such bright and shiny not natural things glowing and wriggling in the slightest of breeze as passersby brush the air with their scratchy cloaks and baggage. It is the Christmas season and the stores are crammed with parents and loved ones worried they will appear as epic failures in the eyes of the recipients of the merchandise so sought after. I admire them from a distance, but I will say this to you. I have felt that sinking pang of insecurity, of being afraid my child will think less of me. For years I put together the holidays for everyone. Making fudge and cookies and brickle (brittle to some of you) and candied nuts. I wrapped coffee tins in festive paper and clear shelf liner, then filled them with edible treasure.
It started as an economic thing really. And I had never drank coffee until long after those days! I miss those foolish times when I would wrap our wall pictures as presents and hang garland (the old retired stuff as we bought or inherited new every other year) and silk poinsettias from the windows. Every year I would add the well wishes and cards to the miles of red ribbon and tack them to where the ceiling meets the wall. They would stretch around the living room and down the doorways and even into the hallway. By now I imagine they would circle the perimeter of every room and doorway and then some. I still add what few cards I get to the box and ribbon(ed) ones; I just haven't hung them in ages.
You see I don't much celebrate or decorate anymore. Sure, when I can I put up a tree, but not the train set or the skating pond. I don't make goodies or wrap aluminium cans or go house hunting for light displays. The significance is lost. I give year round and love year round. The days of adopting a neglected family to bestow good tidings upon are lost too. Now I am the neglected family. My kid and I, by the world and the people and worst of all, ourselves. Why, we aren't even Christians, but don't fret, not without faith either. I love my family. Really. But I can't live with them. I know this and I can't live with too many others either. I have lost my sense of belonging in my quest for answers. I wanted those answers and I wanted the story...and I wanted it to cure everything that I saw wrong with my life. Two outta three ain't bad, is it?
What was I thinking? Cure everything? Like I'm some "maladeous" cretin? Knowing your sick doesn't cure a damn thing. I doesn't pay the outstanding bills or wrap the gifts or even put a smile on someone's face (unless they wish you ill will and that is just awful and...yes, happens to me quite frequently!). I was sick when I did those things. I was sick when I was born. Knowing made me stop and filled me with even more loathing for the family that bore me and the earth that refuses to make room for me. I am a blister on this soil. And I have been lost since long before my quest for answers and now realize all that time wasted didn't change anything for the better in me. It only gave my child another chance or break that I didn't get. For that I am thankful, that and the answers themselves. The point is obviously right in front of my face. I can't go back in time and be twenty-one and invincible again, or so I thought. Now I can't find a holiday heart on the road I have been traveling. But, there is a way, there's got to be, to get that fight back in me and derail this desolate path. There's a reason there is no one on these tracks.
I often think of things and relive the past in some macabre fashion during prescribed holidays. I can't help my self nor do I want to. So where does a mobe go in this infinite world of disdain? How do I carve a new niche out of what shambles I have? Today I will cook dinner and open our gifts (they aren't wrapped) and try to gather a smile for Lobo's sake and make something out of nothing and put aside my fears and worry over financial matters. Tomorrow I will ponder the path I am changing and decide what new roads lie ahead that await me. I suggest you all do the same and love who you're with. Embrace them and be thankful you have just one person who matters to you as I do. Let your friends know you care and let your family know you love them even if you don't much like them. Forgive, this is hard for me, terribly hard. But it is my "to do" list for the New Year that lies waiting for me.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
MC, HH and Fleas on Your Dog!~cheers!
Happy Holidaze from your Queen of Mean, Her Royal Highness, Your Majesty of Infinite Disdain~mobe
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Wicked Child Turns Forty Today
wicked child was born this day with one wry smile and hands clenched behind her back forever clasped for fear should they come loose, the entire funeral procession would stop dead and there would be more bodies to bury. She was made this way and her graces were left on the doorstep of her grandparents second floor apartment they let her parents. A tot and number two in line of procession as she had a sister full of life and smiles who everyone adored.
Unhappy is as unhappy does and I remember a conversation with a friend on his wall that shocked his friends, most of them being of the female persuasion as myself. They were discussing the pluses and minuses that go with being either negative or positive. I merely took opposition to both sides and decided to "educate" the un-knowledgeable in the ways of polarity. One cannot exist without the other. Wicked child knew this at an early age and embraced her credo long before it was cool to be a prick. I know all her secrets and know all her tales having journaled her life nearly forty years, four decades.
A woman child she was born to two parents who weren't quite happy to the second coming. It doesn't take long for a child like this to realize what end of the universe her bread was buttered and she knew she would have to pick her own berries and rape the trees and bushes and smash what little juice and life force she could to make her own jam. Bitter was the taste of her eyes' witness to the world and she would steal every chance she could to sweeten her view. I have permission to tell her tales because we are close, best friends really, and she reminds me of the time a neighbor child challenged her to a death match. The art of tossing frogs! What joys could be had when one's might is lifted on a scale of comparative value as the arm is thrust forward cupping the helpless amphibian and hurling it high into the air to witness its end on the driveway below under the hot sun of a June afternoon. Her face wrinkled and grotesque as her laughter grew and the vile, satisfied, contemptible beast of a child became more proud of herself for the bully she was. Curbs were a significant past time as she would watch ant holes and the comings and goings on the smallest of living thing,s and with her cup of juice in hand, she would drown the hole to squeals of delight as she watched them scatter to save the children, larvae, and their queen.
Girls are full of sugar and spice and this was was no different with her lying eyes of irreproachability and pure honesty when questioned. Only she was wiser than her masters and knew they would never ask the correct query so she would be exonerated from the need to divulge. She sees no need in things and decides the fates of many and the older she became the more horrid was her station. Wicked child indeed who judges and mocks and receives accolades for the folly of larger beast, man.
But now she finds no fun in her games of evil. And she finds no point in her carrying on, though she still is a wicked child and will always be a needy babe and hurried teen. She refused to change in a world that would change her and her like. So strong was the desire to define herself she merely added onto what wicked lay underneath than to trade it for feelings of polarizing sunshine. Now alone she thinks she has achieved as far as wickedness will allow and can sit safely in the confines of her domain as a queen of mean teaching the more magical of her gifts. She is chaos and death and judge and executioner. Tonight she sits with me to tell me her tale and to execute her role from this damned place she created. Tonight she doesn't clear her conscience but barrs her teeth and dares no one in particular to despise her and loathe her and be troubled in their sleep.
I let her have her way. There really was no other choice in the matter growing up with such a foul monster. So tonight she controls my hands and fingers as I divulge some of her accomplishments here and now...
A Wicked Child's Words of Praise
wicked child on mother's hip won't speak or balk or give no lip
shall walk her first barefooted mile alone without her sister child
wicked beast in blonde haired folly shall pick the highest berried holly
to receive the praise of warrior's feather when forbidden to venture out this weather
wicked heathen of piss and vinegar had no goodness seen within her
felled her shin and scraped her knee but proudly sports for all to see
a scar upon the shredded flesh as she pokes it further making it bled
never winces at the horrific tales of monsters, myths and pirate sails
this wicked girl will happy be when the world not bows but turns to flee
from sinister thoughts and ideas she bore of infamous deeds, nefarious lore
that brings a hush to old women's throats so she can smile and twitch and gloat
because she knows her place and accepts it fair and made a safe place, a den, her lair
a wicked woman was bore this day to be a jester for human fae
will jump wildly and macabre of dead bodies galore at her midday meal not a second before
as she gnaws and gnashes, kills her prey with laughter and awesome, shocking, deadly factor
has gotten herself another year to wreak havoc and mayhem in villages near
wicked child gives all to her profession contained that was chosen before her parents had named
the contemptible, fetal, demon spawn as it opened its eyes the first time to yawn
for boredom brings out the best in her spell and with four decades and no one to tell
find the time to take a break and share now with me what a wicked, vile, evil beast she be.
her wicked days have numbered so fast and she had happiness once a long ago past
and now knows the end of the forest is clear so must concoct the most wickedest things here
but don't fret or fuss it's her best work yet, I watch wistfully as she plays with her pets
like the sinister-gruesome woman of the hour, you would never confuse her for boring or dour
she leaves me with question the answer she knows, for you her readers have opinions to hold
"Does it make me all bad to be true to my like, will you behead me or slash me or impale me on pike
for bringing a balance and giving you right to make your own way because I shed a light
that wickedness is needed in this world it seems if those of you happy faces wish fulfilled dreams?"
...and her tired broken body from destruction shuts down. I let her sleep and watch her slumber as her minions, six of them all men, gather 'round her ample body like a cluster of theological stars. They look beautiful as I wonder how something so pure and exact can be so twisted and proud. I will never understand her and luckily I don't have to because she shows me mercy for some odd reason. Maybe because I don't judge her too harshly. Maybe because I see a need for her existence and maybe because she will let me have the biggest piece of cheesecake today. Who knows? But for now I will just admire this creature lying quietly....inside of me~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Unhappy is as unhappy does and I remember a conversation with a friend on his wall that shocked his friends, most of them being of the female persuasion as myself. They were discussing the pluses and minuses that go with being either negative or positive. I merely took opposition to both sides and decided to "educate" the un-knowledgeable in the ways of polarity. One cannot exist without the other. Wicked child knew this at an early age and embraced her credo long before it was cool to be a prick. I know all her secrets and know all her tales having journaled her life nearly forty years, four decades.
A woman child she was born to two parents who weren't quite happy to the second coming. It doesn't take long for a child like this to realize what end of the universe her bread was buttered and she knew she would have to pick her own berries and rape the trees and bushes and smash what little juice and life force she could to make her own jam. Bitter was the taste of her eyes' witness to the world and she would steal every chance she could to sweeten her view. I have permission to tell her tales because we are close, best friends really, and she reminds me of the time a neighbor child challenged her to a death match. The art of tossing frogs! What joys could be had when one's might is lifted on a scale of comparative value as the arm is thrust forward cupping the helpless amphibian and hurling it high into the air to witness its end on the driveway below under the hot sun of a June afternoon. Her face wrinkled and grotesque as her laughter grew and the vile, satisfied, contemptible beast of a child became more proud of herself for the bully she was. Curbs were a significant past time as she would watch ant holes and the comings and goings on the smallest of living thing,s and with her cup of juice in hand, she would drown the hole to squeals of delight as she watched them scatter to save the children, larvae, and their queen.
Girls are full of sugar and spice and this was was no different with her lying eyes of irreproachability and pure honesty when questioned. Only she was wiser than her masters and knew they would never ask the correct query so she would be exonerated from the need to divulge. She sees no need in things and decides the fates of many and the older she became the more horrid was her station. Wicked child indeed who judges and mocks and receives accolades for the folly of larger beast, man.
But now she finds no fun in her games of evil. And she finds no point in her carrying on, though she still is a wicked child and will always be a needy babe and hurried teen. She refused to change in a world that would change her and her like. So strong was the desire to define herself she merely added onto what wicked lay underneath than to trade it for feelings of polarizing sunshine. Now alone she thinks she has achieved as far as wickedness will allow and can sit safely in the confines of her domain as a queen of mean teaching the more magical of her gifts. She is chaos and death and judge and executioner. Tonight she sits with me to tell me her tale and to execute her role from this damned place she created. Tonight she doesn't clear her conscience but barrs her teeth and dares no one in particular to despise her and loathe her and be troubled in their sleep.
I let her have her way. There really was no other choice in the matter growing up with such a foul monster. So tonight she controls my hands and fingers as I divulge some of her accomplishments here and now...
A Wicked Child's Words of Praise
wicked child on mother's hip won't speak or balk or give no lip
shall walk her first barefooted mile alone without her sister child
wicked beast in blonde haired folly shall pick the highest berried holly
to receive the praise of warrior's feather when forbidden to venture out this weather
wicked heathen of piss and vinegar had no goodness seen within her
felled her shin and scraped her knee but proudly sports for all to see
a scar upon the shredded flesh as she pokes it further making it bled
never winces at the horrific tales of monsters, myths and pirate sails
this wicked girl will happy be when the world not bows but turns to flee
from sinister thoughts and ideas she bore of infamous deeds, nefarious lore
that brings a hush to old women's throats so she can smile and twitch and gloat
because she knows her place and accepts it fair and made a safe place, a den, her lair
a wicked woman was bore this day to be a jester for human fae
will jump wildly and macabre of dead bodies galore at her midday meal not a second before
as she gnaws and gnashes, kills her prey with laughter and awesome, shocking, deadly factor
has gotten herself another year to wreak havoc and mayhem in villages near
wicked child gives all to her profession contained that was chosen before her parents had named
the contemptible, fetal, demon spawn as it opened its eyes the first time to yawn
for boredom brings out the best in her spell and with four decades and no one to tell
find the time to take a break and share now with me what a wicked, vile, evil beast she be.
her wicked days have numbered so fast and she had happiness once a long ago past
and now knows the end of the forest is clear so must concoct the most wickedest things here
but don't fret or fuss it's her best work yet, I watch wistfully as she plays with her pets
like the sinister-gruesome woman of the hour, you would never confuse her for boring or dour
she leaves me with question the answer she knows, for you her readers have opinions to hold
"Does it make me all bad to be true to my like, will you behead me or slash me or impale me on pike
for bringing a balance and giving you right to make your own way because I shed a light
that wickedness is needed in this world it seems if those of you happy faces wish fulfilled dreams?"
