Tempus Edax Rerum ….in the meantime

No more ashes to ashes
No more cinders from the sky
And all the laws of creation
Tell a dead man how to die

There is one word to the morning
There is one word to the truth
There is one word back to civilization
Well there is no word back to you

The first few paragraphs are an unsent letter deticated to an ex from a while back, he was quite inconsequential in my life, but a bridge out of somewhere I didn’t want to be in his own right. After that I just kept writing.

“I hope you liked her, it would be romantic to say that I made her for you, and perhaps I’ll let you believe that I did, or that even she was me, but I didn’t and she’s not.

Although I can tell you this, you made it simple for me to be her, it wasn’t a heavy burden to conceal the fires than burned beneath that cool and calm exterior. I liked her. Everyone did.

A work of art, some people write stories, others craft sculptures, and various other seemingly endless mediums. I crafted flesh and bone, I designed a personality. I embodied and let myself become completely encompassed by my own creation. At that point in my life I had abandoned myself so heavily that I was left with a near blank canvass to work with.

Don’t for a moment think, that I am attempting to convoy a lost sense of self, or embrace pity. I knew all the while that my creation was only a fragment of the multifaceted rough in the diamond that is myself.

I do admit, for a while I thought I could stop renting the property and start building a life there, perhaps this facet of me was one I could comfortably grow old in and forget about the rest of the more unsavoury or socially unacceptable by the majority.

Of course not.

As collected and charismatic as I seemed. I still went home, closed the curtains and let go of the veils that surrounded me. I screamed and howled at the moon, I wrote and scribbled franticly, I spoke and listened to voices that wernt there -or at least not the “there” you know- I annihilated my body from the inside and expanded my mind by tearing in to and feasting on the substance of the collective universal consciousness. There was, is and always will be balance even if I can only see it. Even if I can’t.

I embrace it.

And then you did something very silly; You sort of kind of fell in love with her. You began to shed your own veils behind closed doors, but in her presence. In my presence, as I watched you open yourself up ever so slightly to someone who you thought to be genuine. To a gollum.

That fragmented percentage felt for you too though, so please, don’t feel bitter. From what I gave, the glimpse I showed you, that tiny piece of me loved you too.”

I am not sure where the skill and pleasure that comes from moulding my outer core came from, or when it started. Childhood trauma? Lack of children and far too many adult influence as a child? I’m sure the “professionals” would have an interesting time figuring that one out and for each one a diagnosis and chemical cure would be prescribed.

Even becoming, if even for a short time the overly medicated somewhat sedated girl seems appealing. Only for a while though, I wear these skins but they all come with expirey dates, they all rot and flake away like someones old dinner left unfinished to decay, until another meal is served, hot and steaming.

Humans, and everything they know and think they know, are nothing short of just damn neat. So incredibly interesting.

Their brains, their body language, the secrets they tell without uttering a word. All you have to do is pay attention. We are these fantastically intricate and advanced machines, just surging with power and potential, but power is hard to handle and potential takes effort and some one else will do that for us right?

Why wipe the dribble from our mouths when someone else will.
I am coming off as egotistical, and pretentious and perhaps even as someone sporting a huge messiah complex. This isn’t true, I on a normal day like myself probably even less than the average self loathing North American Joe. I envy those who have chosen their path and stuck to it, those mundane cookie cutter personalities served thick like a paste. The certainty and acceptance of being totally mediocre, and the peace that comes with ignorance.

I have never been granted ignorance that wasn’t self medicated. I see what they want, and if I like them I grant them said person, and if I don’t I give something very different. On a different level, if I love them. I give them me, whether they like it or not.

So maybe I am choosing to use my gifts from the powers that be, those gifts of awareness and knowledge outside of the “norm” for frivolous reasons, maybe even squandering them or wasting even.

There is a certain amount of vexed irritation that comes with gifts without guidance, imagine receiving a ten thousand piece puzzle with no image reference for Christmas.

Thanks a fucking lot.

Empathy, balanced with Apathy. Knowledge balanced with arrogance. Compassion balanced with Heavy Scepticism. I get that, I get the balance thing, and I am grateful for the understanding of that importance. What I have yet to find out in my near 26 years of life is the point of all this awareness. Why me? What great opportunity have I been granted to utilize these talents as anything but party tricks.
Guidance to understand the complete and total labyrinth that lays beneath my skull, the one that I after all this time have only just scratched the surface of.

Who the hell could give that? Or even fathom me as anything but a mind fucking ego maniac with a big problem with boredom. It isn’t true. I love those who I eat, and those who eat me. We subconsiously share our souls on a silver plater and dig in, and there is nothing wrong with that.

“If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you’re a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.
Kurt Vonnegut”

The Mind

a vacuum for knowledge, turning inwards, reflecting and projecting
all that is,

and could be,

accepting and manifesting.

