking. But it doesn't feel like the old stuff, really....I want the NEW paths, the NEW understanding. . .the NEW experience (but couldn't that be what THIS is?)

I want someone who is positive, and reminds me to be that way, too. (what if she IS positive, and can be aligned with the beliefs I have, but I just caught her during a period of angst, much like the one I am going through? Ironic? Hypocritical? ) I realize that I caught her during a transitional period where she was ending a sort-of relationship and trying to figure it out within the context of her own identity, and maybe she has moved out of that confusion, now, as she says. . . but it makes no difference, This is all paranoid rumination. My need to find my special person.

Throughout our correspondence, it feels like we have known each other longer. The question I struggle with—even at this premature hour—is that I don't know what her role is to be in my life. I have my emotions about it, but am afraid they might be predicated on what I want—I might be doing just what I warned her about: laying a transparency sheet over a person and choosing to believe that the result I see is really there, because I want it so desperately. And desperation is the operative term. Desperation is not only unattractive, it is also a pitfall in the path of life. (Again, I am humbled by the very real possibility that I am guilty of the same weaknesses of which I accuse others).

But desperation colors our decisions and causes us to misstep. It seeps into our consciousness and creates its own reality. This may or may not be the reality that exists. Nor the reality that is more real than our human limitations will allow us to see. And what of the reality I create? A-H said,

You've trained yourself to face reality. You've trained yourself to tell the truth. You've trained yourself to tell it like it is. So in the beginning, these fantasies feel a little inappropriate, because it's like you're fooling yourself. Sometimes people will say, "Well, isn't this just denial?" And we say, we hope so! We hope that you are denying the absence that you do not want. And we hope that you are embracing the presence of what you do. But somehow the idea of denial has become a dirty word to you; like it is virtuous to face the reality of the horror of your own lives. And we would be ignoring anything that did not please us. We would get our eyes on what feels good. (Abraham-Hicks).

....and SHE feels GOOD.....What "feels good" or at least what WAS "feeling good" was the possibility of her being that One that I seek. Friends are great, and i have some great friends...so if i'm brutally honest, i secretly wish her to be more than that.

The flip side of this conundrum is that whatever I may judge her to be, and whatever place in her evolution I may believe she resides, it could all be something else. Or it could all BECOME something else, if it isn't at this point. How many times in my past did I hate it when someone thought I was something i was not? Too many, I fear. There could be tradeoffs (as there always are) that are agreeable to me, because I might feel I am getting enough of something else to balance those incongruities.

One person may offer me obstacles and I know from the other aspects of the relationship and what else I am getting from them, that this is not equitable. Another person may offer me the SAME OBSTACLES, but offer rich additional aspects, that make the obstacles seem inconsequential and negligible.

What I continue to come back to, is that I don't have enough data to be able to make a clear assessment. So perhaps all I need to do is calm down about it and allow the process to be organic.

I cannot know what role she might play in my life, until I meet her, and see what our chemistry could be. . .and I find it difficult to continue this process as it currently is, until I know how to frame it in my mind—am I being a friend? A mentor? A pen pal? A potential mate? Would I behave differently in each of those scenarios? I feel that I would. But Should I? Or should my behavior at this point be only a certain type of behavior, regardless of how it blossoms, or what the flower looks like?

My mind leaps ahead to the logistics: If I do get to meet her in person, (which I'm not sure she could arrange, because she works two jobs) --but if she can arrange the time off, but can't make the trip here, and I end up going to her, I have to deal with the AC in my car being out right now...an 8 and a half hour trip to Texas, without AC. Not something I can do with my heat intolerance...but if I find a way to do it--rent a car or whatever, I can just frame it as a little mini-vacation for myself, meet someone new, have a good time, make a friend, and then have something else in my experience afterward from which to launch new desires, since contrast is the key to that. To wit:

As you diminish contrast, you diminish your ability to decide, and as you diminish your ability to decide, you diminish your ability to focus, and as you diminish your ability to focus, you do away with your reason for existing. (Abraham-Hicks).