...and her tired broken body from destruction shuts down. I let her sleep and watch her slumber as her minions, six of them all men, gather 'round her ample body like a cluster of theological stars. They look beautiful as I wonder how something so pure and exact can be so twisted and proud. I will never understand her and luckily I don't have to because she shows me mercy for some odd reason. Maybe because I don't judge her too harshly. Maybe because I see a need for her existence and maybe because she will let me have the biggest piece of cheesecake today. Who knows? But for now I will just admire this creature lying quietly....inside of me~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Just Desserts
just desserts come when you least expect it and then they don't always taste as sweet as you first thought. I went to dinner recently with someone from my past. He has been having problems with a stepchild who is all grown up and full of piss and vinegar. I personally have no ill will feelings toward one over the other and barely even know the young lady in question but consider her mother to be one of the world's causes for global warming via her methane production (can you say "MOOOOOO"?). My child knows these people and at one time I was fond of the man and then things had fallen apart to such the disaster of communication we have today.
You see he raised this kid. He has two natural children that the gods saw fit to thrust upon others to raise because they KNEW he was not fit. And being the stubborn little prick he is and always was he insisted he was smarter than them and knew HOW to raise a child and set out to prove the gods wrong. He fell in love/lust/need of this child's mother and in doing so got himself a packaged deal. A bouncing baby girl of about 6 yrs old. Now she's a swarthy 22yrs I think. And she is rebellious and disrespectful and all things you would expect of a teenager who has never been told no and put on a pedestal. All the while his own two natural children received less attention than the evening's beer bottles that lay strewn about on the floor. He taught this girl to drink and wear tattoos long before she was even old enough to purchase them for herself. He taught her what a "haughty" and self-indignant righteous attitude was by his example. He taught her how little he cared for anyone other than himself by hurting her mother repeatedly either emotionally or physically and financially or all. So the next part I'm going to tell you shouldn't come as a shock...
When he moved her mother out and took in another woman while still married to the kid's mom it devastated her. Her mom is disabled and not well (no this isn't my story) but the kid sucked it up. She decided she didn't want to move to another state because all her friends were here and he let her stay with him. He thought it was cool one of "his" kids wanted to "hang out" with him. She lived with him then moved out then moved back in like kids do when trying to get on their own. Only...this last time...she came home drunk one evening and he laid into her verbally, kinda like the way he used to with her mom. And she plowed him. (good for her) And he pushed her. Fight over. Most all was settled and some several minutes later the police were at his house to arrest him. In his pj's he was cuffed and shoved into the back of a cruiser to head to jail. No underwear, no shoes/slippers, no shirt, no sweater....just a pair of Cat In The Hat sleep pants that read something along the lines of "The Things I Can Do!"...*chuckles. The charge was domestic battery. The little bitch called the cops on him and while he was in jail cleaned out his house and left like the thief in the night she was. Needless to say she was never going to be welcome back again, so he tells me but we shall see.
So I bet you're all wondering where is the just desserts? The truth is the guy is a major fuckup with a chip on his shoulder. He is a wife beater and neglectful and seedy and criminal. He expects plenty for nothing and takes credit for shit he has no right to. So, when he was relaying his tale of his trip to the clink I couldn't help but get this warm and funny feeling in the pit of my stomache...you see I know this man. Quite well. And the thought of him sitting in jail in those pants in the middle of a pod of really bad fuckers, all 5'4" & 128lbs (soaking wet) of him, like a twink in those pants advertising what a fruit he is behind closed doors (he loves to be open with me about the things he has done), I couldn't help but crack the fuck up and think to myself..."SELF! This is what makes life worth living!"
It was funny and cute. The look on his face as he told me and my kid this tale was just even more funny because you could see him reliving his fears in his own eyes. He knew hell that day. He knew what it was like to live with "him" and the things that happen as a result. But my laughter was lost soon afterwards and only a wry smile traces along my mouth and lips. You should have seen my kid's face though...the problem is this: I feel sorry for the chump. Not because it happened. It should have happened a long time ago really. I feel sorry because it took so long for him to realize the error of his ways and he seems in a particularly devastating place and at some pivotal moment in his 42yrs of life. He is where I was at when I was 25yrs old. And he put me there.
This is my daughter's father. The man who spent tens of thousands of dollars on his stepchild for karate and all sorts of shit a kid really doesn't need and they really couldn't afford but made every excuse in the book to avoid seeing his own kid and making her LAST in his world. He never has set eyes on his other child from a previous marriage and the only one he can claim to have raised was his step. And she "bit" him...HARD! And I feel sleazy trying to enjoy the irony and the humor of the whole ordeal. Because he is my daughter's father. We went to dinner together. I paid because for once he was broke which he never is. This is the first time I was able to see him as a child and lost and needy and I wondered why I couldn't see all this ahead of time...but then am glad I hadn't because the one good thing he ever did was make me a mother, even if he didn't intend on staying a father (that ill-fated drunken night he called me and told me I had a lovely parting gift that he GAVE me my kid like I always wanted...I hated him for saying that but it was true...only I thought he wanted to be her daddy and my husband and build a life together. Those words still stung...).
Our evening was pleasant as we ate and listened to his story. I was dressed well and he looked like his mommy had left to his granny's house and forgot to leave out and iron his clothes. His daughter sat next to him and I was across the table. That meal was the first he ate in a week because he has always been too proud (of what right?!?!) to ask for help. But I helped him and spent the time with him and yes, even laughed at him. As much as I had despised that man and wanted bad things to happen to him, I now know that I wasn't thinking on what was best for his kid(s). I'm glad they let him go and that no dude tried to make him their unholy bride (chuckles). That knowledge would have hurt Lobo more than you know and I would have had to pick up more pieces as a result of is actions. The truly funny thing is he never hit the child in question. She hit him and for all the slaps and threats I received I think he had it coming. Now my kid has at least one good memory of her father and mother together laughing at his folly and spending an evening together. And...for that I am grateful.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
You see he raised this kid. He has two natural children that the gods saw fit to thrust upon others to raise because they KNEW he was not fit. And being the stubborn little prick he is and always was he insisted he was smarter than them and knew HOW to raise a child and set out to prove the gods wrong. He fell in love/lust/need of this child's mother and in doing so got himself a packaged deal. A bouncing baby girl of about 6 yrs old. Now she's a swarthy 22yrs I think. And she is rebellious and disrespectful and all things you would expect of a teenager who has never been told no and put on a pedestal. All the while his own two natural children received less attention than the evening's beer bottles that lay strewn about on the floor. He taught this girl to drink and wear tattoos long before she was even old enough to purchase them for herself. He taught her what a "haughty" and self-indignant righteous attitude was by his example. He taught her how little he cared for anyone other than himself by hurting her mother repeatedly either emotionally or physically and financially or all. So the next part I'm going to tell you shouldn't come as a shock...
When he moved her mother out and took in another woman while still married to the kid's mom it devastated her. Her mom is disabled and not well (no this isn't my story) but the kid sucked it up. She decided she didn't want to move to another state because all her friends were here and he let her stay with him. He thought it was cool one of "his" kids wanted to "hang out" with him. She lived with him then moved out then moved back in like kids do when trying to get on their own. Only...this last time...she came home drunk one evening and he laid into her verbally, kinda like the way he used to with her mom. And she plowed him. (good for her) And he pushed her. Fight over. Most all was settled and some several minutes later the police were at his house to arrest him. In his pj's he was cuffed and shoved into the back of a cruiser to head to jail. No underwear, no shoes/slippers, no shirt, no sweater....just a pair of Cat In The Hat sleep pants that read something along the lines of "The Things I Can Do!"...*chuckles. The charge was domestic battery. The little bitch called the cops on him and while he was in jail cleaned out his house and left like the thief in the night she was. Needless to say she was never going to be welcome back again, so he tells me but we shall see.
So I bet you're all wondering where is the just desserts? The truth is the guy is a major fuckup with a chip on his shoulder. He is a wife beater and neglectful and seedy and criminal. He expects plenty for nothing and takes credit for shit he has no right to. So, when he was relaying his tale of his trip to the clink I couldn't help but get this warm and funny feeling in the pit of my stomache...you see I know this man. Quite well. And the thought of him sitting in jail in those pants in the middle of a pod of really bad fuckers, all 5'4" & 128lbs (soaking wet) of him, like a twink in those pants advertising what a fruit he is behind closed doors (he loves to be open with me about the things he has done), I couldn't help but crack the fuck up and think to myself..."SELF! This is what makes life worth living!"
It was funny and cute. The look on his face as he told me and my kid this tale was just even more funny because you could see him reliving his fears in his own eyes. He knew hell that day. He knew what it was like to live with "him" and the things that happen as a result. But my laughter was lost soon afterwards and only a wry smile traces along my mouth and lips. You should have seen my kid's face though...the problem is this: I feel sorry for the chump. Not because it happened. It should have happened a long time ago really. I feel sorry because it took so long for him to realize the error of his ways and he seems in a particularly devastating place and at some pivotal moment in his 42yrs of life. He is where I was at when I was 25yrs old. And he put me there.
This is my daughter's father. The man who spent tens of thousands of dollars on his stepchild for karate and all sorts of shit a kid really doesn't need and they really couldn't afford but made every excuse in the book to avoid seeing his own kid and making her LAST in his world. He never has set eyes on his other child from a previous marriage and the only one he can claim to have raised was his step. And she "bit" him...HARD! And I feel sleazy trying to enjoy the irony and the humor of the whole ordeal. Because he is my daughter's father. We went to dinner together. I paid because for once he was broke which he never is. This is the first time I was able to see him as a child and lost and needy and I wondered why I couldn't see all this ahead of time...but then am glad I hadn't because the one good thing he ever did was make me a mother, even if he didn't intend on staying a father (that ill-fated drunken night he called me and told me I had a lovely parting gift that he GAVE me my kid like I always wanted...I hated him for saying that but it was true...only I thought he wanted to be her daddy and my husband and build a life together. Those words still stung...).
Our evening was pleasant as we ate and listened to his story. I was dressed well and he looked like his mommy had left to his granny's house and forgot to leave out and iron his clothes. His daughter sat next to him and I was across the table. That meal was the first he ate in a week because he has always been too proud (of what right?!?!) to ask for help. But I helped him and spent the time with him and yes, even laughed at him. As much as I had despised that man and wanted bad things to happen to him, I now know that I wasn't thinking on what was best for his kid(s). I'm glad they let him go and that no dude tried to make him their unholy bride (chuckles). That knowledge would have hurt Lobo more than you know and I would have had to pick up more pieces as a result of is actions. The truly funny thing is he never hit the child in question. She hit him and for all the slaps and threats I received I think he had it coming. Now my kid has at least one good memory of her father and mother together laughing at his folly and spending an evening together. And...for that I am grateful.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Cleaning the Slates Again
sometimes it becomes hard to change everything we want to about ourselves. Try and try again but we fall short of the mark to be able to achieve a completely clean slate. The only way we can release the past is to rectify the numbers and tabulate the losses and let them go. Some of us find it most difficult. Those of us with impeccable memories can attest to that...
My ex and I went to dinner this evening with our child. He remarked that I wasn't all bad. I agreed but more importantly, I knew I wasn't all bad back then either. I saw myself in his eyes and realized he replaced the fresh-faced girl he once knew with the shrew he created and about damn near forgot the woman he fell in love with so long ago. And it shocked me. I never forgot the kind and silly boy he was. I hold that memory close to my heart and pray everyday she is with him that he is still like that boy when he is with her. I like that image better than the monster I grew to know.
I want to change my future but I have to account for my past. I was a good girl yes, but I was a cunt too. I know this and most days I am quite proud of the fact. He should be too as he had a hand in setting the things in motion that would enable me to become the shrewd business woman and cautious ally that I am today with people I interact with. In order to rectify my past I have to accept not that I am this but that I became this. And let it go...I think I did that tonight. I no longer view him as a child so much as a man who is broken and that it is HIS choice to fix "it" or not. I chose to leave long ago and I don't regret it.
Lobo sleeps tonight under his watchful eye but also with the knowledge I have culminated in her and planted like a seed. Someday she will look back on today and realize we are just two people who got along long enough to create this beautiful creature and bestow upon her the skills we could (or not) and set her out to accomplish her goals. It is all we can hope for and in a sense...I am at great peace in the know of my part in that~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
My ex and I went to dinner this evening with our child. He remarked that I wasn't all bad. I agreed but more importantly, I knew I wasn't all bad back then either. I saw myself in his eyes and realized he replaced the fresh-faced girl he once knew with the shrew he created and about damn near forgot the woman he fell in love with so long ago. And it shocked me. I never forgot the kind and silly boy he was. I hold that memory close to my heart and pray everyday she is with him that he is still like that boy when he is with her. I like that image better than the monster I grew to know.
