waxing poetic

I had a lot of time to think on my way home from peterborough today.

Composition of my thoughts:

What is the basis of 'Likes' and 'dislikes'. I hate brussel sprouts, and seafood. Why do I like broccoli? Or Pears? Or peanut butter? Is it biology? I'm not sure. I'm confused by this. Why do I like pink more then red? Or sweet more then sour? what makes me an individual? I'd like to avoid waxing philisophical here. I'm not sao sure its biology, that would lead me to believe that we're more or less the same, and then we wouldn't have such a diversity. so, if its not that, what is it? A soul? what is a soul anyway?

I was discussing past relationships with a friend of mine, and a few came to mind. I really seem to have experienced everything along that spectrum. Abusive relationships, dominant relationships, passive partners. I keep thinking back to white oleander, where Ingrid tells astrid that her lover should be mild, and trembling with a flower for her. Instead, Astrid falls in love with a man, and she is the one trembling.

I think thats how I feel.

I described one relationship in particular where my mate worshipped me. He was the pleaser. He would tremble for me. As I spoke, I realized how much I hate this feeling. my friend said it was interesting that I percieved such behaviour the way I did, almost with contempt. Its true.

I've said it time and time again, I don't want to be a princess. If a man can't treat me as an equal then he isn't worth my time.

I'm trembling.

I've met someone recently and I'm ecstatic.

It feels good to finally meet someone that seems as crazy about me as I am him. I suppose I shouldn't gush too much, but it's good to be happy.

Turn me on

'Like a flower, waiting to bloom.
Like a lightbulb in a dark room.
I'm just sitting here, waiting for you
to come on home, and turn me on.

Like the desert, waiting for the rain
Like a schoolkid, Waiting for the spring
I'm jut sitting here, waiting for you
to come on home, and turn me on.

My poor heart, its so dark
Since you've been gone.
After all, you're the one who turns me off
But you're the only one who can turn me back on

My half eyes are waiting for a new tune
The glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes
I'm just sitting here, waiting for you
to come on home, and turn me on.'

Norah Jones.

Definately how i'm feeling right now. Its amazing how emotions can reduce a mature woman to a giggling mass of jello. I'm enjoying it definately.

re-examining my roots

'He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar.
the only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star
He's the song in the car, I keep singing
Don't know why I do...'

I think perhaps I'm on the verge of knowing something deeper about myself. It feels good to turn the spotlight inwards and take a step back, I can see the map ahead of me. I see the twists and the turns before they come. But...

Its frightening too.

Can you change your own destiny? Can you alter the course? Can I erase my perhaps, predetermined route, and re-write my own future?

Is just KNOWING enough to change the way I think?

Sometimes I'm not so sure.

Okay. I'm talking in riddles. Lets take a step back.

Self actualization, Buddha said was the path to true happiness. Its not so much what you have, but how you feel about it.

I can preach and harp until my pretty little face turns blue. It doesn't change how I feel. I want to be loved. I don't think thats such a bad thing, but the choices I make in seeking such affection are. the hard part is I don't even think they're concious choices. I mean, if it were an issue of my behaviour I could easily change that right? Not EASILY but it could be changed.

So whats the million dollar question?

Can I chose what I'm attracted to?

There in lies the problem.

I'm attracted to certain types of men. Aggressive men. Dominant men. Passive men hold no key to my heart, I hardly give them a second glance. Passionate men with a 'Joix de vie' are the men that will catch my eye. Like a peacock showing off his fancy colours. However, I take a closer look, and those are the same men who aren't looking for a partner. A bed mate perhaps, but nothing more. So. in the past I've tried 2 solutions to such a quandry. I've stuck around under the false pretense in my head that I could make him love me. I'm worth loving, after all, aren't I? That always backfires in my face. I end up falling in love and he sees me as nothing more then a booty call. He gets tired or bored, or whatever, and moves on, and I'm left picking up the pieces.

Like a house of cards, one breath could shatter the foundation.