It has to do with the way I frame that experience, perhaps. Obviously, I cannot allow myself to go into it with expectations, because I set myself up for disappointment if my meditations/fantasies/wants are not realized. Yet, it is with that higher vibration of expectation, that I create exactly what I wish to have. This dichotomy is troublesome to me, to say the least. How do I reconcile expectations that can cause me great pain or disappointment, with allowing the expectation to create what I wish to have?

I've been learning so much from the modern gurus about living the life I want to have. . .I know that I forget, as most humans do, that reality is something we choose. I still get bogged down in the quagmire of helplessness, the morass of morality, the swamp of insecurity, and I lose my balance. I sink. I drown. I die just a little each time—or perhaps I am resurrected, who's to say?

I suspect that having two mini-meltdowns (or too many meltdowns) in as many weeks is largely stemming from my concentrated work in the areas of my SELFHOOD. I'm stirring everything up, I'm asking the big questions again, I'm examining my beliefs, my thoughts, my fears. . .I have found my major Achilles Heel, which is my overwhelming need to have a partner in my life. But not just any partner. I know too much now to pretend I don't know; I have evolved past that point where I can lie to myself and make concessions about what's okay with me. I know myself too well. And yet, having these higher standards—higher than the norm—I have painted myself into the proverbial corner. If I were to chart it, funnel it down, "do the math":

* There are few people in the orbit I'm in;
* fewer still who are women;
* even fewer who I am likely to cross paths with,
* and even fewer who are gay women
* fewer again, to whom I will be attracted
* and continuing into fewer who are compatible with me on a hundred other levels.


. . .until I have descended into the abyss of elitist romance.

What's a lesbian to do?

The resounding sentiment is "Accept it, and just get more cats."

But is there that much limitation? It makes no sense to me that this must be my fate, and yet my fear tells me it is so. Do I listen to my fear? Intellectually and spiritually, I know that fear is not the antecedent of abundance. Emotionally, I feel that abundance is somehow out of my reach. We are supposed to pay attention to our Emotional Guidance System, yet what if our EGS is retarded on some level?


UPDATE: We have still not had our first phone call due to circumstances beyond her control...but I heard her voice when she left a message on my answering machine, and it made me tingle. Like a silly teenager, I listen to it several times per day, simply because it makes me feel good. Gads. I must have a hole in my head, and my brains are leaking out.

Meltdowns, Irony & my Achilles Heel

I Gore A Phobia

I struggled with whether or not to post this entry. It's very personal. But I also believe that we help each other by sharing our burdens, and I hope that maybe someone might read this and not feel so alone. Below is a journal entry from three years ago about this subject.

"The very difficulty I have in writing this entry. . .or beginning it-- indicates the overwhelming nature of the subject. . .it took me several long minutes of staring at this blank screen before I could even think of a way to start. . .

What's it about then?...it's about epiphanies, evolution, discomfort, comfort Zones, Safe people, Safe Spaces, Knowing that Ignorance really is bliss and conversely, knowledge is hell; it's about knowing myself, and wishing I didn't know.

It's about learning to play to my strengths for once, rather than my weaknesses.

I believe that I am at least mildly agoraphobic. I believe I can conquer that to some degree, in time, but I am only now realizing the pervasive affect it has had on my life. It explains so much of my past behavior. I gave things other names. . .fatigue, health problems, PMS, heartbreak, dysfunctional. . .usually culminating in just saying "I'm fucked up, I guess," or "I'm a sensitive artist type, and need my isolation in order to create.." or "I'm a homebody. . ." But in doing some research, I recognized far too much of myself in the information. Armed with this new information and mindset, I began to revisit some Images of my past. . .images that repeat themselves in varying situations and to varying degrees, but always manifest the same way. . .images of. . .

...avoiding an invitation to a public place because it just made me feel too uneasy;

...starting an argument while out with a friend, because I knew it would mean I could leave;

...avoiding performing solo because it would mean everyone looking at just me, and I would be obligated to be there even if I decided it was too frightening and then I would feel trapped; my fierce avoidance of feeling trapped in ANY situation.

...always wanting to take my own car and not wanting to stay the night at any one else's house;

...getting so antsy waiting in any line... afraid I would push someone out of the way and run outside...

