Saturday, December 29, 2012

Sticky pieces

I don't sell my trust.

It's not something you will find me standing on a street corner with, set out on a blanket with shiny baubles and trinkets. Individually sealed packets of my trust, like potpourri, free with purchase.

It is a living and breathing thing. I see it, golden honey trust, sticky and sweet to taste. Few ever will and when I share it, if I share it, then you have the mythical Ambrosia of The Gods, tho you may not realize it as you lick it off your fingers.

This is the rarest part of me, and I keep it hidden and guarded, locked in its very own Ivory Tower. The light of day never finds its way to this part, this sticky piece of me. I cant afford to let it stick to you because some of it leaves, never to return to me and there is a limited supply. Once I let some out, even if I take it back, a little piece of me is gone forever and it wont be replenished.

So what is this now? My foolishness? My recklessness? All these years to grow wise and now my trust is stuck to you, and it is dark, and it is dirty from only those things that taint it... And I dont want it back. It belongs to you now. Sticky on your fingers and no longer golden. Will you still lick it off? Will it churn in your belly instead of fill you with warmth?

Or will you sell it to someone else? Tainted trust, half off. Can you wash it off and feel clean and forget it was ever there to begin with? As easily disposed of as it was to disregard?

Do I just take whats left back to my tower? Lock it away where I should of left it and relearn the lesson I thought I already had, and watch that golden sweet piece turn bitter and dark on its own, with no light or love..and become a shadow..a sticky piece that thrives in hidden places that is passed over with so little regard.

I do not sell my trust.

But I want it to stay alive.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Germ warfare

One thing that hasn't changed about me is my shockingly horrible immune system. Yes, I am sick, AGAIN.

I have held on the the ability to get not just one germ, but 37 different kinds at the same time and break out into every known illness, I think this time its Ebola with a touch of the Black Plague. I'm almost proud of myself.

If the fevers, chills, shivering, teeth chattering and violent muscle spasms would let me get some real rest I'm sure I would be bragging all day.

And what am I doing about this? Not. One. Damn. Thing.

I mean, besides whining. That I am a champ at. I take Advil or Tylenol every two hours, swapping them off so as to keep the fever down to a level of moderate delirium. I am bleaching down everything I touch at work and not letting people come near me. Toast and tea. And sucking it up and going to work.

But you know what, I CAN. And that fucking rocks the socks. Even when I feel that I am going to fall over and die any second because there is no way I will draw another breath or survive this round of coughing, I am not panicking. I am working. I am taking calls, doing my job and doing it well.. so really? Ebola? Fuck you buddy. I might be skirting death but I feel like I'm fucking bullet proof.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Same as it ever was

"Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by, water flowing underground
Into the blue again, after the money's gone
Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground"

Helloooooo internet!!


I've missed you. Like a luvah. Like my companion that I spill my dark secrets to, who never judges, always listens to my every word as if I am simply fascinating and then goes the fuck home when I am tired. You are so good that way.

What have I been doing? Well thank you for asking!

Ive been working for a bank, training new bankers, taking phone calls and rocking the mutherfucking house like a boss for over a year now. Living on my own, kids moved out, off my panic meds, working out, losing weight, performing with Drag Kings, dating one of the performers, and keeping busy with concerts, movies, open mic poetry nights (friends who do slam) and comedy. I have been LIVING. Really fucking living. I leave my house EVERY SINGLE DAY.

It has been glorious.

Oh yeah.

And has it all been peaches and cream? No. There have been struggles. Major set backs. Lost loved ones, human and furry. Hard times with the kids, still having hard times with the kids, doing some praying there.. but you know what?


Even 5 years ago, I wouldnt of said I was living. I was a shell. Now I see me. Every day when I look in the mirror I see more and more of me looking back.

I got a lifetime back in a year, lovely internet.

Once in a lifetime. Same as it ever was.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Where and what the fuck

Oh my blog! OH MY BLOG! I have missed you. Even now as I steal internet from a friends house, and type these hastily written words, I ache for your loving embrace! Blog! I work for a bank now, for a year this month. I have a happy relationship. Im off my panic disorder medication. Im working out and getting in shape. Oh blog, life is wonderful. Mostly. I have so much to say and do, so much to get out of my finger tips and I am going to turn the internet back on in my home and do just that. This my darling blog is just a quickie, but I shall return and oh my, its going to be glorious!