Or, second case I walk away with my head held high. I'll not be reduced to being a blowup doll for a man who can't possibly see how fabulous I am. And yet secretly I pine.

That can't be healthy.

What are the alternatives here? I'm way too boy crazy to be a lesbian. I don't want to stop dating altogether, sticking my head in the sand is hardly a solution. Obviously at this point I'm Jaded. I'm tired of thickening my skin so I don't bleed everytime someone so much as brushes past me. But I'm tired of being an island. I want someone to show me that the world isn't so scary. At the same time I do have men reaching out to me, but I'm not attracted too. Should I settle for these types of men? Passive men. Docile. Quiet, patient. Understanding, and weak?

'To make me notice, you started to shout.
Then you and all your minions started flapping your tiny arms all about
They said you were a wiseman, when'd they teach wisemen to pout?

I tried to forget you but you tied bells to your name
They jingled every time I thought of you, without shame
I tried to be unlovable, why couldn't you do the same?

Whats the matter, does your love need a home?
Alright then, Love me, Just leave me alone'

Its valuable to have some insight into myself, but I'm afraid without a picture to compare it too, its like having a one thousand piece puzzle with no idea where to start.

re-examination of my roots.

Melvin's right. I should start writing again.

Food for thought:

Cellular replication, more specifically the replication of DNA.

Question to answer: Can a virus re-write, or alter your DNA? I believe this answer is yes. Find out how. Can it change the basic shape? Would it he theoritically possible to rewrite it with different pairs, for instance. Adding lines of code?

Spawning from that, re read tess gerritson's 'Body double' and research how the pituitary gland affects cell degridation and aging.

Research: Djinn. Sections of the bible pertaining to prophecy. (revelations) 'documented' cases of possesion?

I feel like I'm on the verge of something big.

Exquisite Agony

She was stunning.

Soft, inviting mocha lips seemed perpetually pursed. Long, lucious chestnut hair framed her flawles caramel complection, surpassed only by her warm brown, almond shaped eyes. He watched and ached for her, to touch her, hold her, -take- her. He'd never seen the likes of her before, but assumed she was with the other asians. There were more of them these days, and the dogs didn't seem to like the americans. They could go back to China for all he cared, but they paid well, so he kept his mouth shut.

She wore a soft rose tonight. Her voluptuous form was wrapped skin tight in the supple silk, it made him rock hard just to look at her. Her english was harsh and broken, not that he cared what she had to say. Women like her were good for only one thing, and he would get it, if he had to hold her down and take it himself.

She inhaled deeply, her lucious chest heaving as her dead lungs filled with stagnant air. To any it would seem completely normal, but to her, it ached. She longed to breathe, to live again, but such would not happen. Her life had ended violently over four decades previous, though the chi coursing through her undead veins kept her well preserved. She looked no more then twenty, and really she wasn't. Sold to a geisha mother at the tender age of eleven, it was not much unlike being sold into slavery. By twelve, her virginity had been taken, ripped from her along with her innocence. She lived the life of a whore, an entertainer. She had no freedom, no purity, no comfort. She was a product of her surroundings, and nothing more. Never had she known happiness, desire was a sin. She was a servant, and though paid well, freedom of choice was a luxury she could not afford. Love was a lie, passion was unforgivable. She was kept physically safe, for a time being.By her 19th birthday, she had been hired to perform at a certain business party. Having attempted to decline due to the attitude of the rather infamous host, she had been prevented by her Geisha mother. The night finally came, and proceeded rather pleasently, until the guests began to leave. The host, a Yakuza of rather high ranking, attempted to take her, unwillingly. She fought him, clinging dearly to her life and celibacy. Her soul became so enraged with his force that it split, and a demon inhabited her, though even he couldn't help her at this point. The Yakuza slaughtered her, heartlessly and dumped her lifeless, bloody body in the harbor, believeing it was to be the end of her.

He had never been so wrong.

Her soul had visited Yomi, the fabled hell of the Japanese. There, it had endured tortures to horrible to imagine. They ripped her to shreds, only to sew her back together to play the cruel game again and again. There is no pain like Yomi, its exquisite agony is burned within you forever.