...categorizing my grocery list so that I shopped according to where things were located in the store, so I would not have to backtrack or wander around and could get in and out as efficiently as possible...then, if shopping with someone else, feeling panicky after a certain period of time, suffocated, trapped because I had to wait on them to finish--and all I could think of was wanting to go home;

...Spreading out my errands so that I don't do too many in one day--this incites a feeling of being overwhelmed; never wanting to shop or go along on someone else's errands because there was no guarantee I could leave when I wanted, and constantly hurrying them along and getting mad when I felt they were not properly organized with their shopping list and wasted any time at all getting it done;

I also recall fights with partners where the Safe Space of our home was so compromised, that I had to go outside and sit in my van-- sometimes for hours--before I could calm down.

...being unnaturally afraid of certain sounds. . .like knocks on the door or the phone ringing. . .it seemed to represent a personal invasion, an ambush of sorts. . .my heart pounding, my breathing ragged. . .

...choosing to live in my van, when I became homeless, rather than with a drunken Uncle, or at my newly-married mother's house, because I was fearful I couldn't control that environment, could not create my own space, and would be dealing with obligation and someone else's rules. The idea of that made me feel like I was suffocating.

Being in a crowded place can also make me feel that way, unless I have recharged my "Safe Battery" for awhile. When the charge runs down though, I will want to go home, and cannot be persuaded to stay without a huge disagreement that will eventually develop into full-fledged fisticuffs, if I am challenged on this feeling. . .

Those are just a few examples of many more that have begun to seep into my current consciousness. . .I don't want this thing to cripple me. I am working very hard to understand it and let it serve me rather than Master me. But I know I have to have things a certain way until I learn to control or conquer it. Things have not been that way, maybe EVER, and that's why it has gotten this bad, I think. . .But now I have some ability to control it, as long as others in my life cooperate and don't expect me to be things I simply cannot, right now.

JH is my best friend, and is my "Safe" person. She is my ex, and knows me perhaps better than anyone ever has. There's a huge comfort zone in that. I know she is my Safe Person, my rock--because whenever there is any inkling that she will be too far away or inaccessible, or traveling anywhere without me, I can so easily freak out. I imagine that something awful has happened to her . . .the possibility that she may be either taken from me literally or taken from me figuratively. . .then I absorb the visceral emotions that engenders and I feel like my world collapses around my ears in a giant, thunderous cacophony of paranoia and co-dependence.

Now that I do have some financial stability, and some independence, I am caught in a quandary--between the proverbial rock and a hard place. . .

I know that I have become so eccentric that it would be impossible to expect anyone to be with me in a committed, house-sharing, relationship. I have searched the personal ads, corresponded with many, re-considered possibilities with old friends, tried to meet new people--and always, I am left with the impression that it is all for naught. I am in a location that is not conducive to making a living for most people, nor is it the first place on the map people point to when they are thinking of a state to live in....and The things I seem to require now are not exactly in the personality category of "easy-going."

So I might wind up alone, but I don't want to be.

I might wind up with someone, but not be able to stand it.

That 24/7 Slave-thing is looking more and more plausible."

I wrote that almost three years ago, and today, I can say that I am healthier than I've ever been and these symptoms are not as severe. I am much more easy-going, and I laugh everyday and keep a pretty positive attitude. I can leave my house and my comfort zone for longer periods of time, and usually mask my symptoms when they do appear. I have even managed to make long trips by myself-- one that included getting on a plane to New Jersey and staying at someone's home for a week whom I had known on the Internet for a couple of years. Another two times I made a trip to Kansas City, MO to meet other new friends or dates I had met online. I relish the idea of living in Kansas City—it has everything I've been looking for, and everything that I have not found where I am. But I know that I will never make that move unless I have a Safe Person and comfort zone already established there. I also forced myself to go to Branson several times for a long day and evening on a date; My Safe Person remains the same, but I don't freak out when she goes out of town anymore, and don't usually have tragic fantasies. These improvements are partly due to my concerted effort to improve and partly due to the fact that I have arranged my life so that these phobic reactions don't appear every often. These issues have been made more apparent recently, because I have been single for a few years and have been dating for the last year of it.

