Truth.

image

Advertisements

Image

I Miss Dick.

The world misses you Mr. Feynman.  We need more bongo playing, safe cracking, practical jokester physicists who have a way with the ladies.

image

Blame it on the Rain.

A few nights ago I had this dream where I was standing in the driveway in front of my parent’s garage.  It was pouring rain.  Like big fat raindrops just soaking everything.  I remember thinking that I should have felt colder than I was, but then again, I don’t recall feeling temperature differences in dreams.
Normally, my dreams are brought to me in Technicolor, but this dream was sepia. 
My sister was standing there with me and I could tell that she was incredibly upset.  I got the feeling that she was upset over some dipshit guy she was dating who repeatedly fucked her over, lied to her and broke her heart. 

I remember staring at her for a second, and then I just said to her “Walk your truth.”  I then turned around to leave, but not before cupping my hands to catch the pouring rain and splashing the collected rainwater onto myself.

(A playful little move I do in the shower with a special someone.  Now you know my secret to wooing.)

Now, normally my dreams are really …..bizarre.  (I love my dreams btw) Usually when I awake and recall them, I can see why such and such made an appearance.  Most of the time when I recall, I’m just like….What the fuck???  (Like the dream I had a week ago where Jeepers Creepers was trying to electrocute me, and I used a metal shelf to absorb the electricity….makes perfect sense right?)

I also like to believe that no matter how absurd or mundane a dream may be, that there ARE some elements to them….messages.. that come from my subconscious… the universe….spirit guides….too many late night cheeseburgers…

This dream I feel, was so from my subconscious….and so direct and to the point.

It wasn’t so much me telling my sister to walk her truth, but it was me telling ME to walk my truth.  Her appearance in the dream, upset over some twatwaffle, was actually a representation of ME. 

Our romantic lives run pretty much parallel to each other, so I’m guessing my subconscious, guides, universe, cheeseburger used her image to get my attention. Got me to focus in on the distress that I have often found myself in, over someone who has done me wrong. And in my attempts to “right” or “fix” or out hope that they will recognize their truth, I have pretty much shut myself away.

I have spent so much time worrying, hurting and being anxious, that those parts have taken over.

The dream taking place in the rain only solidifies that I need to just rid myself of those “weights”, and when you throw in the fact that I was splashing myself….and the fact that I was doing my little playful splashy splash, well…..bottom line….I have not been in touch with my playful carefree me…..all because I became so bogged down in all that shit.

I lost my authentic me.

And fuck that. That’s some bullshit. Because if you ask me….my authentic me is pretty damn bitchin…and shame on a dickwank for not recognizing…or appreciating. And shame on me for losing sight of it. Especially considering that it was a mantra of mine for so long.

So walk your truths my friends. No matter what. No matter who.
image

Ramble On

I know.  I know I’ve been a total poo as of late.  Debbie Downer, all pessimistic and shit.  Jaded and bitter. 
My sense of humor dulled and watered….my outlook on life darkened.

I’m in an emotional rut.  My depression is getting the best of me.  Fucker.  I hate that guy. 

I’ve been trying to climb out of this hole it created….er…I created, and get back on my feet.  It’s not easy.  It’s hard to find rainbows and unicorns amongst all the dick cheese and grime of this world. (Haha…dick cheese…ehhhh….ewwww.)

There are truths I seek, and they all seem to lead to disappointing endings.  Or fallacies that were never truths to begin with.   Carefully guised in the form of subtle manipulation and insecurities.
It’s hard to, well for me anyways, to discern these truths as axioms or if they are just isolated to me.  Am I just the one with over the top expectations?  Am I stuck on “expectations”? Or is it hope? What’s the difference? This seems to be what I am stuck on as of late.

We all know that we should be open and honest.  Love unconditionally.  So why do some individuals find this to be so taxing?  Why is it so incredibly crushing when the trust you place in another human being is violated?
Why do I constantly set such high expectations?  Are these high expectations?
It’s not me…..It’s the other persons crap. I don’t need to carry it. Yet I do. How can I not when it does involve me….as in the way they treat me.