I am nothing and everything.

feel,

desire,

imagine,

create.

Forever grateful to the powers that be.

I can see the covers, as they fall from my body
sliding down skin, vulnerable pink flesh
mornings waken, spent alone.
staring in to space, falling inward, mind turning inward
Fleeting thoughts flying like bats of of hell
silence silence silence.

Melting away like a chemical burn
a desire and a demand for truism
a pain when it’s not met.
a simple desire.

Lights and laughter filled the air
fire twirled and faeries showed their true colours
A dancing fae, she captivates a little soul
the tiny purple heart shone brightest of them all
shadows and night, transfiguration

Lips, bodies, wings, dancing, drinks, heels, breasts, panties, a sexual current flows through, a salty river, the taste of sweat lingers in the air. Freedom, if at least for tonight. As a collective consciousness, together we own (if but for a moment) this little part of the universe.

winding down , she finds herself lonely, yet unwilling to reach out for comfort. This too shall pass, emotions are a hindrance. Still right now, she wants a warm embrace, no words or strings, just a chest to rest her ear on,  although she wouldn’t ask. Desperation, at least in her case,  is for the weak.

A desire to sing, to change, to improve up on this half baked dish. A dejavu tells me I’m going in the right direction, blind folded and deaf.

This little town is filled with magic,  I have fragments of their goodness scattered around me, falling like snow,

despite my tendency to run, to move, to never root,

I am lucky to be draped in the souls I’ve been blessed with. Lucky to be part of that collective consciousness.

Fear can wait.

Where have I been? Around having some very good times and some very erroneous times… but
mostly I’ve been wasting time.

Fleeting and fluttering. This butterfly act is getting old I think.

It’s time to sink my feet in to land, to stop being a concept. How can I feel so hurt when those I am close to treat me as such (a concept) when thats how I feel about myself too? Two dimensional, to go any deeper would be precarious.

Thai massage, there are some well spoken of courses for it here on salt spring. I am understanding that fate has brought me here to salt spring for a reason, I also understand that it is well past my time to be wasting anymore precious time. So what do you have to offer me Salt Spring? How will you help me grow?

Massage, Herbology, Yoga, Acrobatics, Dance, creative writing. All of which I have interest in, but fear the practicality, or lack there of.
Yoga and Massage…. probably the top contenders. Every time I try and attend a yoga class lately it ends up being canceled. Now this is either the universe trying to sway me away from it or make me work harder for what I want. I’m going to go with the latter because I refuse to accept that the universe would not want me doing yoga. Silly.

http://www.academyofmassage.ca/classes.htm

An interesting idea at least.

My house, I love my house, but is becoming increasingly obvious I can’t stay here for a long period of time. I can’t really say that there has ever been a solid home in my life, I’m always moving, at least once a year, two years tops. that’s the way it’s been for my forever. I’m not a gypsy, am I?I do admit I crave stability, I sometimes wish I could root myself. Find a nice little
home, somewhere that screamed MYA, I’M YOURS!! That, I guess is one of the few forms of commitment that wouldn’t send chills up my spine.
As I was saying my home, as winter is approaching I feel the chill and fear of being stranded and broke in January, stuck at the bottom of a hill.
As I see it I have two options, either A: Find a place closer to town, or B: Take and pass my drivers test in November and somehow acquire a shitty island car, a truck would be even better…. I need a teacher though, I can’t afford professional lessons… someone that will teach for cookies and hugs?

Employment, I need more money plain and simple, and yeah I know it’s kind of ridiculous to be a pretty able young woman and NOT be working as a server or a bartender. I’m socially anxious, you wouldn’t think it but I am. I need to suck it up.

I had a good friend egg, read my cards and practice some psychic surgery on me. I admit it was certainly an interesting experience the cards basically told me to get my shit together, the egging and the surgery on the otherhand seemed to open the flood gates. I had mastered the art of not feeling unless I had to, no exploding, no ulcers, just trying to rebel against the stereotype that all women are crazy emotional wrecks. This has not so much torn down the wall but it’s cracked, and I’m feeling again. Perhaps it will be enough to push me in to decision and further help me figure out what to do with this tiny vessel.
Still I prefer to push the feelings down, not down to my feet, but down to my hands, flowing in my fingers and bursting through their tips. For what am I without my art? Pretty damn empty.

With a trail of casualties, stark and defeated
the smile of a cat and the teeth of a dragon
Guilt flows like a parasite, shutting me down
But a fire burns from deep within
unconquerable and stubborn,
enter leaving all your inhibitions at the door

I’ll figure it out, I have good people here. People that warm me from within and make my face cramp from smiling too hard. I am lost just like everyone else but I’m not alone, I can be alone if I want but I no longer have to be.

I’ve been practicing silence even to myself since 7:30pm last night, it’s odd not speaking…. although it seeming to create a certain sense of clarity. It’s welcome none the less.