So if any of you out there share this challenge, take heart. Agoraphobia is not a mental illness. It's a behavioral disorder. And it can be addressed and can be conquered. I just haven't allowed myself to focus on ridding myself of it until now. So I have still more work to do.

I Gore A Phobia

Hillary for President.....in 2012

I would vote for Hillary. But I am convinced she won't win. As a matter of principal, i might vote for her, even knowing that, just to send the message. But i am fearful that it won't matter, especially if Bush's cronies have access to the machines again. Even though i believe Hillary Clinton is qualified, capable and would do great things for this country, I don't think this society is ready for a female president. I'm ready for one, but i don't think John Q. Public is.

Hillary's path to the White House (or should i say, "Back" to the White House) must be predicated on her presence in the administration as a Second in Command, or in some other high profile position, first. I think the wise path for her would be to throw her support behind a qualified, Caucasian man, with the understanding that she would be chosen as V.P. after he is the Democratic candidate. Then the voting public will see her as qualified, on her own merit, rather than as an extension of Bill, who was the victim of a republican smear campaign. (all that is for another blog--i still believe that Bill Clinton was the best president in a long long time, notwithstanding his personal issues which should have remained personal).

Every campaign peppers the media with slogans such as "it's time for a change" or "it's time for a new direction." But it was never more cogent than it is right now. With catastrophic climate change on the horizon, the need for change is only th tip of the iceberg (pun intended). With nations warring with each other and the threats of unrest and annihilation in our midst; with Americans fighting for their right to have employment in their own homeland, amid infiltration from outsiders; and with health care, education and personal safety continuing issues that are ignored, change is indeed what we need. Real change. Not the usual rusty cogs of the good-old-boy network, and most assuredly not the partisanship and petty mudslinging and outmoded electoral college and electronic voting machines that are far too easily manipulated. We've been a patriarchy long enough. Viva la matriarchy!

Hillary for President.....in 2012

Truth or Consequences

When it comes to lasting relationships with people in your life, I guess it might all come down to two things: Do I want to be right or do I want to be happy? I can, without hesitation, say that being happy

The next question becomes: can I be happy with the way things are right now, and with the way another person in my life is right now, warts and all? That answer remains to be seen and might take a little more time.

The thing is, after 8 years of college and some pretty hard knocks, I'd like to think that education counts for something. If it doesn't then I might as well have skipped the whole thing and just done drugs and partied and had lots of meaningless sex. Yeah, that would have been the school of life, but would it have given me a healthy view of the world and my place in it? Would it have helped make me the best person i could be? Would it have provided me with happiness and contentment and a sense of well-being? Would it have taught me how to have healthy relationships? Part of me thinks that the answer to that is a resounding "No"--so what am I left with? A compromise? a total denial? Perhaps honoring my own truths while allowing the truths of others?

It is a myth that one answer is the only answer and that one truth is the only truth. The only solution then, must be that compromise can be beneficial, and acknowledgment of our own tenuous grip on reality is only as real as we believe it to be.

Truth or Consequences

Heavy Sigh

It's kind of rare for me to be in a funk these days but that's where I am. We have a president who took the office by dishonest means, and is pissing off every other country in the world with his war and his bully mentality, and I fear that we will all be blown off the face of the earth before it's over.

I have just completed several books and am now in this dry spell where I don’t want to do anything. I don't feel well, and am tired all the time. I feel this cloying fear all the time, that I am somehow running out of time to have the life I want while I can still enjoy it. I don’t want to be single—I hate it. But I also know that I am way too aware of what I require in order to live that life I want. I cannot pretend I don’t' know that. And I can't compromise on most of it, because it's now about who I am, and what's important to me.

I continue to be chagrined and disgusted and disheartened by the choices out there in the dating and romance area, and know that I am not helping matters by this tendency I have to have sex when I'm not attracted, nor in love. I must make myself stop that. I think I finally can now, because I'm so tired of the dance. My need for intimacy, I know, stems from my disinterest in pleasing myself, sexually. I need another person in order to feel anything. And yet, I don't feel that much when I'm with those I have no feelings for. So it all becomes an empty experience over all. I'm sure it has something to do with those needed brain chemicals--if they aren't engaged, the libido just stays bored. . .all the more reason why I need a rich relationship that gives me a balance of things, so I can engage those sensations that we all like so much.

