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Thursday, June 16, 2011

On dating and Pain


So I cannot stress how much getting involved with someone romantically is not on my radar... I'm not looking and actively turning down advances of men who are looking...

(mainly because my issues have issues.... see the part about pain below)

That being said, if you approach me right and respectively and are persistent in your quest to get to no me. I'll go on a date with you.  I'll be 34 next week and I've learned that there is really nothing wrong with dating a man... a date is not a long termed commitment or even the start of one... it's simply good food, good company, and good conversation...

 But this dude took the cake.

He was nice... chivalrous... charming... and a pig! Sheesh... you can not touch me without me giving you leave to do so, Sir. You cannot consume 4 beers on a date and then decide it's time to get naked in your car... You cannot then insult me and say that I am bitter because I can resist your sloppy advances... smh

I am not apt to go on another date for a long while... these dudes are making me rather gun-shy!


It starts in my toes. My middle toe sticks straight up in the air as to say fuck you Julia and then my muscles lock from hip to ankle in my left leg.

I take this in stride...

I reach down and gently message the muscles of my legs until they ease just a bit. Then in a sickening waive of pain muscles in my right leg spasm and contract. My arms go numb and slices of pain trail my shoulders. I holler out. My mom rushes into my room.

Her mere presence calms me.

She holds and rocks me and tries to work out the tension in my muscles.
I was up half the night. I drugged myself to sleep.

I woke up sore thinking my body hates me... and I laugh at the absurdity of that statement... It was me who declared war on myself for twenty odd years...
           Abusive relationships ... check
           Self neglect ... check check
           Depression/Overeating/Lack of Exersize ... check check check

Changing all that is paramount!

Saturday, June 4, 2011

I just can't stop

The need to write the stories in my head is as real as the urge to feed when I am hungry. I have to do it... just as I need to inhale/exhale, I must write.

The need to share the words I've strung together are just as strong, but things get lost in translation. My words don't match the vision in my head and I can't show it to anyone, because they'll see the gaps and reject my claim on this gift that I consider my birthright... and that's a good day.

On a bad day the fear seeps into my soul and grips my talent in a choke hold and i can't put the pen to pad... I can't even look at the shit because i'm a fraud and everything that i ever wrote was a waist of tree bark. I know it even if you don't.

those five star reviews on amazon was simple kindness and nothing more.


I see a woman wipe a lone tear drop off her cheek and a story sparks into being in my mind.
In the breath of 2 seconds.
I can see that her daddy like the bottle more than her and her mom, and he left them both and her mother took comfort in the arms of every come by lately and one guy was a little to fond of her and he touched her pink places in the late hours before the dawn and fast forward to high school and she's pregnant and he left just like her daddy and she found solace in weed that morphed to nose candy that grew to a full on white horse addiction and she's mimicking the tricks she saw at the foot of her mothers bed in the apartment accept this one dude is making it rain and...

I go home and write all that shit down...


the shit i wrote is good, real good and i know that if people could just read it... they would think it's good too and they would give me five star reviews on amazon and junk and i will be an author....

easy peasy... but the devil is in the details.

I need an editor, but my son needs shoes. I need to pay a graphic artist, and the mortgage... my print cost is how much plush shipping.... fukoutahere the transmission is slipping on the truck... mom's car needs a starter and I have to work doubles to pull this shit off...

it aint worth it... i'm tired... i can't do this anymore...

I walk to the trolley because the trucks transmission has just died and a young girl stopped me. "I read Strawberry Mansion in one day! Oh my God I love that book. It made me cry!" I smile "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it" I get on the trolley and pull out a notebook and write....

because I just can't stop...

Until next time

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

What's important

Today I was so proud to see my son drive away. He's a young man now and that fact fills me with a heady mixture of pride and fear. I want him to be good... AT EVERYTHING, but to learn and grow I know he must fail... that's where the fear comes in.

I know the pain that lies ahead of him ...

When he hit a truck today a million and one thoughts went through my head... I needed to make sure he had all his fingers and toes and they all wiggled. I needed to soothe his fears about the damn car and explain to him that things, no matter how fancy, are just things.

Then came the wine... because I was shaking...

All is well... Everyone is okay.  I'm still shaking...

And my head hurts...

And I'm trying to keep busy so my overactive imagination prevents me from ever giving him car keys again...
I'm going to clean something ... then write something ... then go to bed...

Until next time


Work From Home They Said with John H. Howard

I am a very stubborn and impulsive person. I always have been, and I probably always will be. And, although these attributes serve me w...