I want to change my future but I have to account for my past. I was a good girl yes, but I was a cunt too. I know this and most days I am quite proud of the fact. He should be too as he had a hand in setting the things in motion that would enable me to become the shrewd business woman and cautious ally that I am today with people I interact with. In order to rectify my past I have to accept not that I am this but that I became this. And let it go...I think I did that tonight. I no longer view him as a child so much as a man who is broken and that it is HIS choice to fix "it" or not. I chose to leave long ago and I don't regret it.
Lobo sleeps tonight under his watchful eye but also with the knowledge I have culminated in her and planted like a seed. Someday she will look back on today and realize we are just two people who got along long enough to create this beautiful creature and bestow upon her the skills we could (or not) and set her out to accomplish her goals. It is all we can hope for and in a sense...I am at great peace in the know of my part in that~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I Was Just Thinking...
I Was Just Thinking...
the walls do cave when the lights go out and the lone-ness sets in
it is all I can do to not shed one drop of saline in the hopes that I appear "together" to the outside
a realm apart and always too self aware and now...hopeless
lifeless...wanting so much with so little to put in the place of these wants.
it is why I don't achieve. I have nothing to give and it is known that there is no barter here
days keep going too fast and I have finished naught what was started decades ago
given up for the love of another and another and another and another
until little pieces of me were gone like marbles in the dirt
and now
I want them back. All of them.
I want those pieces back and to feel whole again and when I look back I can't see a particular day
one moment in time or period to which I was completely satisfied.
there isn't one. I was too young when I was young and now I am too old, but I am young
I have always been too short to reach anything even my own goals and too wide to hide
I am even too thick to put to bed and lay to rest and too smart to get along with many
been accused of being funny and insane without even trying, and sent a joke faltering into thin air
...without so much as a snicker
so I have done nothing.
I sit for the first time with all that belongs to me of the physical sense of "things" and pets and kid
and I take no claim to any of it.
and seven of those things are alive and rely on me as if I was their life force to provide for them
and I suck at that too. I resent having to do it alone but I don't resent doing it
I resent having to make so many sacrifices but I wouldn't have done it any other way
I resent being stubborn and defiant when others have praised me for it claiming it makes me stronger
convictions suck
everyday is lived to be honest and good for some invisible belief that in the end it all matters
watching people do less and take more and prostitute themselves with lies and cheats and hatred
and I see it all
from my computer and my car and my cell and my eyes, though failing, along with my teeth
oh I look so young, but I see a day when all this blessed youthful visage gives way to a haggard old cat lady
so the boys and girls of tomorrow can poke more fun at and not just the size of her ass
tired is not the word for what I am
lonely and tired
lonely for like minded people and tired beyond the human years I was given
but I'm not
and yet I am expected to be
by everyone, even those who would say nay
because it is all they know and it is hard to contemplate the fact I even exist
or that my world is completely different
I have no rights
they tell me this while I am being chained to a flock
I have to conform
I must obey
and there is no reward
disdain and despair are like dancers on stage
calling me to bear witness
as I sit at my computer and watch what's left fall apart in a world not designed by mine
with hands who claim no fault
and dodge stones and tomatoes.
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
A Headless Chicken On Your Superhighway
it takes money to get anywhere nowadays. Today I spent quite a bit getting electric and water and sewer and what not turned on and now I still have to get cable/internet/phone on and change address with license, court, disability, SSD, business and banking. Always something.
I am sad today for a different reason. Not entirely miserable so just stay seated and chill. I will miss certain facets of what has come to be a crutch and co-dependent excuse for my disdain. I have always been good at pointing out the obvious so why shouldn't I take a "pot shot" at myself once in a while? Pretty soon over the Thanksgiving holiday I will be changing Laurel's school and unpacking and setting up "mobe-stead" for the pending future. I am already unhappy and finding fault with the place and finding reasons to sabotage my own unhappiness because I am letting fear guide my logic. Not very smart of the lass now is it?
I don't necessarily let fear rule me like that. I do let it push me and motivate me and once I grab my cast iron frying pan and my last grouping of "sons" (the kittehs), I will be completely on my own, again. I won't have anyone to blame for my folly that I know of yet though the fates love to act like bowling is played by placing you, the ball, at the end of the alley and throwing the fucking pins at you until you either bleed out or fall down. And fall down I do, often and truly most of the time not on purpose and usually at the mirthy happiness of others who find it amusing. It's tragic really because I don't advocate living this fucked up...I guess we all have incomplete puzzles we need to put together and kudos to those that get it done or at least admit it AND start to work on it. For me it is a lifetime quest really.
It's not that I'm afraid for my own sake. Any single person is always going to find a way. But to still have children at home...it is difficult and the they get more difficult because they see and witness the fallacies. Teenagers pick up on everything and then...throw it in your face. I don't want that kind of failure. I haven't been perfect but I have been close. She's testing her wings and trying to flex her "mean" muscles to stand up for herself. And she's doing it with people who love her and whom she has no reason to be so forward with. I only want her to be happy and it is why I worry so much and try so hard, for her.
It's a hard knock life and when I was younger I got to play "Annie" in a silly elementary school play. I could identify with the little girl in her crappy life and hoping and dreaming it would be better. That the guardians who looked after her were imposters and that a "real" mommy and daddy would come and put their arms around her and tell her she was loved and special beyond her wildest dreams. Then, life kicked her in the crotch. Hard. And she got up and dusted herself off and worked her ass off to make something, if even small, of herself. I am proud of the things I have done. But I feel I could have done more and now I am unable to do much at all besides entertain you all and believe me that doesn't pay the light bill or last night's supper. It's my "Schindler" mood, where I suddenly realize that my good wasn't good enough and that I squandered away time and energy on foolishness and should have been working even harder. I am sad and feeling the sting of my own self loathing right now. If only our children knew! If they knew how much we did and how little at the same time and how important it is that they make something of this place and try to "fix" the things some of us had broke.
Sure, it isn't their job to correct our mistakes but the youth has its rewards and everyone even the weak and lame has a part. Mine is now changed. I point out the obvious and focus on trying to raise a good citizen. Most people pray they just keep their kids away from drugs and drama but I decided long ago it wasn't enough. If I couldn't finish what I wanted that she or he should have some sense of duty to "humanity" (makes me chuckle now when I think on it considering our current state of genetics) to not destroy what isn't ours. So she gets a one-sided history lesson along with theology, arts, sciences and math. I am hoping that for all the unfinished business I have, that she will want to work on some of it...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
I am sad today for a different reason. Not entirely miserable so just stay seated and chill. I will miss certain facets of what has come to be a crutch and co-dependent excuse for my disdain. I have always been good at pointing out the obvious so why shouldn't I take a "pot shot" at myself once in a while? Pretty soon over the Thanksgiving holiday I will be changing Laurel's school and unpacking and setting up "mobe-stead" for the pending future. I am already unhappy and finding fault with the place and finding reasons to sabotage my own unhappiness because I am letting fear guide my logic. Not very smart of the lass now is it?
I don't necessarily let fear rule me like that. I do let it push me and motivate me and once I grab my cast iron frying pan and my last grouping of "sons" (the kittehs), I will be completely on my own, again. I won't have anyone to blame for my folly that I know of yet though the fates love to act like bowling is played by placing you, the ball, at the end of the alley and throwing the fucking pins at you until you either bleed out or fall down. And fall down I do, often and truly most of the time not on purpose and usually at the mirthy happiness of others who find it amusing. It's tragic really because I don't advocate living this fucked up...I guess we all have incomplete puzzles we need to put together and kudos to those that get it done or at least admit it AND start to work on it. For me it is a lifetime quest really.
It's not that I'm afraid for my own sake. Any single person is always going to find a way. But to still have children at home...it is difficult and the they get more difficult because they see and witness the fallacies. Teenagers pick up on everything and then...throw it in your face. I don't want that kind of failure. I haven't been perfect but I have been close. She's testing her wings and trying to flex her "mean" muscles to stand up for herself. And she's doing it with people who love her and whom she has no reason to be so forward with. I only want her to be happy and it is why I worry so much and try so hard, for her.
It's a hard knock life and when I was younger I got to play "Annie" in a silly elementary school play. I could identify with the little girl in her crappy life and hoping and dreaming it would be better. That the guardians who looked after her were imposters and that a "real" mommy and daddy would come and put their arms around her and tell her she was loved and special beyond her wildest dreams. Then, life kicked her in the crotch. Hard. And she got up and dusted herself off and worked her ass off to make something, if even small, of herself. I am proud of the things I have done. But I feel I could have done more and now I am unable to do much at all besides entertain you all and believe me that doesn't pay the light bill or last night's supper. It's my "Schindler" mood, where I suddenly realize that my good wasn't good enough and that I squandered away time and energy on foolishness and should have been working even harder. I am sad and feeling the sting of my own self loathing right now. If only our children knew! If they knew how much we did and how little at the same time and how important it is that they make something of this place and try to "fix" the things some of us had broke.
Sure, it isn't their job to correct our mistakes but the youth has its rewards and everyone even the weak and lame has a part. Mine is now changed. I point out the obvious and focus on trying to raise a good citizen. Most people pray they just keep their kids away from drugs and drama but I decided long ago it wasn't enough. If I couldn't finish what I wanted that she or he should have some sense of duty to "humanity" (makes me chuckle now when I think on it considering our current state of genetics) to not destroy what isn't ours. So she gets a one-sided history lesson along with theology, arts, sciences and math. I am hoping that for all the unfinished business I have, that she will want to work on some of it...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Nothing Accomplished
unseasonably this is my favorite time of year and the travelers have set foot out quite early. I remember when it would snow in late September and early October and it has taken over thirty years for those days to come about again. I wonder what the world was like then and if the issues of the day were ideally the same...The 70's had oil embargoes and shortages; today too. Governments were overthrown and drug use was at an all-time high...if it wasn't the 20-teens I'd say it was the seventies all over again.
It would surprise you all to know that just like the rest of the creatures on the planet I ail. I am capable of being sick and requiring medications and such. I am even most amicable, or as amicable as one would expect when I am ill...only I try and keep to myself and then as a result, lose large blocks of time in the case of this weekend. I slept through it. And awoke to find no one called, no one messaged and to my dismay either no one missed me or no one had time. As sad as that sounds and it did, I wasn't too distraught in that fact. I usually have to fight and frustrate myself trying to play catch-up or posting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my wall, blog, door, voicemail and anywhere else. It was nice to be left alone for that duration. But I miss the flock wanting my words and my humor and my wisdom.
So I reflected in my solitude on the times and how not changing they are. How so much of each decade is poured into another and the way it all culminates into people just repeating themselves. Toddlers not listening, tweens wanting everything under the sun and teens thinking they know more shit than you. It was the same then and it will be the same some hundred decades from now. And not just with our youth. Our elder members are not much different than their fathers were. I reflected on politicians and disease and religion and even food. Nothing has dramatically changed other than the speed to which humans continue to make asses of themselves. Faster phones and cars and toasters and microwaves and television and technology, but in the end nothing has changed enough to have made a significant impact on how we use and leave this planet.
Did you know that even in medicine that the names they give diseases and disorders are only there to create a panic state and to unload "soon to expire" stockpiles of medication on the masses? No new diseases whatsoever and yet we have all these scary names attached to old diseases and no one wonders why? I have virus, a sickness, the flu. Pure and simple and because of my genetic predisposition to asthma and having copd it always turns into bronchitis. It's a sure bet. But nowadays it's the Swine Flu or H1N1 and a mass panic runs to the doctors and gets that dose of medicine in the form of a weaker strain of the disease in order to build up antibodies to fight it. I been fighting it on my own without a shot since I have been an adult.
So sickness shall strike us all and in the end, the only things we have accomplished as a collective is to perfect the art of war where we don't need actual people in the field (scary when you think of it that at any moment someone can see you scratch your ass or pick your nose and decide you aren't worthy of another breath and press that little fucking button and wipe you and your ovaries/spermatozoa off the face of the planet into a poofy cloud of fire and ash!) when we can just do it from an office somewhere in the urban sprawl. We sliced bread and found so many innovative ways to "not" do shit that we have become lazy. Too lazy even to give a damn or communicate properly with one another and we will be dumbing down our languages to non-existence before long. Shameful really but WTF?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
It would surprise you all to know that just like the rest of the creatures on the planet I ail. I am capable of being sick and requiring medications and such. I am even most amicable, or as amicable as one would expect when I am ill...only I try and keep to myself and then as a result, lose large blocks of time in the case of this weekend. I slept through it. And awoke to find no one called, no one messaged and to my dismay either no one missed me or no one had time. As sad as that sounds and it did, I wasn't too distraught in that fact. I usually have to fight and frustrate myself trying to play catch-up or posting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my wall, blog, door, voicemail and anywhere else. It was nice to be left alone for that duration. But I miss the flock wanting my words and my humor and my wisdom.
So I reflected in my solitude on the times and how not changing they are. How so much of each decade is poured into another and the way it all culminates into people just repeating themselves. Toddlers not listening, tweens wanting everything under the sun and teens thinking they know more shit than you. It was the same then and it will be the same some hundred decades from now. And not just with our youth. Our elder members are not much different than their fathers were. I reflected on politicians and disease and religion and even food. Nothing has dramatically changed other than the speed to which humans continue to make asses of themselves. Faster phones and cars and toasters and microwaves and television and technology, but in the end nothing has changed enough to have made a significant impact on how we use and leave this planet.