And then there are the sheer numbers of women out there who are liars, imbeciles, or emotional cripples—it's hugely depressing. Even the ones who are somewhat normal and decent of character, always seem to have some desperation about them—a desperation that will make them turn themselves over to me, in order to win me over. And none of them have problems with self-gratification, so I know it's for other reasons. They are so desperate for a mate that they will compromise almost anything if they think I might be interested in them as a partner.

My situation does not lend itself to finding the right partner either. I am isolated here and the only choices are ones I will not make. This entire region is fraught with bubba's, dykes, low-brow mentality women who have little to offer me. Since I don't partake of mainstream religion, I can't meet anyone at religious functions, I'm done with school, don't have co-workers, and any other usual method of meeting someone is also not available to me. So I wind up dealing with the internet. Yet I still find the same types there. I hope that somehow fate will see fit to send someone my way who will be just what I need. I've been trying to manifest that in many ways, but am losing my motivation swiftly. I must find a way to accept the possibility that I will remain alone, and I have to find a way to be okay with that. I don't know how I'm going to do it.

Heavy Sigh

Jersey, Wawa, and Little Miss Delaware

I just returned from a week in New Jersey, visiting a couple of friends. There are always dangers in big cities and always dangerous cities in every state. I knew that, and still, I had my own apprehensions; especially since a new report listed Camden as the most dangerous city in the nation. But i wasn't in Camden. And everyone outside Camden knows to avoid Camden. Apparently, even the Camden Criminals know to stay within Camden. Or something like that. But I was in Glendora, and it reminded me very much of Colorado Springs. Clean, relatively safe, and not at all threatening. Jersey gets a bad rap, maybe

My friends took me to Atlantic City and we went to a casino for the buffet. I had crab legs, primarily. Then we strolled along the boardwalk and then the beach, where i stared out at the ocean, watched the beautiful waves cresting, ebbing and sluicing onto the sand, and thought of how romantic it would have been if i had been holding hands with a girl of my own. I knew this was something i could thoroughly enjoy in the right circumstances. One of my friends found me some beautiful shells and I told the other she had to find me something too, so she soon handed me a rock. (Thanks, that was special). It was nice to be able to look for shells on a real beach--unlike my experience with the Gulf Coast.

A few days later, the Rock Giver and i took a walk in an actual city park. That's something--inane as it sounds--I've never done. It was a meaningful bonding experience for us, even though it was so cold that we were numb when we got back to the car. Again, i thought of how romantic it would have been to walk with a special someone (not that she wasn't special, Oh Giver of Rocks, but she was SPOKEN FOR!).

One of the more appealing things about the Glendora area of Jersey was the presence of a Wawa store on almost every corner. I love my coffee and Wawa is a dreamy place for any java connoisseur. There are always about 20 different flavors of coffee in carafes with all the condiments to make even Juan Valdez weak-kneed. And then there's all manner of snicky-snacks, like bagels and cream-cheese filled soft pretzels, and fruit cups and cheese and sausage trays--all fresh. I didn't even get a chance to sample the deli, but the selection was also impressive. It was the sort of convenience store that other convenience stores aspire to be. I could live there. We stopped several times a day while on our drives.

Another plus is that New York and D.C. are only 2 hours away, Philly is 20 minutes, and there is a plethora of cultural and social activities to be had. The Philly library alone held dozens of meetings and events for the Same Gender Loving folks, and the newspaper was full of other activities and social opportunities. Everywhere we went, i noticed, too, THE WOMEN...gorgeous, educated, cultured...it was all i could do not to rub my hands together in glee and cackle with delight.

I did have a rather rude awakening at the club BOUNCE we went to. A sweet young thang was "dancing at me" so i joined her on the dancefloor and exchanged a few ear-chats, learning that she was from Delaware, and came down to this club once every two weeks. The girl was hot, and i discovered a few raw hormones for the next several minutes, having a large time watching her gyrate and undulate, until i found out she was 18.

"Oh my god. I almost went to jail," I said. "I'm way too old to be dancing with you."