Unless of course you escape.

She did, in time. Her split soul returned, clawing through the Yomi realms, avoiding the treacherous demons known as the Yama Kings, and in one final agonizing effort, her soul joined her dead husk, and gave her second breath.

When she retruned, revenge was hers. In a blind rage, she found her attacker, and for days feasted upon his sweet flesh, keeping the son of a bitch in a half state of life and death, she fed hungrily on his raw skin and bones. On the fourth day he slipped from the land of the living and she devoured the rest of his corpse.

She had been found by a local Japanese court and converted finally to a Dharma. She had become controlled, once again, and she found her place. After months of difficult training, she proved to be a particularly gifted student.

Of course, in death her passions blew sky high. Everything that she had been denied in life, Lust, greed, hunger and passion became all consuming in death. They ruled her. She became messy and vulgar, rude and confrontational. A restless dragon in the truest sense, she was never the less a powerful opponent. Though her understanding of the arts seemed great as well as her ability to learn, she was not exactly wise. Having feasted near Nagasaki, the demon child had ingested defiled chi, a curse that haunts one for the rest of her unlife.

She left Japan 10 years after her re-birth, in search of conquest in the Americas. Land of oppurtunuties, they called it. Though she didn't believe it. She had arrived there and wandered for many years, streching her imagination and experiencing everything she could find, such was the way of the Thrashing dragon. Reality is a rainbow. Illusionary, but too colorful to ignore. Half life was an abominable state, their goal is to become alive as possible.

And here she was, thirty years later, still fighting for conquest and enlightenment.

She grinned faintly, her eyes sliding up his form as he served her a drink. She smelled sweet, the faint haunting scent of lotus blossoms seemed to follow her, he found that enticing. Her eyes sparkled with musky excitement, and he guessed she wanted him. She would have him, he knew, whether she wanted it so or not.

He wasn't an unattractive man, and he had his own share of women. Sandy brow hair and dark emerald eyes gave him that 'all american' appeal so many woman seemed to chase, and though his face was pockmarked from adolescent acne, women didn't seem to notice. A large built frame from years as a varsity quarterback hadn't hurt his game either. She wet her lips and he stirred, tilting his own head as she leaned in, whispering close.

'I want you..'

He nodded, grinning widely. So it had begun, the chase was underway. He nodded again finally, his hungry green eyes molesting her supple form, down her hips, murmuring in response. His breath was hot, and acrid. He probably smoked, she noted.

'I know you do baby. I get off in an hour.'

She nodded, pleasently as he leaned back, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She would buy him mints, or something. Anything to make it more pleasurable.

Its sickening how comforting the privacy of the mind can be,,,

People are just about as happy as they make their minds up to be.

Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier.

The leading cause of unhappiness is trading what you need for what you want.

Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more then the next man.

If who I am is what I have, and what I have is lost, who am I?

Better keep yourself clean and bright, you are the window through which you see the world.

Whether I succeed or fail, is no man's doing but my own.

Life's most urgent question is 'What are you doing for others?'.

One kind word can warm 3 winter months.

From the air, things look so ridiculous. Our fears so small, our fights so vain. I wanna pilot a plain with you, so all our problems look small too. Its just an inch from me to you, depending on which map you use.

All successful people have the habit of doing things that failures don't like to do. They don't like doing them either, but their dislike is subordinated by the strength of their purpose.

Love is not a relationship, it is the quality of one's own heart.

Its gonna be alright, no matter what they say. Its gonna be a good day, just wait and see. Its gonna be alright, cuz I'm alright with me. Its gotta be, Its gotta be, Its gotta be.

There are happy singles, and there are unhappy singles. There are happy marrieds and there are unhappy marrieds. there are happy living aloners and there are unhappy living aloners. Regardless of status, chose happy.

It takes a mighty good man to beat no man at all.

Where-so-ever you go, go with all your heart.

Zen masters say god is found in chopping wood and carrying water. That every tiny moment is as it should be. Life is not to be studied, it is to be lived.