Did you know that even in medicine that the names they give diseases and disorders are only there to create a panic state and to unload "soon to expire" stockpiles of medication on the masses? No new diseases whatsoever and yet we have all these scary names attached to old diseases and no one wonders why? I have virus, a sickness, the flu. Pure and simple and because of my genetic predisposition to asthma and having copd it always turns into bronchitis. It's a sure bet. But nowadays it's the Swine Flu or H1N1 and a mass panic runs to the doctors and gets that dose of medicine in the form of a weaker strain of the disease in order to build up antibodies to fight it. I been fighting it on my own without a shot since I have been an adult.
So sickness shall strike us all and in the end, the only things we have accomplished as a collective is to perfect the art of war where we don't need actual people in the field (scary when you think of it that at any moment someone can see you scratch your ass or pick your nose and decide you aren't worthy of another breath and press that little fucking button and wipe you and your ovaries/spermatozoa off the face of the planet into a poofy cloud of fire and ash!) when we can just do it from an office somewhere in the urban sprawl. We sliced bread and found so many innovative ways to "not" do shit that we have become lazy. Too lazy even to give a damn or communicate properly with one another and we will be dumbing down our languages to non-existence before long. Shameful really but WTF?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Worth of Self
life isn't always funny and dramatic. We make it so and sometimes if even by accident. Your "miss mobe" (yes I still refer to me in small letters because though I may be a big bitch, the world will always be bigger than me) has lost herself again. Right now Peter Fucking Pan couldn't find her marbles let alone her heart...
It isn't that I haven't tried to keep things in order and perspective. I want to love and be loved. I could blame my mommy and daddy but ultimately, I have no one to blame. None of us really does. We are supposed to be masters of our own destiny. Only I am terrified because of the chain of events that led me to this fourth decade. Things didn't turn out as I wanted. Sure some have (Lobo) but most haven't. Trust was lost and fear set in like a perverse stalker parasite. I often wonder if there are any people who truly have it all together or if it is just a pipe dream on my own part and some due penance that I should ever aimlessly search for something that doesn't exist. Now I am paralyzed and fearful of many things. Being alone and "making it" and giving it another try. Fear of being worthy.
There are so many unfinished things in my life. Stories, poems, projects, recipes, songs, movies. I just haven't accomplished them yet because I am broken and crippled and need to face the truth. I need to see me as me and accept it and just rest and do what I can and learn to consider the fact that what my "best" is may not be good enough and to just be alone. But I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around that. We get old. We get slow. We forget things. But we don't forget what love is and drive and ambition. I want to be young and beautiful again but I don't want to succumb to cutting into my flesh to morph into some sickly looking creature with too tight skin and boobs far too close to my chin to pretend to be something I'm not!
Nor do I want a man who will do such drastic things to try and elude time when we all know when your number's up...it's fucking up! I am not aging gracefully. Time played a cruel trick on this broad and let her have a pretty face far too long. I look at my peers and family that are close in age to me as well as strangers I happen to meet and realize I was blessed with a few things. A great mind is a terrible thing to waste (or take for granted) and a great waist is a terrible thing to mind! I got the mind. I wasn't blessed with a 36-24-36 figure and neither was the other 99.99999999% of the female bi-peds out there. I was also blessed with the allure of youth upon my face with the wonderment of a wise old goat prattling about my head and the drive of a virile beast in their prime. And for all the blessing I was given came the balance.
Yeah, balance is at it in my head again. My "balancing" was my less than perfect physique which I have come to accept and love, every roll, every wrinkle and every spot, speckle and freckle. We evaluate ourselves and some of us come up with a "too high" sense of self and some a too low. I don't have either. I keep it real and don't lie. When I say that I am fat it is not "dissing" myself but stating a fact and people have issue with that and express the incorrect notion that they feel I have self esteem issues. LMAO. You guys know me and for those of you just clubbing in with your retro glow sticks, ask the fucking doorman who loves me most: ME!
Right now my conundrum is how to do this thing called life alone. I haven't been walking on my own two feet since I met Laurel's step daddy Jason, my second hubby in '99. A dozen years go by and I forgot how to believe I can do this without falling flat on my face and I have a teenager in tow (with the mind of a scholar and the mouth of a sailor and all of her maternal grandmother's crappy-ass attitudes) to make it more fun and scary. My other issue is this, I am unhappy with what the fates be blighting my body with. My organ failure has been kept to a minimum but only AFTER the damage to the body was done. Clocks are ticking everywhere and I am stuck with all this energy and want and drive in a broken body...and I have been letting everybody know I am pissed about it. Boo fucking hoo. I need to just take some of my own advice and suck it the fuck up and tell the haters to keep on hating and masterbating because I have NO time for them because you know what? At the end of the fucking day, THEIR clocks be ticking TOO and last I checked....it keeps the same damn time as MINE! I may outlive you all...wouldn't that be neat? It would sure be a sign that I really was/is the Princess of Darkness and Dismay...
So every princess deserves a prince. My last issue is trust. I have so much loathing for lies and have seen everyone in my life whether personal and close relationships or casual and anonymous ones lie. Even my own daughter. I hate it. She has me as an example but why would she want to follow MY example when she sees so many others getting rewarded for their lies? So she chose her own path and lies...maybe not as much as your own selves or children do but enough that it breaks my trust even in her. And...it KILLS me. Men are no better. Lies have fallen from the mouths of some of the funniest and most eligible bachelors and the sexiest men I know who seem to profess an abject lust for a full-figured woman. You would think that would be ideal? But I ask myself why would they want what the world has told them is "wrong" or "not acceptable." And I answer for them...because most people perceive us as being not only lazy and stupid (like that isn't enough) but also so eager to please (you all) that we would sell our souls and put ourselves and our futures in harm's way just to be in some bastard's presence who will mistreat us and later try and be cute and make it up with bullshit lies and fables. Guess what? I married three of you fuckers and guess what else? I will bury three of you fuckers before I go! I dated another hundred plus...and this fat bitch ain't taking it anymore!
So the love life is reduced to self stimulation of the most carnal and comical (if you could only see me-giggles) kind and a lonely hole (pardon the pun) where a partner should be. Should be...funny words. Maybe there shouldn't be anything there at all? Maybe I am too intense and too full of thought to have room for them and such? I don't know. I am a good lover and friend and provider and the most honest person they know (they LOVE telling me that and then telling me that I am also the most fair person right before they run with their tails between their knees and abandon the future we were supposedly building together) and always make more concessions for their short-comings all the while they love to rub my face in my own messes and beat me (figuratively though there have been a couple of bruisers) with a rolled up newspaper like I was a cheap stray mutt they took in and I let them down. How can I trust? Whom can I trust? Should I even consider it? I don't do drugs and rarely drink anymore and even smoke a hell of a lot less than I did years ago. I don't know what else to put in that hole. I don't have all the pieces to the game. This puzzle is missing something and I can't tell what it is. If it isn't a mate (female or male-I love them all) then what is it? I'm keeping cats and they multiply more than I do and they're all males! But I love them too, they just don't feed that hunger that grows for outside affection and attention...so....I come to you. My readers and my followers and yes even you, the secret little fucking haters who follow what I say just to store it away like a squirrel so you can use it to gossip and create your own little twisted reality because you feel so low about yourself that by picking on the fat chick, you think it makes you look good...yup...I know you're there. Some of you are even life's blood kin of mine, though I did not CHOOSE my family but was merely assigned to them and OWE no allegiance to ANYONE but my own progeny.
...and even though I have affection that I feel for you all, the love I receive from you isn't filling that hole. It warms my heart but it isn't the missing piece. I have always had haters and always had people who adored me. I'm like that. No grey areas here, only black and white. They love to hate me and hate to love me; they adore me and consider me brethren or would burn me on a Christian cross at the foot of Mt. Ararat and be done with me. I long for a working body, a working relationship and will concede the youthful looks so long as if I have to look like Fiona, they promise me a Shrek to stay in the dark dank swamp with!
I have to take care of medical affairs and financials when I move. I have to do it soon. And then I have to sort through the last decade lost and see what I can salvage (literally too in the form of 2 storage units) and chuck what isn't worth the effort and time anymore and take what's left and glue it all and duct tape it to make it last until the next go 'round. I haven't lost my funny bone and for that I am thankful (if I had I would have never mentioned a religious historical pass and a Disney kid's movie in the same breathe!) and haven't lost my wits...yet...
I try not to dwell on what kind of mom I am while juggling all this mixed up shit and self depredation. I love myself enough to cut myself deep to feel it, so I can remember it better. Not literally, though there have been times. I just don't want to cut my sacred duty in what and how I have raised my kid. I think I did well enough and continue to do so and that's it. Not great and not shitty. I gave her far better than I got and for that, I do not retract.
These issues are not yours. They are my own and it is my closet and you are my guests. I know you all have some of the same or similar feelings of worth and worthlessness as I have. I can't fix you. I am still fixing me, just know I am rooting for you all even on the days ending in "y" while I am trying to uproot my world and reconfigure it...all my love~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
It isn't that I haven't tried to keep things in order and perspective. I want to love and be loved. I could blame my mommy and daddy but ultimately, I have no one to blame. None of us really does. We are supposed to be masters of our own destiny. Only I am terrified because of the chain of events that led me to this fourth decade. Things didn't turn out as I wanted. Sure some have (Lobo) but most haven't. Trust was lost and fear set in like a perverse stalker parasite. I often wonder if there are any people who truly have it all together or if it is just a pipe dream on my own part and some due penance that I should ever aimlessly search for something that doesn't exist. Now I am paralyzed and fearful of many things. Being alone and "making it" and giving it another try. Fear of being worthy.
There are so many unfinished things in my life. Stories, poems, projects, recipes, songs, movies. I just haven't accomplished them yet because I am broken and crippled and need to face the truth. I need to see me as me and accept it and just rest and do what I can and learn to consider the fact that what my "best" is may not be good enough and to just be alone. But I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around that. We get old. We get slow. We forget things. But we don't forget what love is and drive and ambition. I want to be young and beautiful again but I don't want to succumb to cutting into my flesh to morph into some sickly looking creature with too tight skin and boobs far too close to my chin to pretend to be something I'm not!
Nor do I want a man who will do such drastic things to try and elude time when we all know when your number's up...it's fucking up! I am not aging gracefully. Time played a cruel trick on this broad and let her have a pretty face far too long. I look at my peers and family that are close in age to me as well as strangers I happen to meet and realize I was blessed with a few things. A great mind is a terrible thing to waste (or take for granted) and a great waist is a terrible thing to mind! I got the mind. I wasn't blessed with a 36-24-36 figure and neither was the other 99.99999999% of the female bi-peds out there. I was also blessed with the allure of youth upon my face with the wonderment of a wise old goat prattling about my head and the drive of a virile beast in their prime. And for all the blessing I was given came the balance.
Yeah, balance is at it in my head again. My "balancing" was my less than perfect physique which I have come to accept and love, every roll, every wrinkle and every spot, speckle and freckle. We evaluate ourselves and some of us come up with a "too high" sense of self and some a too low. I don't have either. I keep it real and don't lie. When I say that I am fat it is not "dissing" myself but stating a fact and people have issue with that and express the incorrect notion that they feel I have self esteem issues. LMAO. You guys know me and for those of you just clubbing in with your retro glow sticks, ask the fucking doorman who loves me most: ME!
Right now my conundrum is how to do this thing called life alone. I haven't been walking on my own two feet since I met Laurel's step daddy Jason, my second hubby in '99. A dozen years go by and I forgot how to believe I can do this without falling flat on my face and I have a teenager in tow (with the mind of a scholar and the mouth of a sailor and all of her maternal grandmother's crappy-ass attitudes) to make it more fun and scary. My other issue is this, I am unhappy with what the fates be blighting my body with. My organ failure has been kept to a minimum but only AFTER the damage to the body was done. Clocks are ticking everywhere and I am stuck with all this energy and want and drive in a broken body...and I have been letting everybody know I am pissed about it. Boo fucking hoo. I need to just take some of my own advice and suck it the fuck up and tell the haters to keep on hating and masterbating because I have NO time for them because you know what? At the end of the fucking day, THEIR clocks be ticking TOO and last I checked....it keeps the same damn time as MINE! I may outlive you all...wouldn't that be neat? It would sure be a sign that I really was/is the Princess of Darkness and Dismay...