"No you're not!" she enthused.

She could not imagine the disturbing twinge that shot through me when i realized that i was actually entertaining some less than chaste fantasies involving she and I and a can of whipped cream. Little Miss Delaware was Unaware. I broke away and spent the next few minutes reacquainting myself with the sensation of air in my lungs and the burn in my leg muscles, and trying desperately to quell the burn in other areas.

Jersey, Wawa, and Little Miss Delaware

Insomnia, Sex, Guilt & MahJongg

There are several things that have kept me from writing lately. So I thought the only way I was going to get back to writing, was to write about what's been keeping me from writing.

One is a good reason that most people wish they had. I've been having lots of sex. I'm in the throes of a new relationship and everything is fresh and exciting. And the sex just happens to be really great, and that makes me want to continue to have it--especially since my self-imposed two year celibacy, where my only lover had a high and low switch and plugged into the wall. But now our hormones have calmed a bit. Well mine has. Hers is still uncannily like those of a 19 year old boy. I fear she has testosterone poisoning. She would throw me down at least five times a day if I let her. But I'm satisfied, and so I don't need to be thrown down quite that often. My hormones, I suppose fall into the "normal" range. I only require sex an average of 5 times a week.(wink wink). I think it's good to nurture the other aspects of a relationship, and if you're just doing the nasty all the time, you miss out on getting to know someone, heart and soul. And it makes it exciting if you wait a while between the slap and tickle sessions. My current partner assures me that it feels just as good no matter how many times a day I do it. Ironically, not too long ago, I was wishing that I had more than zero sex life. I won't say "be careful what you wish for" because that implies that I'm suffering some sort of punishment, when really I am basking in the sincere and passionate favors of an attentive lover. I shall not for an instant insinuate that this is a bad thing.

Another reason why I have been remiss with my literary endeavors, is directly due to insomnia and indirectly to guilt and obligation. I have been going through my usual phase of sleeplessness, and this leads to sleeping all day. When she comes home from work, I feel it is my duty (as well as my pleasure) to spend time with her. So when I am waking up, she is returning home and thinking about passing out from exhaustion right after I serve dinner. That means I'm wide awake, and ready to write and do other various and sundry things, to include, but not limited to moving furniture around, creating a painting, or filing that stack of papers that have accumulated on my desk. I've tried taking that prescription sleep-aid my doctor gave me, but all that does is make me sleepy for 14 hours after I take it. But if I don't take it, I don't sleep. I've tried the more holistic solutions of warm milk, herbal tea, and such-even alcohol. But none of them make me go to sleep. Some have sent me to bed long enough to lie there and think about the bazillion things I could be doing, but none of them deliver me into the loving arms of the Sandman.

The other culprit is MahJongg. That maddeningly addictive tile matching game from the Orient that has me glued to my computer monitor-click-swish-click-swish-until my eyes feel like they are made of bamboo. My theory on this addiction is that the game appeals to my great need to make order from chaos. And what could be more orderly than matching up symbols and clearing a page?

Because of this odd schedule, I am also off my schedule for taking my thyroid meds, and that can lead to all kinds of nasty side effects like. . . lethargy in the daytime, brittle nails, dry skin, easy bruising, poor vision and the loss of large amounts of hair (although, I have yet to see any hair fall off my legs. . .i suspect it's some cruel ironic joke from the Universe that the hair I wish would fall out, never does).

All of these things have resulted in a guilty, sleepy, hair-losing lump of nocturnal protoplasm.

So, to recap: insomnia, sex, guilt, and MahJongg. Heed well, my children. These are instruments of the devil.

Insomnia, Sex, Guilt & MahJongg

Baby Furry Ghost

I was on my way to my friend's house, delivering Frappuccinno and a Snickers crunch bar, and prepared to provide a massage because her back was "killing her." (Oh the things we do in the middle of the night for friends). The journey through the dark countryside on a blacktop road was a ripe situation for dreamy vestiges. I'm not sure i really did hallucinate, and i may never know...

