and it isn't fair!

Lot's Wife. She looked back and BAM! God turned her into a Salt Lick. Okay, okay, a pillar of salt. Same difference. Genesis...I don't know chapter 11 or something. Anyway, in the usual tradition of Old Testament Atrocities, it seems terribly violent and horrible and eventually Lot's daughters have sex with him but this is way after  the mom is salt, so she never knows.
Anyway that story disturbed the hell out of me as a child bc I was thinking but that is not fair. - The pillar of salt part. Sunday School teachers 

conveniently left out the incest part...

Anway, so now it is 25 years later and i'm STILL so angry that things are NOT FAIR.
I'm 7 going "Omg even GOD IS NOT FAIR! seriously??"

So you get over it, I guess. and keep going. And I am mostly grown up and I try to accept that good people get laid off,  honest people will not get hired because their skin is too too dark and in most situations...there is not much I can do about it. Ignorance very often prevails. But some small part of me, when i see something so wrong, is just as indignant as little orphan annie when she witnesses the dog Sandy's abuse.
I feel like a child... I do not want to accept the corrupted, greedy, vain and shallow NORMAL.  I want to  stamp my feet and shout.

I overheard two women at work ripping apart a person who they deemed "ugly." It just seemed so completely immoral and awful to me. I can tolerate a lot of socially deviant behavior, rarely do I pass judgement on a person for a lifestyle choice that does not harm innocent people...But I can not stand the catty, mean, superficial flaky comments like that...that pass for conversation. Is it our American culture? The BRATZ pop diva phenomenon? celeb/media?  or is it specifically the southern pageant culture that i am - unfortunately  - surrounded by. Or do some people just suck at manners?
Bc really, this obsession with "pretty" is pretty gross. and unfair.
and i wanted to say "look lady, it is what is on the inside that counts!!"
but i am pretty sure no one would believe me.

gratitude

Witched and Stitched

Gotta dark spot right here on my soul, ya wanna see it? it may make you grow old la la la la
So one thing i am not afraid of is the dark. My first love is the moon, tattooed on my stomach right beside a stitch with five stripes....one for each member of my immediate family including me. This ink is not supposed to be pretty or fancy...just a symbol that I wanted... that I needed. A stellarscar had to have had a stellar stitch. i need beauty. beauty and is truth. and the truth it almost always has a black spot...that I can't ignore, or look away from. Maybe it's my chemistry, my past or this world, but please don't ask me to lie.

So one thing I am not afraid of is the light. I saw some angels floating, arms up, healed and holy.

If there is a sun (god) so bright, then how can i continue to Hug My Sadness Like An Eyeless Doll?

I need this pain.

"Oh don't be so mello-dramatic. " my T said that to me once. Yes, for real. But it was okay..like knowing her and her coolness and the timing...It was perfect. Like, it might have changed my life.

So strange those moments...that come together. Stitched in time. A seam a crease a moment that SOMETHING happened

In my head i go back, and pull them apart and see if there is anything in there. I am headed straight to that dark corner to see what is in there, straight to edge to see if anyone has fallen over and i'm headed straight to the river to see if there are any snakes....and there are.....

( i took that pic today - it is a Banded Water Snake)

usually.

Im headed under the consciousness too. Like the Jung lover I am, i want to poke around in there..terrified of what i won't look away from.

Then i get bored with myself.

So I make up someone new. Some mothlike and drawn to the light, someone who will leave the darkness alone.

someone with..an apple core star heart made just for you

Margaret Atwood: “Is it necessary to suffer in order to be a writer?” aspiring writers are in the habit of asking.  “Don’t worry about the suffering,” I have tended to say.  “The suffering will occur whether you like it or not.”

Strattera VS Prozac Part II

6 weeks of Strattera. I don't have much of an appetite, I am not eating much, i am GAINING weight.

My mouth is the sahara desert.

My stomach hurts and feels full all the time.

i'm just like wtf, man?

I have no script for life and nothing makes sense and  I feel trapped

Oh wait. Maybe my script is the pharmaceutical insert in the strattera box. :C

ON THE 'NOTHER HAND..... i have accomplished more things, my focus is better, i can do my - not-even difficult-in-the- first-place -  job without

feeling like a wild raccoon being forced to do long division for 12 hours with no breaks.

I am more depressed. not terrible, but more.

Apparently Prozac and Strattera are not friends. They block each other.

in my brain.

sigh. so whatdoido?

somebody somewhere

y      why cant i format my blog omg . so. Ahem. Yesterday one of my best friends made her facebook status update "i remember when i thought i was going to be somebody" and it kind of felt like a cold knife...her words did. I mean we tried. Really, both of us, we did everything right. After college...things just. Things are harder than you ever imagine...unless, I guess, if your family has tons of money or if you  know people....or.... is is just us? I know the whole economy is all screwed up GLOBALLY and all..Is it doubled bc of the horrible condition of our state? Most people I know are too poor to even MOVE to another state.  Do things seem so impossible because we are SINGLE? bc marriage seemed ...well kinda lame and besides there was no one to marry...but finanically I see where dyads make sense. How do you be thankful, on one hand, for running water and food and the chance to be this free and on the other hand think oh my god this is the poorest and 2nd worst (pollution & education & health) state in the UNION and i cant. get. out. and i cant STAY here.We didn't know this. We got art degrees. We followed hearts and dreams and worked really really hard at something that is not valued down here. At all. but we didn't realize..how little it mattered...bc we thought that in a SOCIETY such as ours there should be room for the poets and artists and dancers and theatres to work and survive and matter. We were taught that.....But..I can't find the room.and i sit at my desk for 8 hours a day and i work and i FOCUS and i speak and inside i am SCREAMING and slowly dying and the colors are just running down..all the painting that i am NOT DOING RIGHT NOW are freaking begging me..inmyhead...to bring them to life.and im not complaining..REALLY. im just trying to make sense of it. make sense of who i am.And how i fit into all of this.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween is one of the most important holidays to me... I sincerely dread the winter and coming darkness, all those hours of no sunlight make it hard for my brain...I really feel Like Halloween is a time to get myself prepared for that, and to make it as festive as possible. I spent the first half of the day cleaning - and the second half with two grrl friends...we did the haunted history cemetary tour and watched Paranormal Activity at the local theatre. BUT! the coolest thing is that on the tour, we stopped by a law office that is also the local Historical Society Headquarters and they had a wall full of CLEMENTINE HUNTER ORIGINAlsI had no idea there were so many here in town, and the most famous ones to boot (big chicken) Ironically, this is just the day AFTER a forgery scam in the news. So that was amazing and exciting and I ran into my old Art History Professor so it was good to reconnect with her. I wore my witch had and witchy boots and kept thinking how Halloween is the one day of the year I can dress like I want to and no one STARES (like i wish i could dress EVERYDAY) and there were fabulous costumed strangers roaming about  and there were colorful mums and cornstalks decorating all of downtown.....Today I plan on making oatmeal cookies from scratch to take to some of the professors I am still friends with and then go visit my parents. I never eat the cookies I bake. Still. And I am holding off the loneliness...The air is still warm here but beneath that, the nights are gettin cool ..I am pushing back the cold wind swirling around the trees as they begin to bare their bark bones....Trying desperately to not wish for it to be my bones the cold air clings to. Putting this year to bed...remembering where all the ghosts of me have roamed. Gains and losses.

Sun sets on another year.