So every princess deserves a prince. My last issue is trust. I have so much loathing for lies and have seen everyone in my life whether personal and close relationships or casual and anonymous ones lie. Even my own daughter. I hate it. She has me as an example but why would she want to follow MY example when she sees so many others getting rewarded for their lies? So she chose her own path and lies...maybe not as much as your own selves or children do but enough that it breaks my trust even in her. And...it KILLS me. Men are no better. Lies have fallen from the mouths of some of the funniest and most eligible bachelors and the sexiest men I know who seem to profess an abject lust for a full-figured woman. You would think that would be ideal? But I ask myself why would they want what the world has told them is "wrong" or "not acceptable." And I answer for them...because most people perceive us as being not only lazy and stupid (like that isn't enough) but also so eager to please (you all) that we would sell our souls and put ourselves and our futures in harm's way just to be in some bastard's presence who will mistreat us and later try and be cute and make it up with bullshit lies and fables. Guess what? I married three of you fuckers and guess what else? I will bury three of you fuckers before I go! I dated another hundred plus...and this fat bitch ain't taking it anymore!
So the love life is reduced to self stimulation of the most carnal and comical (if you could only see me-giggles) kind and a lonely hole (pardon the pun) where a partner should be. Should be...funny words. Maybe there shouldn't be anything there at all? Maybe I am too intense and too full of thought to have room for them and such? I don't know. I am a good lover and friend and provider and the most honest person they know (they LOVE telling me that and then telling me that I am also the most fair person right before they run with their tails between their knees and abandon the future we were supposedly building together) and always make more concessions for their short-comings all the while they love to rub my face in my own messes and beat me (figuratively though there have been a couple of bruisers) with a rolled up newspaper like I was a cheap stray mutt they took in and I let them down. How can I trust? Whom can I trust? Should I even consider it? I don't do drugs and rarely drink anymore and even smoke a hell of a lot less than I did years ago. I don't know what else to put in that hole. I don't have all the pieces to the game. This puzzle is missing something and I can't tell what it is. If it isn't a mate (female or male-I love them all) then what is it? I'm keeping cats and they multiply more than I do and they're all males! But I love them too, they just don't feed that hunger that grows for outside affection and attention...so....I come to you. My readers and my followers and yes even you, the secret little fucking haters who follow what I say just to store it away like a squirrel so you can use it to gossip and create your own little twisted reality because you feel so low about yourself that by picking on the fat chick, you think it makes you look good...yup...I know you're there. Some of you are even life's blood kin of mine, though I did not CHOOSE my family but was merely assigned to them and OWE no allegiance to ANYONE but my own progeny.
...and even though I have affection that I feel for you all, the love I receive from you isn't filling that hole. It warms my heart but it isn't the missing piece. I have always had haters and always had people who adored me. I'm like that. No grey areas here, only black and white. They love to hate me and hate to love me; they adore me and consider me brethren or would burn me on a Christian cross at the foot of Mt. Ararat and be done with me. I long for a working body, a working relationship and will concede the youthful looks so long as if I have to look like Fiona, they promise me a Shrek to stay in the dark dank swamp with!
I have to take care of medical affairs and financials when I move. I have to do it soon. And then I have to sort through the last decade lost and see what I can salvage (literally too in the form of 2 storage units) and chuck what isn't worth the effort and time anymore and take what's left and glue it all and duct tape it to make it last until the next go 'round. I haven't lost my funny bone and for that I am thankful (if I had I would have never mentioned a religious historical pass and a Disney kid's movie in the same breathe!) and haven't lost my wits...yet...
I try not to dwell on what kind of mom I am while juggling all this mixed up shit and self depredation. I love myself enough to cut myself deep to feel it, so I can remember it better. Not literally, though there have been times. I just don't want to cut my sacred duty in what and how I have raised my kid. I think I did well enough and continue to do so and that's it. Not great and not shitty. I gave her far better than I got and for that, I do not retract.
These issues are not yours. They are my own and it is my closet and you are my guests. I know you all have some of the same or similar feelings of worth and worthlessness as I have. I can't fix you. I am still fixing me, just know I am rooting for you all even on the days ending in "y" while I am trying to uproot my world and reconfigure it...all my love~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Mobe's Blog and Future
I been spending an awful amount of time contemplating why and how things could have gotten so rough. In my physical self I have no faith or trust. No hope. Mentally I still feel like a child with way too much knowledge but physically, I feel old, frail, vulnerable. Is this what we have to look forward to? Is this why old people suck at life and are angry and hostile and judgmental of the young? Is this what each and everyone has to look forward to?
I don't like it. I miss the days my body could do so many wonderful things and unrealistically think that I could somehow restore myself to some of that youthful mobility. I am only fooling myself and now, I have come to terms with it and have been contemplating what is there for me to do to be productive and not waste away in self pity. I know! I will write, it's what I do...but who will read it? I ask that quite often.
And each and every day I meet a new person who reads it and who gets me. The funny thing is not only have I found a fan following and basis and foundation to keep me going, but it would seem I have made a name for myself as well as notoriety. I am the evil twinkie in the cushion of your couch. I am the chocolat wrapper under your bed and that new pair of shoes you are hiding from your husband or wife because you know, if you get caught with me, that all hell is going to break loose! So what is a broken down sexy, loud mouthed goddess with a fat ass and even fatter ego going to do? I mean, how am I going to become a household name (if even a bad one *giggles) if people who adore me are afraid to let their friends see them "in bed" with me?
Mainstream was never my goal but it would be so nice to have that umbrella that comes with being in that particular group. It would be so nice to have a steady income again that I could say I earned and hold my head high and not give a damn about assholes and community who thinks I OWE them because I just recently was put on public disability (to which I did pay my fair share into but they don't see it that way) and now whine and dance like a little girl with a bladder issue because large (meaning lazy and over-eating and useless to them) lady with a very rare genetic disease is infringing on the government and costing them more. But mainstream would be a way out. By selling out. By censoring what I say and who the fuck I piss off. It would mean mobe would no longer exist. Mobiuschic would have to put her infinite disdain aside forever and put on her apron and join the Stepford Journalists and Comics...
There are those that would love nothing more from me. Trust me. But I would not be me any longer if I yielded to this way of thinking. Now I have to find a way to get the word out that I am moody and funny and worth a second glance and not at all something for my fans and friends to be ashamed of. I am NOT going to settle for being the moped in life, nor do I wish to be the Yugo!
If only I could afford advertising and such or have the mad-ass web skills to design a powerful page that gets noticed but alas, I cannot. So I rely on word of mouth and my one social network to do it for me. For now, I am in transition between a rock, a hard place and an old woman's crotch and neither is ringing my bells! I am in the process of moving and hopefully soon will get settled in and begin tormenting you all with my dark moods and matter of fact hysteria. So hang in there to all who are secretly enjoying this and shout out to all those who are proud that I am floating ideas and revolutions in their heads...I will be on more routinely soon...mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Obese, Prosperous Nation: Equals Thin Holidayz
okay. I said I was going to take some time off and catch up later and then the voice of "mobe reason" kicked me in the seat of my ass and told me it needed to be said. As IF! As if I could focus on my own problems and dilemmas when I see so much that is wrong with this world. Like Christmas in September. Only now it is another holiday that is buggin' me, Halloween, my favorite of them all.
Our children have been brainwashed by the media and fashion industries with big pull from high profile celebrities who can afford to choose to buy fake breasts, noses, asses and yes, even penises! In most all other countries they admire us for our ample figures. And over 75% of the American population is overweight with over half qualifying for that horrific title of obese, morbidly obese. I am morbidly obese and quite attractive. Sure I am disabled but in no way is my disability the weight or was is caused by such. Mine is mental (you all know that!) and a genetic disease and allergy to the sun, I am inhuman...no secret there! So why is it so fucking hard to find a costume for my favorite holiday without paying out the nose? Why is it my full-figured with a flat stomach daughter, who inherited my hips and ample bosom, cannot find a costume either? The adult costumes for her are too small. Yet, I look around the clothing stores and discount department stores and see the "plus-sized" department is less than ten percent of that of the "normal" sized departments. The same for men I might add. To make matters worse I have to go by a sea of candy and pretzels and googly-eyed pops to get to these places because they always put the "shameful" sizes to the back of the building trying to herd us perceived ugly people there so all the 25% normal people's eyes won't burn out of their sockets looking at us when they walk in!?!
I usually make our costumes but all my material and supplies for Halloween is scattered through two storage units and unattainable right now considering I am house hunting and in transition. And about that 25% that are thin and considered perfect...most all celebrities and high profile individuals fall in that category forcing you all to take a look in your own family tree, not for the dangling former slave or horse thief but for the obese member you live with or near. We all have them. Many of them, yet we cannot clothe these people and make them feel humane somehow? Here's a newsflash: OTHER COUNTRIES WISH THEY LOOKED LIKE US AND HAD AMPLE FIGURES DENOTING PROSPERITY AND WE HIDE IT LIKE IT IS SHAMEFUL! It is not and there are more factors contributing to obesity than poor eating habits and economics. Don't eat this and eat that and medication, disability creating sedentary lifestyles contribute as well as genetics as in my kid's case. She for the most part is thin but we need larger clothes so the buttons don't pop on my sixteen year old's blouses or the seat don't rip out from her ample bottom. She's gorgeous:
Our children have been brainwashed by the media and fashion industries with big pull from high profile celebrities who can afford to choose to buy fake breasts, noses, asses and yes, even penises! In most all other countries they admire us for our ample figures. And over 75% of the American population is overweight with over half qualifying for that horrific title of obese, morbidly obese. I am morbidly obese and quite attractive. Sure I am disabled but in no way is my disability the weight or was is caused by such. Mine is mental (you all know that!) and a genetic disease and allergy to the sun, I am inhuman...no secret there! So why is it so fucking hard to find a costume for my favorite holiday without paying out the nose? Why is it my full-figured with a flat stomach daughter, who inherited my hips and ample bosom, cannot find a costume either? The adult costumes for her are too small. Yet, I look around the clothing stores and discount department stores and see the "plus-sized" department is less than ten percent of that of the "normal" sized departments. The same for men I might add. To make matters worse I have to go by a sea of candy and pretzels and googly-eyed pops to get to these places because they always put the "shameful" sizes to the back of the building trying to herd us perceived ugly people there so all the 25% normal people's eyes won't burn out of their sockets looking at us when they walk in!?!
I usually make our costumes but all my material and supplies for Halloween is scattered through two storage units and unattainable right now considering I am house hunting and in transition. And about that 25% that are thin and considered perfect...most all celebrities and high profile individuals fall in that category forcing you all to take a look in your own family tree, not for the dangling former slave or horse thief but for the obese member you live with or near. We all have them. Many of them, yet we cannot clothe these people and make them feel humane somehow? Here's a newsflash: OTHER COUNTRIES WISH THEY LOOKED LIKE US AND HAD AMPLE FIGURES DENOTING PROSPERITY AND WE HIDE IT LIKE IT IS SHAMEFUL! It is not and there are more factors contributing to obesity than poor eating habits and economics. Don't eat this and eat that and medication, disability creating sedentary lifestyles contribute as well as genetics as in my kid's case. She for the most part is thin but we need larger clothes so the buttons don't pop on my sixteen year old's blouses or the seat don't rip out from her ample bottom. She's gorgeous:
...and now even wider in the hips like her momma and larger in the bosom! So why can't she have the right to dress up and have fun?
I don't understand this. And even more newsflash: IT IS A MEDICAL AND SCIENTIFIC FACT THAT LARGER PEOPLE LIVE LONGER THAN SKINNIER. IT IS A MEDICAL FACT THAT OBESE PEOPLE WHILE SUFFERING BREATHING DIFFICULTIES AND MOBILITY ISSUES SUFFER "LESS" HEART ATTACKS AND STROKES THAN ATHLETES AND THE "SUPPOSED" AVERAGE AMERICAN INDIVIDUAL WHO IS CONSIDERED "CORRECT" SIZE AND WEIGHT!
I am angry and think many of you should be too. We put too much emphasis and magazines, blogs, television and radio pushing that it is wrong to look like me:
...a happy remotely healthy 40yr old woman and we prefer our youth and peoples to look like this:
...a very hungry Keira Knightly (a good actress who needs 12 jackets in the summer to keep her bones warm) who is in dire need of a super-sized McDonald's diet!
I am sick of this. Yes Keira is a pretty woman and so is my daughter and your grandmother and wife and sister and father and best friend and brother. We should be teaching our children to be proud of who and what they are regardless of looks. We should be encouraging them to exercise and eat right; my child eats better and better quality food than most of you. But we should not put focus on looks. We are all individuals and this BIG MOMMA wants to buy her kid a fucking Halloween costume that isn't a barrel or whoopie cushion!
I want so little of things. I need so little of things. But as a mother I want this world to be a peaceful place and for it to be free of ignorant judgement. You ever notice when there is good news regarding larger people it is never announced as OUT LOUD as the bad news...that is discriminating if you ask me...What do you think? I am sure plenty of you can relate...let me know, shout out on your social feed or this blog's Facebook page:
...let your voice be heard, like the page, post it to your wall and tell the media and your family and friends you support healthy norms and big beautiful women and men and the prosperity you have earned! Don't forget to feed Charlie on your way out-he loves visitors!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The First Year of Disdain
the whole year. It has gone by so slow and yet, I have this sense of loss. Lobo and I have lost, so much. And now I must be stronger and larger than life and smarter and succeed as I find our independence in the upcoming year(s) ahead...
