Category: Uncategorized

Recognize you are prey and deal with the consequences of nature, it’s really not rocket science, my dear.

Really? So he said.  So I heard.

As prey, asprey, xx xx xx xx, huh, wait, why the auto-correct? WTF? What happened to my language? What’s happening to my reality?

I’ve experienced that before, haven’t I? The ‘reality check’?

You have “abilities” do you not?  All prey do, dew, due, n’est-ce pas? Look where you come from.

You look pretty enough, well . . . in this light, anyway.

Give us a twirl now.

Suck in your stomach.  That’s a good girl. Give us a pout now.  There you go.

So pretty.

Ok, this ‘systemic racism’ card is done.  Marianne Williamson just did it in, probably the best thing she’s ever done in her career as lifetime actor.

https://www.newsbusters.org/blogs/nb/jeffrey-lord/2019/08/03/marianne-williamson-and-dark-psychic-forces-media

I know this woman does not buy her own B.S.!  She’s a tool of the Club of Rome and a nitwit to boot, and I say that in the nicest way, since I think the lot of those ‘running’ with her are total SODS.

How do I KNOW she does not buy her own B.S? Good question.

Because she knows it’s not about race, because she lived in southern Texas and she lived in Michigan, and unless she’s totally delusional, she knows there are no race wars happening here, at all, since, like 196-.

Give me a damn break, please!

I was just at the laundromat, I go regular now, since our washer broke, again, because unless you pay $1,000 you get a pile of crap.

Anyway, I like the laundromat, to be frank.  I learn a lot.

What I learned this last visit?  I did not understand but every 10th word from my local kinsmen in rural East Texas.  “Bingo” that’s what was being discussed. Literally, Bingo, the game, that’s one of the only words I understood, and I speak a conversational level of several languages.  This was, apparently, English.  Bless their hearts, they even tried to include me in the conversation.

“But, I’m not a ‘game person’,” I tried to explain, and the elderly black woman who I could hardly understand, generously trying to include me, with sweet yet cataract eyes, speaking my own language, in my own town, said, ‘me neither!’  For shame you so-called spiritual leader pretending there is conflict here, or there, of just a color nature!

I’ve NEVER felt threatened here, or anywhere, just by some ‘black threat’.  Nor them from my ‘white privilege’.  We are at the laundromat together, you f*cking brat.

And this so-called “spiritual teacher” Marianne Williamson, is a fraud of the highest degree.

We can paint him black, we can paint him white, we can paint him in rainbow colors or in muted tones.  That’s what makes him awesome.  I could spill out his worst qualities right now for my entire audience of about 12, and he’d still love me.  Not only would he still love me, he wouldn’t be offended.  He knows his worst qualities (perhaps thanks to me) and he does what every great man does with such wisdom, he works to change what he can, and he works to balance what he can’t change with love.

He has a ‘real’ job that makes me cringe!  He does it with a bravery and consistency and stoicism that I can hardly even fathom.

Then he comes home and creates magic.  He builds structure, raises the bacon, fixes the problems, big and small and well, other stuff, but we’ll keep this G-rated.

I could write a book about how wonderful he is, or I could write a book about how much better he could be, and he wouldn’t argue, and he wouldn’t say, “Why don’t you write a book about how much better YOU could be.”  Because he knows me, and he knows how much time and effort I spend on trying to be a better me.

That he is a good provider, a good worker, a gentle-man, with a long list of other positive characteristics and attributes are all secondary to the way he earns my adoration.  I am secure in my devotion because he does not ask me to self-erase.  He does not expect me to falsify my experience to make him look good or feel better.  Life squashing is not an amusement for him.

He knows when I’m hurting and he knows I’ll get through it, but he’ll face my tears with the same courage he faces the great big Gulf.  And smile at the little ways I find to soothe myself, like goofy garden art. 🙂

I love you, my sweet, Happy Birthday! I hope and intend to be with you for the rest of them.

 

 

 

It’s hard to believe, I know, but there were a few intermittent occasions when I was very well received by others.  Like when my boyfriend’s best friend was a dealer of the street drug we then called ecstasy.  I don’t know what they call it now.

But after a semester of that I ‘cleaned up’ and flew straight.

Anyway, it was innocent enough, and then I joined the Peace Corps, still a fresh young thing!

Oh I was so popular then!  That was long before cell phones, but if they were around then, mine would have been buzzing all day and night, woohoo!  And I probably would’ve loved it.

I imagined myself a future bonafide travel writer!

Lots of early clips I’ll someday scrapbook

There’s a lot actually, now lost to time and even cyberspace.
Like this little one giving a wee spanking to officers in Thailand.

I like being insipid and bitchy now and I feel inspired by other previously ‘harmless’ and people-pleasing types who have been donning their snark-spirit.  

From prey to threat, because, when in Rome.

But then, I dared to speak of subjects unpopular, and in a voice too unsavory.  Unsavory is the result of swallowing the bitter pill.  The obvious pleaser contract being:  Coat it in marzipan and holy water and all things ‘light’, or for heaven’s sake, at least smile!

I know how to smile; I have 1,000 of them. 

Teach me how to bristle again, like a teenage hedgehog, at least when they run me over in the night I’ll have humored us all first, authentically.