Something New

I started a new blog.

It’s a form of short lived therapy.

Not recommended by my therapist, but by a friend. And I think it’s a good idea.

I’ve debated on writing this catharsis here. In comingoutcrooked. But it just never felt…right.

My heart and soul aren’t here anymore. The way they once were…

Perhaps, I will get back to here some day.

Perhaps not.

Anyway…

Here is the link if you’d like to follow my journey to Finding Trish.

At the end of 30 posts I will delete the blog.

And begin anew.

Hopefully from a place of healing and self-love.

Inspired by a 30 day writing challenge, this has turned into something much bigger.

The purging is not only important. But necessary.

Equally as important. And as necessary. As the writing.

To me at least.

And I am learning, that is all that matters.

It’s in the creative stage. Designing the platform is almost as equally important.

Yes. I am an artist.

It’s a thing.

 

Advice from a Dying 24 Year-old

Wow…this is beautiful. And it’s so fucking true. I wonder how many of us “wake up” just moments before we die? Thank you brave boy. Your gift and your legacy has been received. Love and light. Namaste xo

MakeItUltra™

walking-into-the-sunset-copy

I came across this today and felt compelled to share.


“Soon I will be gone forever, but that’s okay as long as someone reads this. I am only 24 years old, yet I have actually already chosen my last tie. It’s the one that I will wear on my funeral a few months from now. It may not match my suit, but I think it’s perfect for the occasion.

The cancer diagnosis came too late to give me at least a tenuous hope for a long life, but I realized that the most important thing about death is to ensure that you leave this world a little better than it was before you existed with your contributions . The way I’ve lived my life so far, my existence or more precisely the loss of it, will not matter because I have lived without doing anything impactful.

Before, there were so many things…

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I Choose You…

 What a beautiful poem! Had to share. We don’t always know the right words to say to express how and why we choose the loves we choose, and this says it perfectly. Just nice. Makes me happy too Tikeetha🙂

Originally posted on Miniscule Diary: I choose you In the shadowy corners of my mind And the narrow edges of my heart I choose you On the loneliest paths And in the company of the Universe Yes, I choose you In the stark of night Where bodies merge and souls collide Oh, I choose you…

via I Choose You. — A Thomas Point of View

Tenative

Is it truly possible

To be smack dab in the middle?

To be caught

In the exact second

Between Now

And Then?

I am sitting in the midst

Of the most beautiful horizon

Neither bound in spirit

By up or down

Just basking in the twilight

Of the most heavenly Divine.

Moving stealthily  among  shadows

Of ancient times

Witness to the millionth tribunal

Of wind and grass and trees

I hear their secrets

In the swirling mists of dawn

Entwined in the ripple and stir

Of the silent lake

I float

In my yellow canoe.

Alone.

Adrift.

I listen.

Awakening.

I see.

Surrounded by the knowing

I feel it’s truth

Yet I am weighted in the mis-belief

That if I rock just ever so lightly

This way

Or that

I will drown in the depths

Of uncertainty

Forever grasping at the lifesaver ring

Tossed in carelessly

A habit of late

Without thought or consequence

By a soul who has no measure

Of who I really am.

Or what she saves.

Or why.

In this moment

I believe in the Universe

But, in love

I am in no true state

Of trust.

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Struggling

That gray cloud of disconsolate has turned an ominous black. I’m not managing it. I’m not handling it. I’m not beating it. It has me wrapped inside its womb of bleakness in a way I’m not sure I will birth myself from this time…

I’m not even sure I want to.

I am struggling.

To be. Here.

I no longer lament over broken dreams and a shattered heart. Nor over the spilled milk of my childhood. Nor over the abuse. The shame. The cowardice. The pain. Of this life. 

What’s the point of it?

I don’t walk in the graveyards of the past. 

I don’t miss him. 

Or her…

They don’t miss me. 

I miss something I’ve never had. Someone I’ve never had. And each day grows darker with the never having known it.

This isn’t a mood. Swing.

Or depression. 

Or psychosis. 

Or sadness. 

I am way beyond that.

This is despair.

True and desolate.

Mind numbing hopelessness. 

I write of it here for fear that I may never write here again.

I have given up.

This life is just too hard.

And I’m really not that strong.

I thought I was.

Everyone thought I was.

But they were wrong.

And so was I. 

Life just doesn’t make sense anymore. 

Not any of it.

Millennial Child

Unrealistic worldview?

Socially conscious?

Acceptable grossly exaggerated sense of entitlement?

No ownership of chaos?

Linear all inclusive me me ME?

Lacking in human empathy?

Sensitivity of others opinions obliterated?

Untolerated questioning of them?

Diversity a convenient slogan?

But only when applied to self?

Is this our children?

The future?

It’s frightening to consider.

And the world is already a scary scary place.


“Expression of and respect for different opinions, and growing from the sharing is also extremely valuable. Even our own two eye don’t have the same view, and as a result have to work together to gain perspective.”

I read this quote a few minutes ago in the comment section of a blog post called “24 Things Women Over 30 Should Wear”…whatever the fuck they want seemed to the be gist of it lol! And I say Hurray for freedom of self expression and self governance!

But this quote embodies exactly what I was trying to convey today in a conversation I was having with daughter – a Millenial Child – and the divide that exists between Generation X and hers. I’d like to think that as a loving and close mother and daughter duo we can overcome our generational distinctions, and/or at least agree to keep open minds and hearts and never cross the line of indifference, intolerance… and never subjugate our personal truths.

Admittedly, it’s a challenge.

But hasn’t it always been?

Didn’t our parents bitch about us?

And their parents about them?

It’s kinda what we do…

But there is definitely a brooding dialogue afoot and everyone is getting in on it!

Thankfully, it’s not all on me and my kid!

Or is it?


  1.   A great beginning to what is turning into a long debate of US against THEM…sigh😦


2) A Millenial Speaks Out About Her Own Generation: Attention Seeking or Truthsayer?

3) Ouch! (lol) Smart Asses!!! (Kinda my point!)

4) Humorous: Ya ya. I get it😉

Yup. I could go on. But I’m sure you get the point.

It’s…a thing. A generational thing. And it won’t end here. Wait till Millennial children have children lol. Oh boy! And, before you Millennials start bitching about Gen X’s and how we’ve ruined, well, the world…remember that as much as you don’t want to be stereotyped, neither do we! There’s a valid argument for every side of this multifaceted, headless coin! So don’t bitch about us bitching about you..DO SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE and BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH TO SEE IN THE WORLD!

Ya…kinda stole that last bit from Gandhi. He just knew shit and said it right!😉

BUTCH: Femmes Know

Lol…ya. Love this post, VV girl! It definitely speaks truths about our Butches. Love this. Love them. Just is xo (Thanks Mainely!)

Vulnerable Verbiage

 

I will write this to the best of my knowledge about BUTCH. For, I have loved and admired this gender since I was a young girl. I have been hopelessly drawn to butch women for as long as I can remember. Observed them and heard them. Touched them and experienced their love. Their convictions and their passion. Their strength and their vulnerabilities. They truly are a sexy force to be reckoned with.

Butch is neither male or female. There is no “man’s role” to the butch.

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