Nothing makes a woman more beautiful then the belief she is.

Wouldn't know hat to do with another chance, if you gave it to me...

I'm sitting here listening to Fiona apple, pissed off out of my mind.

2 men I considered friends abandonned me this week. Its really been fantastic all around. No, really, I mean it.

I spilled the full story to Angie tonight. Felt good to let it out to a sympathetic ear. I'm still moody and indecisive though. I try to shrug it off like it doesn't matter.

I still feel the sting of rejection. Why isn't my friendship enough for some people? Why does it have to be more? I guess really, the fact that they want more should be flattering, but the fact that they turn down contact at all with me because I won't be 'theirs' is reason enough to walk away with my head high. I won't be someone's property. I can't.

Out of sight out of mind I guess.

I feel full of rage and depression right now.

Why doesn't my happiness matter to my 'friends'?

Big black horse and a Cherry Tree.

You should be stronger than me
You been here 7 years longer than me
Don't you know you're supposed to be the man,
Not pale in comparison to who you think I am,

You always wanna talk it through - I don't care!
I always have to comfort you when I'm there
But that's what I need you to do - stroke my hair!
Cos' I've forgotten all of young love's joy,
Feel like a lady, but you my lady boy,'

I love this song. Love love love. I'm sitting here, listening to it. It reminds me so much of my past relationships its scary. Is it bad that I want someone to sweep me off my feet? I guess I shouldn't add fuel to the chauvanistic fire, but neither should I lie to myself about the kind of man I want.

I'm tired of feeling alone.

I managed to get some time off work. Plans for the weekend. I should be smiling.

./sigh

Who the fuck is Alice?

I'm tryng to expand my horizons. Its working fairly well I think.

I'm getting really tired of being that shy, forgettable girl. I have a hard time showing people who I really am because I'm so mortified of rejection.

You know what I realized?

It doesn't fucking matter.

Who cares if so and so doesn't like me? Is the world going to implode? Will the planets stop revolving around the sun? Will mars crash into the earth?

No? So what the fuck have you got to be scared of then?

I'm Bright. I'm pretty cute (I think?) I'm passionate, and mature, and a genuinely good person. It took me 25 years to figure this out, but not a day too late I'm sure. So what does that mean to me? well for starters, I don't have to settle for the crappy relationships I have in the past. I know in my head what kinda guy I want, but in most cases I'll convince myself that particular flaws can be overlooked because of other things.

They can't.

I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy. I've known men who cheat. Men who lie. Men who steal. Men who make you love them, and then change their minds. Why do I need a person like that in my life? I'm just starting to build up my self esteem for really, the first time in my life. I'm confident. I'm smiling. I'd rather be on my own and lonely, then laying next to someone and being lonely.

I value everything every one of my relationships has taught me, and I try to walk away with my head held high, but looking back, I put up with a lot of shit because I didn't think I was worth it.

That changes today.

I've been working very hard the last week to push myself out of my shell, and bask in the joy of being content. I'm not all the way there, I still tend to be meek at times, but all in all its going very well. Hell, I even went down to the tattoo parlour last week to get my tattoo priced. I was SO terrified but proud of myself afterwards. I went on my own, before I wouldn't have ever done that. (they'll call me in a week or so when its ready, she had to play with it) Of course, Angie's coming with me to have it done. They didn't build Rome in a day.

I'm reading about buddhism. I like what I'm reading so far.

I guess this is enough for today. I'll make more posts soon.

angels

Last night the angels cried for me..

their beautiful faces hung low

heavenly voices sobbing softly

tears drifting like snow

They looked at me and murmured

"Why must you act this way?"

I looked at them and winced a little

I wasn't sure what to say.

"How can you understand me

How can you hope to know

How can you even hope to see

the darkness which my mind goes?"

They looked at me and shook their heads

They even moved away

"How can we reach a girl like this?"

they had the nerve to say

I may find comfort in my world

But that doesn't mean to say

That you couldn't reach me if you tried

If you cared that is, anyway.