But there i was, winding around the wooded road, trying to keep my eyes peeled for feeding deer that often wander near the shoulders, and my eyes caught the darting form, a dark arrow of fur, scuttling across in front of me, toward the woods. I slowed, and as i passed the little form, i could swear it was a tiny black kitten, sitting there with soupy eyes, begging for me to stop and rescue it from a life of eating bugs and dodging the vehicular bullets that swept past each day and night.

What if it was synchronicity? What if i was meant to rescue this kitten? What if i was supposed to pull it, mewling from the brush, pick the stickers out if its fur and take it home to shower it with affection, give it a can of tuna and a saucer of milk? I was already a little maudlin about the impending adoption as i pulled to a stop.

It was 3 a.m., and traffic was almost non-existent. Since I couldn't find a place to turn around, i moved to the other lane and drove in that lane in reverse back toward the kitten. I figured if another vehicle did appear in the lane, i would at least be moving in the same direction as them, and if a car came in the other lane, it would be like passing me, except my vehicle was pointed in the wrong direction, but moving in the right one...

After a period of time, i couldn't find the little kitten, so i continued to my friend's house, (in the correct lane, and in DRIVE, not REVERSE...)

SIDEBAR: i wonder why the display on the gear box doesn't say REVERSE and FORWARD? What kind of sense does it make to say REVERSE and DRIVE? Why not DRIVE and NOT-DRIVE? It's like, "I now pronounce you MAN and WIFE. Not HUSBAND and WOMAN? It's like, if you put the car into DRIVE, you will magically be driven, and you can sit back and read the paper and have a cup of coffee while you are shuttled to your destination...

Back to the kitten...

I was already a little sad that i was unable to find the creature, save it, offer it sanctuary.

A few nights later, a repeat performance had me on the same road toward my friends house. As i swung around the corners in the dark, ever vigilant for foraging deer and possums and raccoons, i thought of the kitten. ...Wondered if it was still out there in the darkness, afraid and hungry. As i came to the bend in the road where i had seen the kitten a few nights before, i watched carefully, just in case the kitten had some little feline lean-to in that area of the woods and would wander out to the road to hitchhike for a new owner...

And Behold. There it was. I swear. The kitten, sitting by the side of the road...what were the chances? Was the Universe telling me i didn't try hard enough the last time? I drove quite a distance until i found a place to turn around and returned, determined to answer the calling of human kindness...i had the same feeling i get when i watch one of those movies on Lifetime (Television for Women and Gay Men). I searched the opposite side of the road. I didn't see it. Turning around again, i searched on my way back by, toward my original destination, and still did not see the kitten.

If there was a kitten.

But why would i see the same thing twice in the same location, unless it existed? And if the Universe really wanted me to save this kitten, why didn't it tell the little creature to stay put?

I continued to my destination, feeling just a little punked.

Baby Furry Ghost

Psychic Hotlines

It's not that i don't believe that there are individuals out there who are gifted with psychic abilities, it's just that i realize these gifts are so easily exploitable and can be effectively faked.

Take that popular Psychic phone line for instance. If you spend a lot of time watching late night cable, as i do when i am online working on web pages, you will see the infomercial-style program over and over again. They mostly use the same three or four clips which they feel will "prove" how authentic their psychics are. I imagine they choose the clips which they feel cast them in the best light. But if you examine the selections, there are flaws in the logic.

I believe there are two types of flaws: one is the obvious staging of calls and callers, and the other is the gullibility of the callers themselves.

EXAMPLE: A woman is video-taped as she speaks with a psychic who tells her that she will be pregnant within four months. She tells him she and her husband have been trying to get pregnant for a while without success. She calls back and they put her on the air with the same psychic. She tells them that she took a pregnancy test the next day, and it was positive. Then she began to thank the psychic effusively, as if he had something to do with her fertility. This is a flaw in the logic of the caller. Whether the psychic had just made a lucky guess, or was indeed in touch with a higher consciouness, he was in no way responsible for her pregnancy, yet she continued to thank him adding, "You have given me my hopes and dreams back." With a little thought, it doesn't take a mensa-member to figure out that if she had just been patient ONE MORE DAY, she would have STILL discovered she was With-Child, and would not have had to pay the $100 or so for that conversation with the psychic.