I wonder if I will make it alone. I have but a few short years to make it with her before she will fly away to parts known and unknown to be her own woman. She is wiser and has already tasted the hate and disdain that I have taught her so much about. Yes, some poisoning by me and mostly by her peers and family and social interactions with the likes of my most favorite of observations. She has even tasted adulthood in the love of another and a kiss but alas, he has fled finding her most distasteful to his future endeavors and not because she is not sweet enough, but because he knows he cannot fully embrace that which she is.
I will be moving in the next few weeks. I will be looking for a home and packing my life up again and I hesitate to do so. I am not sure of what I want anymore or what constitutes moving forward or where I want to be. I know I need to go and I need my independence but I feel a little apprehension and fearful of failure. I am losing my resolve but still trying to act as though I have a clue. I hope my future finds you all, and many more, still reading this and loving me in your own loyally disloyal ways and calling me friend. I even hope a few call me a few other choice words because that would signal that I have reached a most prized audience. the naysayers. Nothing would be better publicity than to have the ones who loathe you most follow you like a lamb to keep tabs on you. I have been stalked in life and love so why not in work. But for now...
...I will spend this evening thinking of nothing. Just enjoying the television and the radio and the cats and my child at dawn and my pillow by dawn's daylight...for now, have fun my loves and keep reaching up and out and never crawl back in and down.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
I wonder if I will make it alone. I have but a few short years to make it with her before she will fly away to parts known and unknown to be her own woman. She is wiser and has already tasted the hate and disdain that I have taught her so much about. Yes, some poisoning by me and mostly by her peers and family and social interactions with the likes of my most favorite of observations. She has even tasted adulthood in the love of another and a kiss but alas, he has fled finding her most distasteful to his future endeavors and not because she is not sweet enough, but because he knows he cannot fully embrace that which she is.
I will be moving in the next few weeks. I will be looking for a home and packing my life up again and I hesitate to do so. I am not sure of what I want anymore or what constitutes moving forward or where I want to be. I know I need to go and I need my independence but I feel a little apprehension and fearful of failure. I am losing my resolve but still trying to act as though I have a clue. I hope my future finds you all, and many more, still reading this and loving me in your own loyally disloyal ways and calling me friend. I even hope a few call me a few other choice words because that would signal that I have reached a most prized audience. the naysayers. Nothing would be better publicity than to have the ones who loathe you most follow you like a lamb to keep tabs on you. I have been stalked in life and love so why not in work. But for now...
...I will spend this evening thinking of nothing. Just enjoying the television and the radio and the cats and my child at dawn and my pillow by dawn's daylight...for now, have fun my loves and keep reaching up and out and never crawl back in and down.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Mocking Bird
Mocking Bird
The voice of irresistibility shall never refrain
from the bird of youth with an adult's brain
As a humming sweet echo reverbates on high
so too, all little mocking birds take to the sky
Laugh, little one and laugh again loud
mocking walkers and passersby head to the clouds
How silly they looks when they reach out to grasp
at my delicate wings tinged in gold colored flash
See me, hear me, want me and need me, but can't catch me or trap me
only imagine they feel me
The rapture's awareness in a tormented hell
when undeniably, inexplicably you didn't know too well
I blend into invisibility with my own unspecialness
hide and seek are my favorite, I confess, I guess.
Sitting atop highest branches at home in my roost
watching poor little fools search blindly my ego boosts
For my camouflage is perfect and confuses the heart
sending you on a treasure hunt by doing my part
Can't catch me, can't see but you hear me indeed and want me, need me
only to imagine you're with me
As the voice of irresistible dreams squawking madly in your head
and you envision a sweet beautiful bird lying in your bed
But your pulse quickens soon and your palms sweat
as you wake up alone and so full of regret
Asking "Why, little bird, do you mock me," and
"Must your sound be so sweet?" and...
I am the song sparrow hiding full of unabashed deniance
I mock and fly and tease in ignorant defiance
Look for me, listen intently, search until you can't find, as I fly
in sweetest songs all around and behind
23aug2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
The voice of irresistibility shall never refrain
from the bird of youth with an adult's brain
As a humming sweet echo reverbates on high
so too, all little mocking birds take to the sky
Laugh, little one and laugh again loud
mocking walkers and passersby head to the clouds
How silly they looks when they reach out to grasp
at my delicate wings tinged in gold colored flash
See me, hear me, want me and need me, but can't catch me or trap me
only imagine they feel me
The rapture's awareness in a tormented hell
when undeniably, inexplicably you didn't know too well
I blend into invisibility with my own unspecialness
hide and seek are my favorite, I confess, I guess.
Sitting atop highest branches at home in my roost
watching poor little fools search blindly my ego boosts
For my camouflage is perfect and confuses the heart
sending you on a treasure hunt by doing my part
Can't catch me, can't see but you hear me indeed and want me, need me
only to imagine you're with me
As the voice of irresistible dreams squawking madly in your head
and you envision a sweet beautiful bird lying in your bed
But your pulse quickens soon and your palms sweat
as you wake up alone and so full of regret
Asking "Why, little bird, do you mock me," and
"Must your sound be so sweet?" and...
I am the song sparrow hiding full of unabashed deniance
I mock and fly and tease in ignorant defiance
Look for me, listen intently, search until you can't find, as I fly
in sweetest songs all around and behind
23aug2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
An Ode
Ode to a man all outta breathe
If he keeps it "up" at this pace,
he's sure to face death
But of course deep down inside
he knows all not amiss
Because those breatheless interludes
started with a kiss
and...once their lips met like a cosmic explosion
and that feeling built up as a wave on the ocean
and the heart's quickened pace beat on faster in time
Passion! Oh so sweet, was their only crime
But just as the sea rolls and the universe thrashes,
waves batter loudly on rocks as they crash.....yes!
It was he who faced peril...
...in the smile on her lips
And, knowingly, only to her (wink)
the fatality of her hips...
5june 2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Ode to a man all outta breathe
If he keeps it "up" at this pace,
he's sure to face death
But of course deep down inside
he knows all not amiss
Because those breatheless interludes
started with a kiss
and...once their lips met like a cosmic explosion
and that feeling built up as a wave on the ocean
and the heart's quickened pace beat on faster in time
Passion! Oh so sweet, was their only crime
But just as the sea rolls and the universe thrashes,
waves batter loudly on rocks as they crash.....yes!
It was he who faced peril...
...in the smile on her lips
And, knowingly, only to her (wink)
the fatality of her hips...
5june 2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Not Long For Wanting
and autumn breeze has blown in on windy northern air. I smell smoke and gourds and leaves burning there. I must gather what is needed and head for the hills for whom a bell tolls it's a battle of wills. I reflect today on the past year.
I have loved and lost and loved and lost and loved again. Only the love is still devoted to thine that not love me back. You would think all this talk of love would be saved for February's pages but here, it is needed to convey what has come to pass. I miss them. I miss them all and if you would take a piece of each's clay and fashion a whole other being you would have quite a partner to wander through life with. Only we don't do that. We were made in others images with none of us containing the whole material to make it through.
Somewhere there is another like me but with temperance and less truth and more ambition. Somewhere there is another for you too. Whatever you bring has been split into two. We look for the wrong things in mates. I know this now. We want to marry ourselves considering ourselves perfect by design and excusing it as perfect design and we should have been in search of what was missing. That I think now is key. And to find someone out there exactly like me is preposterous indeed.
I need to look for one that is shy when I am proud and is forceful when I am weak and is handsome when I am sick but homely when I am bejeweled. Only now my searching days are short and I sell myself thus. Whatever will I do?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
I have loved and lost and loved and lost and loved again. Only the love is still devoted to thine that not love me back. You would think all this talk of love would be saved for February's pages but here, it is needed to convey what has come to pass. I miss them. I miss them all and if you would take a piece of each's clay and fashion a whole other being you would have quite a partner to wander through life with. Only we don't do that. We were made in others images with none of us containing the whole material to make it through.
Somewhere there is another like me but with temperance and less truth and more ambition. Somewhere there is another for you too. Whatever you bring has been split into two. We look for the wrong things in mates. I know this now. We want to marry ourselves considering ourselves perfect by design and excusing it as perfect design and we should have been in search of what was missing. That I think now is key. And to find someone out there exactly like me is preposterous indeed.
I need to look for one that is shy when I am proud and is forceful when I am weak and is handsome when I am sick but homely when I am bejeweled. Only now my searching days are short and I sell myself thus. Whatever will I do?~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
The Garden Mother
the Garden Mother
somehow I shall wander and seem to find
the solace once was there and now left behind
the door it was closed and then locked too tight
and still he crept silently in late at night
bristly, stolen kisses he took from a she
the tears in the shadows he refused to see
and yet I arrived so safe and secure
I'm alive and at peace salvation my cure
now who was this madman, a thief you could say
a monster by nightfall, an angel by day
torturous years passing by too damn slow
not allowing a little flower to thrive or to grow
she'll have her day soon in the warmth of the sun
when all the rains wash clean the dirt that was done
from roots will take hold as time seems to fly
her freedom is blissful as she takes in a sigh
somehow I shall wander and seem to find
the solace once was there and now left behind
the door it was closed and then locked too tight
and still he crept silently in late at night
bristly, stolen kisses he took from a she
the tears in the shadows he refused to see
and yet I arrived so safe and secure
I'm alive and at peace salvation my cure
now who was this madman, a thief you could say
a monster by nightfall, an angel by day
torturous years passing by too damn slow
not allowing a little flower to thrive or to grow
she'll have her day soon in the warmth of the sun
when all the rains wash clean the dirt that was done
from roots will take hold as time seems to fly
her freedom is blissful as she takes in a sigh
onward through time a journey on through
as snow, rain and sunshine blow leaves two by two
today is a new one she's as busy as can be
season's hot weather and glorious is she
to be seen is to share all the charms she displays
tally the moon's left and in winds for to sway
a simple existence of joy to be held
and all of the color will blend and will meld
alone it's quite pretty, but a bunch are more sweet
for there are others like her in the fields yet to meet
there are no more doors now, no locks and no cells
pretty whites and bright yellows and shiny blue bells
I stay where I found the richest of soil
and ferment my scent into purest of oil
remembering a time so to never forget
the hate and the horror and injustice and neglect
and always a little wary and cautious "sweet fleur"
holding my face up high, to the ends endure
onward through time on a journey most over
too much to do here-and no time for clover
pondering the day to see my fruit yield
preparing myself gathering protections to wield
for down deep inside knows the monster will come
returning to the same spot repeating the sum
the hopes to be safe are now clouded in wait
becoming the predator with traps that will bait
and the days are getting fewer so I reflect all mishap
resembling not the pretty "fleur" but now Venus' flytrap
change will do good as I strengthen anew
offspring is safe playing and thirsty for dew
content to just sit by as still a sentry might
not sleeping at dawn or day and not night
I am proud for what I've done, who I am and all such
and ready for the end knowing I'll miss them so much
my time in this garden will be over 'fore long
and my wonderful legacy will remember me strong
onward I see now the journey's complete
the clouds will be watching as the next crops succeed.
15feb2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
The End of One's Love
it's a serious game we play when bandying about the word "love" and abandoning it just as fast. We raise our children to have the same concepts as us but there are times when our children go rogue and decipher its meaning for themselves. It's friday night now and I been waiting to find just the right words to convey "love" and to relate an incident from earlier this week....
My feeble attempts to give my daughter, Lobo, a true definition of the word have escaped me. I know what I believe it to be and what it can manifest as but have yet to find that everlasting feeling of "Ahhhh" that comes from the picturesque sense of what we have all been brainwashed to believe love is. This week my daughter was glorified and then beat down and it was private and quiet and cruel. She is still suffering at the hands of someone's love and what they figured it was. However, love is not temporary. That much she and I know. How? Because I would LIVE for her, not just die or kill and she knows this. She knows I am ready to meet the makers of we, and I only stay because she beckons me so. Loving her means doing things I wouldn't normally or "want to" do but I do them because they benefit her, her alone. Love makes you do those things.
Only the young man she loves tells her his "love" is fading. He doesn't love her or think he will continue to do so in the future after telling her for almost four years he does and he wants to marry her. They kissed, the first time for both this summer, and now, he sees pretty things everywhere and his hormones have gone awry and he thinks he doesn't love her anymore. What did she do you ask? She got grounded. She was misbehaved and got herself punished and now faces certain double jeopardy because his love was not strong enough to endure a month more than the already four previous years to his betrothed. His love didn't cut the mustard. We got kicked to the curb. Me as his second mother and she as his partner, and it is sad.
I love this boy as my own son. And I am angry. Not at him but at the world in which our children grow up where they cannot count on love or friendship. He wants that much at least. But how can I teach her to put up with watching him dote on another and love another and share pet names with another and canoodle with another when he was her whole world and she is? How do you just be a friend after giving your heart to someone who stomps on it and then still wants you around to see them happy and you waste away and silently, shamefully grieve alone? I think it is an unfair request of people to expect that things will end so easily and without guilt for the person who fell short of knowing what love actually is.
Love is knowing your partner, child, parents, siblings, etc...are imperfect and continuing to support them and do things that matter to them because of it. Love is resisting the urge to poke fun of and publicly shame and humiliate the person you profess it for. Love is seeing another possible love interest and speculating they may have more "benefits" to you but staying committed to the one you are with because of the duration and the things you have shared. Love is doing the things you may not want to because that self sacrifice meant more to you than the meaningless shit you wanted to. A favor is love, a look, a devotion that NEVER fades. I left her father and still love that man. I loved her more and needed to protect her and gave up my relationship for her, that is love. Hell, I left many a man/woman/family member for her. I want for her to have a man,woman or partner who will love her that much that they put HER first. Every person deserves that...but, unfortunately we don't get that. We get the other people.
Even more difficult to accept is that I brought her into this world not knowing but now knowing that it will be hard for someone to accept her for who and what she is. He did...until this past Tuesday when he decided he didn't anymore. I hurt so much to see her hurting and doubting herself. Her decision to remain chaste is one every mother should be proud of. Only now she is still trying to come to terms with being "unloved" by him and it will take time and a mother's love to see her through. And her mother herself is even disbelieving in the human races capabilities of being able to understand what love really is and the sacrifices that go hand in hand with the good memories and the devotion and unending aspects of it. For now I hold her in my heart and pray the fates will be kind and not force that pain on her as I have tried to keep my jaded viewpoints away from her and to allow her to form her own perception. Let's hope...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
My feeble attempts to give my daughter, Lobo, a true definition of the word have escaped me. I know what I believe it to be and what it can manifest as but have yet to find that everlasting feeling of "Ahhhh" that comes from the picturesque sense of what we have all been brainwashed to believe love is. This week my daughter was glorified and then beat down and it was private and quiet and cruel. She is still suffering at the hands of someone's love and what they figured it was. However, love is not temporary. That much she and I know. How? Because I would LIVE for her, not just die or kill and she knows this. She knows I am ready to meet the makers of we, and I only stay because she beckons me so. Loving her means doing things I wouldn't normally or "want to" do but I do them because they benefit her, her alone. Love makes you do those things.
Only the young man she loves tells her his "love" is fading. He doesn't love her or think he will continue to do so in the future after telling her for almost four years he does and he wants to marry her. They kissed, the first time for both this summer, and now, he sees pretty things everywhere and his hormones have gone awry and he thinks he doesn't love her anymore. What did she do you ask? She got grounded. She was misbehaved and got herself punished and now faces certain double jeopardy because his love was not strong enough to endure a month more than the already four previous years to his betrothed. His love didn't cut the mustard. We got kicked to the curb. Me as his second mother and she as his partner, and it is sad.
I love this boy as my own son. And I am angry. Not at him but at the world in which our children grow up where they cannot count on love or friendship. He wants that much at least. But how can I teach her to put up with watching him dote on another and love another and share pet names with another and canoodle with another when he was her whole world and she is? How do you just be a friend after giving your heart to someone who stomps on it and then still wants you around to see them happy and you waste away and silently, shamefully grieve alone? I think it is an unfair request of people to expect that things will end so easily and without guilt for the person who fell short of knowing what love actually is.
Love is knowing your partner, child, parents, siblings, etc...are imperfect and continuing to support them and do things that matter to them because of it. Love is resisting the urge to poke fun of and publicly shame and humiliate the person you profess it for. Love is seeing another possible love interest and speculating they may have more "benefits" to you but staying committed to the one you are with because of the duration and the things you have shared. Love is doing the things you may not want to because that self sacrifice meant more to you than the meaningless shit you wanted to. A favor is love, a look, a devotion that NEVER fades. I left her father and still love that man. I loved her more and needed to protect her and gave up my relationship for her, that is love. Hell, I left many a man/woman/family member for her. I want for her to have a man,woman or partner who will love her that much that they put HER first. Every person deserves that...but, unfortunately we don't get that. We get the other people.
Even more difficult to accept is that I brought her into this world not knowing but now knowing that it will be hard for someone to accept her for who and what she is. He did...until this past Tuesday when he decided he didn't anymore. I hurt so much to see her hurting and doubting herself. Her decision to remain chaste is one every mother should be proud of. Only now she is still trying to come to terms with being "unloved" by him and it will take time and a mother's love to see her through. And her mother herself is even disbelieving in the human races capabilities of being able to understand what love really is and the sacrifices that go hand in hand with the good memories and the devotion and unending aspects of it. For now I hold her in my heart and pray the fates will be kind and not force that pain on her as I have tried to keep my jaded viewpoints away from her and to allow her to form her own perception. Let's hope...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Slavery
this was an observation from some great time ago. It actually was quite profound and it still makes sense to me today. I am not one to say any one gender, race, religion, etc. is better than another but in this instance, I was so full of anguish and anger for the opposite of sex. It is valid because it has been validated even if you don't agree with the sentiment...
Masculine is a deceptive gender as all men crave to suck. It is the son who suckles his mother's teet far too long, and in his own twisted depravity he imprisons her as his slave. Men have raped and pillages and waged wars with blatant disregard for the blood, human life. If the gods created man in their own image, then it must be said we follow a tempestuous, twisted, mean-spirited, stubborn brat! Who here has self esteem issues, cock issues, keeping up with the Jones'-er-Johnson's issues. It is he that aspires to be the father, but it is us who are the many sons' mothers. Blasphemy! Yes, but it is true. If you give a woman something of her own she will not wander or aspire to seize what does not belong to her. She is calm and rational and tame and tolerant. She may wander and share and she will be fierce and protective of hers and her own, yet, our sons continue to mock us and enslave us and control us and occupy our bodies and mind. What for? To what end? Are we all blinded by forced motherhood? Can we not see that the chains that exist are as easy to cut as flesh? As we are lorded over by them, we are angry when forced to come to every whim. I grown weary of the place of forced station. Demands are now met with indifference and the fueling of gains. Despite my tired self I am still dignified enough to protect my own. Why else would we be concerned with the issues of another? We love the same qualities in men that validate or emulate our own. We seek out the strengths in man that we know we have and are. For the sighted, all would agree that though the faces may not be so, the Mr. Universe's options as a suitor far outweigh those of the Herman's and Harold's. Men, however, seek out what they perceive are our weakest links. Preferring the smaller, simpler versions of the feminine self always containing the more pronounced/favorable reproductive organs, allows them to breed us into submission, thus perpetuating the weaker specimens going forward and strengthening their delusional dominance over all. Fortunately, nature corrects all in due time. But let us not take this last remark as an excuse to idly sit and masticate and prostitute ourselves for their unjust cause.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Masculine is a deceptive gender as all men crave to suck. It is the son who suckles his mother's teet far too long, and in his own twisted depravity he imprisons her as his slave. Men have raped and pillages and waged wars with blatant disregard for the blood, human life. If the gods created man in their own image, then it must be said we follow a tempestuous, twisted, mean-spirited, stubborn brat! Who here has self esteem issues, cock issues, keeping up with the Jones'-er-Johnson's issues. It is he that aspires to be the father, but it is us who are the many sons' mothers. Blasphemy! Yes, but it is true. If you give a woman something of her own she will not wander or aspire to seize what does not belong to her. She is calm and rational and tame and tolerant. She may wander and share and she will be fierce and protective of hers and her own, yet, our sons continue to mock us and enslave us and control us and occupy our bodies and mind. What for? To what end? Are we all blinded by forced motherhood? Can we not see that the chains that exist are as easy to cut as flesh? As we are lorded over by them, we are angry when forced to come to every whim. I grown weary of the place of forced station. Demands are now met with indifference and the fueling of gains. Despite my tired self I am still dignified enough to protect my own. Why else would we be concerned with the issues of another? We love the same qualities in men that validate or emulate our own. We seek out the strengths in man that we know we have and are. For the sighted, all would agree that though the faces may not be so, the Mr. Universe's options as a suitor far outweigh those of the Herman's and Harold's. Men, however, seek out what they perceive are our weakest links. Preferring the smaller, simpler versions of the feminine self always containing the more pronounced/favorable reproductive organs, allows them to breed us into submission, thus perpetuating the weaker specimens going forward and strengthening their delusional dominance over all. Fortunately, nature corrects all in due time. But let us not take this last remark as an excuse to idly sit and masticate and prostitute ourselves for their unjust cause.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
(Insert Title)
the sanctity of a cold dark cave is the place I go when the hunger craves
and they drive me to do the strangest things to me
by harbour's light upon the highest cliff in the darkest night crashing
surfs that rift and a hole inside the earth's black flesh
a creature so tortured can hear far and wide and smell the sweet blood
that is pumping inside as the drums beat it forth
beckoning and beguiling the reckoning will come
drum away drum away drum away hum
it will crawl, claw and gouge out the blackest of soil yearning its quench
all of its blood hungry calls
slinking and gnashing its teeth long and sharp to search out the smallest
and grandest of prey
unseen and unheard will be what it is and before you can scream
the red rain will flow
beckoning and bewilderment the beast will come
drum away drum away drum away hum
the poor thing is floating on an ebony dream and start around roll and flash
the final minute's strobe
a vision in the eyes of tremendous anguish as the last picture of life
ebbs into the waiting mouth of evil
fighting for another breath while confusion allows the prayer of endings and
total empty blackness fills the senses
beckoning and beknownst the death man will come
drum away drum away drum away hum
18feb2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
and they drive me to do the strangest things to me
by harbour's light upon the highest cliff in the darkest night crashing
surfs that rift and a hole inside the earth's black flesh
a creature so tortured can hear far and wide and smell the sweet blood
that is pumping inside as the drums beat it forth
beckoning and beguiling the reckoning will come
drum away drum away drum away hum
it will crawl, claw and gouge out the blackest of soil yearning its quench
all of its blood hungry calls
slinking and gnashing its teeth long and sharp to search out the smallest
and grandest of prey
unseen and unheard will be what it is and before you can scream
the red rain will flow
beckoning and bewilderment the beast will come
drum away drum away drum away hum
the poor thing is floating on an ebony dream and start around roll and flash
the final minute's strobe
a vision in the eyes of tremendous anguish as the last picture of life
ebbs into the waiting mouth of evil
fighting for another breath while confusion allows the prayer of endings and
total empty blackness fills the senses
beckoning and beknownst the death man will come
drum away drum away drum away hum
18feb2008
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Home
Home
I think I'm tired from thinking they say, so I just lay down
My mouth has run dry, there's no moisture around
Tingling fingers and toes signal the time to go to sleep
So I can dream sweet loving whispers of you
to fall into slumber so deep I could drown
falling lids, falling eyes, mind shutting down
no visions of any kind, no thoughts left to roam
the darkness it calls me back to my first home
The ache between my eyes feels like I've been shot
And the ringing in my ears play one melancholy note
The doldrums and druidic manner beckons me on
To my drearily restless sleep
to fall into slumber so deep I could drown
falling lids, falling eyes, mind shutting down
no visions of any kind, no thoughts left to roam
the darkness it calls me back to my first home
I borrowed your shirt today and it smells of you
Your cologne and scent tantalizes and it smells of you
I find I can't help myself, that no matter how I try
No matter if I am tired and here is where I lie
I need to close mine eyes and just not dream at all
to fall into slumber so deep I could drown
falling lids, falling eyes, mind shutting down
no visions of any kind, no thoughts left to roam
the darkness, I hear it, I'm going back home
9nov2007
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
I think I'm tired from thinking they say, so I just lay down
My mouth has run dry, there's no moisture around
Tingling fingers and toes signal the time to go to sleep
So I can dream sweet loving whispers of you
to fall into slumber so deep I could drown
falling lids, falling eyes, mind shutting down
no visions of any kind, no thoughts left to roam
the darkness it calls me back to my first home
The ache between my eyes feels like I've been shot
And the ringing in my ears play one melancholy note
The doldrums and druidic manner beckons me on
To my drearily restless sleep
to fall into slumber so deep I could drown
falling lids, falling eyes, mind shutting down
no visions of any kind, no thoughts left to roam
the darkness it calls me back to my first home
I borrowed your shirt today and it smells of you
Your cologne and scent tantalizes and it smells of you
I find I can't help myself, that no matter how I try
No matter if I am tired and here is where I lie
I need to close mine eyes and just not dream at all
to fall into slumber so deep I could drown
falling lids, falling eyes, mind shutting down
no visions of any kind, no thoughts left to roam
the darkness, I hear it, I'm going back home
9nov2007
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Untitled, Again
just a small passage written so very long ago. Memory lane for me in grand and when I see what my mind was filled with it is no wonder my life has turned out this way. I scream of fire and pain and of hurt and loss from a place of someone who knows all too well I am afraid...
There is none closer for me to crave. Books are my friends and teachers. The sky is my father and the ground my mother. I'd give up a million tears to bathe in, for naught the violence that upholds. Today is my birth day. And tomorrow too. I was born and reborn with each dawn's light and I shall die a trillion deaths by the very same sunsets. Walking through familiar meadows and breathing in the cold airy kisses chills my lungs and bones. A fire keeps me warm welling up from within my very own pit and washing over me like baby memories. Life is passion and poetry, pain and health, sickness and cures, black and white. It burns by the light of stars and cools on the shade of trees. I like to climb these trees, to the top, to smile brightly at my tall, vast father. I feel so strong as I climb, almost as if I want to climb everything I see. But that want is not mine. My needs are always changing. I burst forth every dawn from my cocoon to evolve and so too do my wants, my needs. Today is half over so I mourn ahead my own death bearing down on me like a wild stallion. I shall feast today. Celebrations all around. Drink and dine for by our closest star's setting it will be time for me to give kisses goodbye. Tomorrow I am no more. Like the phoenix rising from its own ashes, I too shall rise anew, different, enlightened creature to a whole new universe. It is waiting for me.