An example of the staged calls is the time that the hostess called a previous caller, and asked how things worked out. Of course, the caller had a fantastic story that was so smooth, it was obviously scripted. She claims in the call to be surprised by the callback, and yet, does not hesitate, but launches into a rehearsed, neatly capsulated report that sounds more like a segment of Prime Time Live, than a response from some Jane Doe from Iowa, caught off-guard and unprepared.

And of course, each of these examples were followed up by the Hostess saying, "That gave me goosebumps."

Now understand, I have a friend who is a psychic, and the one person who keeps from from calling the whole thing a lie...i know from personal experience hat she has a real gift, that cannot be debunked. She has worked for several of those psychic services. She left the last job when they began to tell her, essentially, she had to lie and also that she must keep them on the line past their free time, so that they could make their money. To make matters worse, they told her what to tell her clients-regardless of whether or not is was what she saw. In all fairness, the callers give their permission to be charged for the call. And they have free will to hang up at any time. Surprisingly, they don't usually hang up. My friend told me she has found that callers are primarily looking for someone to talk to, and that's all. May i suggest finding friends that don't charge?

Buyer Beware.

Psychic Hotlines

Plaque Brain

I often have trouble remembering my dreams, even though i wish fervently that this was not so. Dreams are an incredible resource for a creative person, and this NO ACCESS thing makes me think that the Powers That Be are protecting me from some screaming ugly...

At any rate, when i do recall a dream, i like to write it down...if it's interesting...
so...

I was having exploratory brain surgery. Skull open, i had a metal halo contraption around my head. Two of the docs were in there--or orderlies, maybe...they were acting crazy, looking at my exposed gray matter. One of them even kissed me, laughing that I wouldn't remember and I was frightened of what else they might do. I couldn't defend myself in any way and could not speak--Like the surgeons had pressed a pause button on my language center.

Then the surgeons are in the room again, and are conferring; Like they've already looked and left the room and come back. They know what is wrong with my brain but will have to do another procedure. They are to take me to another O.R. for some reason. I want to know what it means, and am scared that it might be serious or dangerous. I can't understand what they are saying.

Then I am being guided down the hallway to the other procedure, except instead of being on a gurney, I am walking. They say they want to be sure I can walk so they know everything is functioning before the next procedure. But I feel so odd. . . people in the corridors are staring and I feel so exposed--I mean literally-- here's my brain perched inside the open resevoir of my skull...

I pass a little kid in the hallway who is playing with an object--a toy of some kind--and his mother grabs him and pulls him away from me; he throws the toy, and it lands in my brain. I hope the surgeons see it and remove it.

In the O.R, back on the table again, they begin scraping my brain. Seems it has got a film of something on it; this growth that has been suppressing my brain function. Like, Plaque-brain. This is the thing that is causing my cognitive dysfunction.

As the surgeons scrape the gray matter, I begin to have memories, and then I am overwhelmed with memories and knowledge. All the things I learned over the years that I never had access to. But it's too much, and they have to give me some sort of neuro-blocking agent to suppress it until I can handle it. It has to be allowed to filter in gradually so I won't have a mental breakdown. But I know that I feel so smart, and I am excited that I am remembering all those things. I finally have answers. I finally can stop saying 'I don't know.' I can go through my set list without a single mistake, and I can do it all visually in my head. I can remember my childhood, I can recall conversations verbatim, I can handle doing math, my checkbook, my finances; I can recall even the most esoteric of details gathered throughout my life; volumes of trivia; reams of textbook content; I can recite the titles of hundreds of books I've read. It's like that life-review thing that i believe happens when you die; where you see everything in your life and suddenly have a keen and all-encompassing understanding...But i also remember all the bad things and all the details. It's painful.

Yet, I realize that some things have been altered by my memory before--some things seem clear to me now that were muddled before. And although it can be overwhelming and unpleasant, it's worth the trade-off to me. I finally feel whole. I finally feel I have reached my potential and anything is possible. I discover that it isn't common to have this much brain power after that surgery, and they tell me that it must indicate that I was some sort of genius all along, but never knew because of this condition.

Then, my best friend, LS comes to the hospital and brings me a T-shirt that reads::"I know."

Plaque Brain