8nov2007
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
There is none closer for me to crave. Books are my friends and teachers. The sky is my father and the ground my mother. I'd give up a million tears to bathe in, for naught the violence that upholds. Today is my birth day. And tomorrow too. I was born and reborn with each dawn's light and I shall die a trillion deaths by the very same sunsets. Walking through familiar meadows and breathing in the cold airy kisses chills my lungs and bones. A fire keeps me warm welling up from within my very own pit and washing over me like baby memories. Life is passion and poetry, pain and health, sickness and cures, black and white. It burns by the light of stars and cools on the shade of trees. I like to climb these trees, to the top, to smile brightly at my tall, vast father. I feel so strong as I climb, almost as if I want to climb everything I see. But that want is not mine. My needs are always changing. I burst forth every dawn from my cocoon to evolve and so too do my wants, my needs. Today is half over so I mourn ahead my own death bearing down on me like a wild stallion. I shall feast today. Celebrations all around. Drink and dine for by our closest star's setting it will be time for me to give kisses goodbye. Tomorrow I am no more. Like the phoenix rising from its own ashes, I too shall rise anew, different, enlightened creature to a whole new universe. It is waiting for me.
8nov2007
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
We Were
We Were
Provocative, perceptive, persuasion has always astounded us all
Pushing and shoving a pecking order, contemplating human emotion and calculating it's next move
Never-do-wells minding no ones apparent business which was filled with delusions to begin with
Like waves cresting on the sea, the clouds roll through skies above us counting out days gone by, yet to be
Misery has never ever existed yet, for at this point, it wouldn't know where to harness its power from
Semi-hard anguish the only indicative of a masculine society raging war within itself
How sick and nauseating with the crimes turning our stomaches just rolling and boiling forth
Pleading with our innards to obey our will, but we fully know to purge is to absolve
The release and stench waters our eyes and the acrid smell burns our olfactory senses
We are thankful for that first taste of water reminding us of the sweetness of youth
Renewed fervor drive us on to the next scene
Life's evil emergence propels our vehicles as we run rampant searching for the next intersection
Even though the lights warn us, we proceed on in our ignorance crunching and crashing
How astonishing is the dim recesses allowing us the perfect excuses to our delusions
So we continue to commit harmful acts of unkindness to ourselves and one another and excusing such
As if we had the right. As if we had the right to defile our temples, we are on load nothing more
Why does a mother shun her child? What transgressions has the little soul?
Can we argue that the soul was corrupt and and she sensed it the way a mother cat senses its
Sickly newborn to cull the herd? If she is wrong or right it doesn't matter. We all exact
Our own justice. We will judge, we will persecute, we will condemn and, oh yes, we will hang
Necks broken by the tethers we put on ourselves and by the societies we elect
Exhaustion has taken its toll as we sit to reflect
Up and down. side by side.Vehicles propelled by mother nature's will or waters of unsurety
Some vessels crash on the rocks and someone's lost--never to be found. Life is the continuity of the water
Not the continuity of an individual fish, but a school, a flock, a gaggle or herd
Life is all things that have ever existed and all things that have yet to be existed
Existence is the beginning and the end and life is the journey. The good times we look forward to
We grieve the bad. Some will be all consumed by the flames and quenched by the
Snuffing out of our light. By day break there will only be the memories and the distant ripples
That wash ashore thousands of miles away in their echoes to the new forces
What we were, what we once did and how we once hated and how we once loved
Oh how we loved, we rejoiced, we sang, we danced, we supped, we cried, we were
22july2007
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Provocative, perceptive, persuasion has always astounded us all
Pushing and shoving a pecking order, contemplating human emotion and calculating it's next move
Never-do-wells minding no ones apparent business which was filled with delusions to begin with
Like waves cresting on the sea, the clouds roll through skies above us counting out days gone by, yet to be
Misery has never ever existed yet, for at this point, it wouldn't know where to harness its power from
Semi-hard anguish the only indicative of a masculine society raging war within itself
How sick and nauseating with the crimes turning our stomaches just rolling and boiling forth
Pleading with our innards to obey our will, but we fully know to purge is to absolve
The release and stench waters our eyes and the acrid smell burns our olfactory senses
We are thankful for that first taste of water reminding us of the sweetness of youth
Renewed fervor drive us on to the next scene
Life's evil emergence propels our vehicles as we run rampant searching for the next intersection
Even though the lights warn us, we proceed on in our ignorance crunching and crashing
How astonishing is the dim recesses allowing us the perfect excuses to our delusions
So we continue to commit harmful acts of unkindness to ourselves and one another and excusing such
As if we had the right. As if we had the right to defile our temples, we are on load nothing more
Why does a mother shun her child? What transgressions has the little soul?
Can we argue that the soul was corrupt and and she sensed it the way a mother cat senses its
Sickly newborn to cull the herd? If she is wrong or right it doesn't matter. We all exact
Our own justice. We will judge, we will persecute, we will condemn and, oh yes, we will hang
Necks broken by the tethers we put on ourselves and by the societies we elect
Exhaustion has taken its toll as we sit to reflect
Up and down. side by side.Vehicles propelled by mother nature's will or waters of unsurety
Some vessels crash on the rocks and someone's lost--never to be found. Life is the continuity of the water
Not the continuity of an individual fish, but a school, a flock, a gaggle or herd
Life is all things that have ever existed and all things that have yet to be existed
Existence is the beginning and the end and life is the journey. The good times we look forward to
We grieve the bad. Some will be all consumed by the flames and quenched by the
Snuffing out of our light. By day break there will only be the memories and the distant ripples
That wash ashore thousands of miles away in their echoes to the new forces
What we were, what we once did and how we once hated and how we once loved
Oh how we loved, we rejoiced, we sang, we danced, we supped, we cried, we were
22july2007
~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Friends
the friendship I give is there always inside of me long after their shadows have obliterated into the morning sun. I have been called upon to let alone a friend who is dear and also been called upon to take arms with those and against those I love. Friendship is always at the core struggle within me as to when is it enough to walk away and say "I'm done."
We meet people everyday who share our values and ideals. I meet them in person and online and via telephone or through a mutual friend. A smile can warm the coldest of hearts but a friend knows how to get them to see it. A friend is the person you can tell what you feel about your man and know it will stay there. That same friend can tell you about his wife or her brother or maybe the dog and you will listen and comfort and hold and not make fun of them for being weak. Friends know we ALL are weak to different degrees. Even the Wamphyrii are weak and have their momos in the sun when they wish they hadn't stayed that extra hour at the pier and now race the traffic and daylight to get home before the organ failure sets in, knowing they will have to unload the car and such in the "inclement" weather. I miss those friends I haven't had the opportunity to see or speak to in years and wonder if they are afraid to break the ice as I am. I feel when they ail and lament, when their families suffer.
I don't measure the worth of a friend by what they do. I measure them but what they don't and how they look at themselves. Some of my friends are very insecure and I didn't plan it that way, but I rather think it reflects my past and my wanting to "give back" or dwell in it. I feel more able and alive in my state than I did before I was ill and look at them with arms outstretched and want to see their eyes when they open and take in the feeling that washes over you when you accept yourself first.
One of my exes used to tell me how he felt that women and men cannot be friends because there will always be that undercurrent of sexual energy and either one or both will eventually get hurt even if it means they might have casual sex. I used to get so mad at him for that but now, I am older and see the wisdom in it, though I would never tell him. I really don't think he knows he was wise in that instance anyways as he was angry because I had a male friend who was kind and expressed affection for me in what I thought at the time was brotherly love.
Men and women see what their eyes tell them, for those of us with sight. We pick our friends by what we like and what we don't and what attracts us, yeah...I said it, by attraction. No one wants to hang out with a "mook" or a slob or a douchebag...and we all have different ideas of what those are. We believe what we see first and what we hear second, then what we smell and touch. It is how we are wired, and we rely so much on it that when we lose "sight" of things, our whole world falls to shit because we thought sight was the most important aspect. Thinking is lost on us.
It may surprise you to know most of my friends are considered freaks like myself. I gravitate to what I know and by societal standards we all are part of that larger group of "people who aren't on television and who haven't succeeded but just are average motherfuckers that the rest of you hate to admit you belong to also" persons who are really just about as unique as a fucking rock. All rocks are unique. And if I liked the same rocks as you then we would all be fighting. I just don't get why we fight at all and why people are so cruel. Yes, we can tell a fat person from a thin one and a white from a brown one and an Asian from a European. But when we look closer the bloodlines are muddied and all our friends are brothers and sisters to us all. No one is better than another. It is a ruse. By now the genetics is so spanned that you will find mixed blood in most all peoples on this planet. All of us have our dirty little secrets...I just share mine more openly. I have no need to take them with me when I go and where I go and am NOT ashamed for what has happened in my life, beyond what I have control over.
Now I am here. Alone in the dark with multitudes of friends scattered in their daily dramas from Russia to South America and the Pacific to the Atlantic. We all have family, whether we love them all or not, and we all have duties. My lazy attitude is not to hurt or disarm the emotional set-up. I live and let live and miss them all. I make new ones faster than I lose some and feel a pang of regret for the know of when I leave this place I will have finally made a mark. A year has come to a close...in eleven days. A year ago I thought I wouldn't have made it this far. But I have and need to do it again and again until there are no more...for now, just be my friend as long as I am...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
We meet people everyday who share our values and ideals. I meet them in person and online and via telephone or through a mutual friend. A smile can warm the coldest of hearts but a friend knows how to get them to see it. A friend is the person you can tell what you feel about your man and know it will stay there. That same friend can tell you about his wife or her brother or maybe the dog and you will listen and comfort and hold and not make fun of them for being weak. Friends know we ALL are weak to different degrees. Even the Wamphyrii are weak and have their momos in the sun when they wish they hadn't stayed that extra hour at the pier and now race the traffic and daylight to get home before the organ failure sets in, knowing they will have to unload the car and such in the "inclement" weather. I miss those friends I haven't had the opportunity to see or speak to in years and wonder if they are afraid to break the ice as I am. I feel when they ail and lament, when their families suffer.
I don't measure the worth of a friend by what they do. I measure them but what they don't and how they look at themselves. Some of my friends are very insecure and I didn't plan it that way, but I rather think it reflects my past and my wanting to "give back" or dwell in it. I feel more able and alive in my state than I did before I was ill and look at them with arms outstretched and want to see their eyes when they open and take in the feeling that washes over you when you accept yourself first.
One of my exes used to tell me how he felt that women and men cannot be friends because there will always be that undercurrent of sexual energy and either one or both will eventually get hurt even if it means they might have casual sex. I used to get so mad at him for that but now, I am older and see the wisdom in it, though I would never tell him. I really don't think he knows he was wise in that instance anyways as he was angry because I had a male friend who was kind and expressed affection for me in what I thought at the time was brotherly love.
Men and women see what their eyes tell them, for those of us with sight. We pick our friends by what we like and what we don't and what attracts us, yeah...I said it, by attraction. No one wants to hang out with a "mook" or a slob or a douchebag...and we all have different ideas of what those are. We believe what we see first and what we hear second, then what we smell and touch. It is how we are wired, and we rely so much on it that when we lose "sight" of things, our whole world falls to shit because we thought sight was the most important aspect. Thinking is lost on us.
It may surprise you to know most of my friends are considered freaks like myself. I gravitate to what I know and by societal standards we all are part of that larger group of "people who aren't on television and who haven't succeeded but just are average motherfuckers that the rest of you hate to admit you belong to also" persons who are really just about as unique as a fucking rock. All rocks are unique. And if I liked the same rocks as you then we would all be fighting. I just don't get why we fight at all and why people are so cruel. Yes, we can tell a fat person from a thin one and a white from a brown one and an Asian from a European. But when we look closer the bloodlines are muddied and all our friends are brothers and sisters to us all. No one is better than another. It is a ruse. By now the genetics is so spanned that you will find mixed blood in most all peoples on this planet. All of us have our dirty little secrets...I just share mine more openly. I have no need to take them with me when I go and where I go and am NOT ashamed for what has happened in my life, beyond what I have control over.
Now I am here. Alone in the dark with multitudes of friends scattered in their daily dramas from Russia to South America and the Pacific to the Atlantic. We all have family, whether we love them all or not, and we all have duties. My lazy attitude is not to hurt or disarm the emotional set-up. I live and let live and miss them all. I make new ones faster than I lose some and feel a pang of regret for the know of when I leave this place I will have finally made a mark. A year has come to a close...in eleven days. A year ago I thought I wouldn't have made it this far. But I have and need to do it again and again until there are no more...for now, just be my friend as long as I am...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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