I miss the me I discovered a few years ago.  Sure sure, she was going through some major shit.  But she got through it.  With sass and perseverance.  Intention, even though she had no idea what the intent was or where it would take her.

Breathe in….breathe out…move forward with Intent.

Did I forget this?
Hmmm….
Or maybe what it all boils down to is that I dimmed myself down due to the insecurities of someone else.

Never dim people.

I dunno.  I’m a just rambling here.  Making no sense as usual.

I Did It My Way…

I totally lost my shit last night.

Not like an actual poop.. cause who’s walking around…err..nevermind.

I acted on pure emotion, and now I feel like shit.  Not like the actual mushy substance that comes from your butt…..damn it…moving on.

I’ve been struggling with the perceived realities that have been presented to me….and the ones I have created.  Truths can be relative.

Regret.  I’m living with a huge boulder of regret.
I try not to regret….In the words of Sinatra, “Regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention.”

The regret of taking love for granted.  The selfish path I took instead of just being honest. 
I was the real coward.

*sigh*

My attempts for the quest of truth have only lead me back to holding the proverbial mirror to my own self.

I sort of feel like Cate Blanchette in the shitty Indiana Jones movie about the crystal skull bullshit….spoiler alert …..when she finally is given the opportunity to know EVERYTHING…and her head explodes because it’s all too much to handle. 

image

That is how I feel.  I wanted to know.  Now I do.  And it sucks knowing what I know.

Maybe ignorance truly is bliss…..then again…who wants to walk around being the fool?

Where’s the happy medium?

Anyways.  Yeah. 
Karma.  I get it.

F for Fake.

Sometimes we find these connections with people, that at the time, seem very profound and serendipitious.  Was it chance that paths crossed?  Kismet?  Fate? 
It’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of being gotten by someone.

Or the illusion of being gotten.

Stinks when there are ulterior motives….or cowardice….ego….frail frail egos.

If I am not worth the simplest truth, then what good am I too you?

I am not here for an ego boost.

I told you this a long time ago.

I thought it was understood.

Oh well.

I Have The Touch.

I am a big believer in action, not words. What you do, says a lot more to me than, well, what you say.

People say all kinds of shit. Let’s face it. We lie. The truth is beyond our lips at times. However, it’s harder to manipulate those subtle body cues that can be the dead give aways to our intentions, wants, likes and feelings.
Perfect example. Men. When your gal tells you nothing’s wrong, yet her body is stiff, distant and closed off…well that should be the big give away that she is lying.
Then again it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that when a woman says nothing is wrong that that is really your 1st give away that something is indeed wrong. 😛
But I kid.
Body cues. It’s the biggest indicator of intent.
The simple act of touching is another HUGE indicator of people’s intentions and feelings.
Obviously, when you really like someone, you are constantly touching them. I don’t mean in a pervy way either . . . though, you know, wink wink nudge nudge. . . umm. . what?
Yes. The power of touch. it’s usually a good indicator that the person is into you.
Now as I talk about the above, I am obviously talking about more in regards to a romantic/physical interest.
So why am I yapping about this?
It’s just something that I noticed the other day. Or for quite a while actually. . . but I’ve got some time on my hands, so why not yap about it.
Sure Sure. . . one can repeatedly say. . Yes. . I like you. I am very attracted to you. . . I find you very appealing. . yet when there is that lack of touch, that lack of wanting to touch, it makes me question what you are saying.
That is where my doubt comes.
I’m not saying that one must be pawing at one to prove their true intent.
Again. . . It’s science. It’s proven. It’s not psychological mumbo jumbo. . .It’s an innate human response. Strike that. It’s an innate response in just about every species.
Our emotions and body often betray what it is we are trying to hide. What we don’t want to say. What we don’t want to admit.
And simply put, it’s the truth that we hide from.
The truth of what it is actually the reality of what we truly feel, think and believe.
No one wants to be the bad guy, but I say, it’s better to be brutally honest than to blow smoke up people’s asses.
Brutal honesty I can forgive. Smoke blowing….not so much.
I dunno. Maybe I have been brainwashed by the commercialization of what love and passion is supposed to be. I know that things die down. Yet again, it’s those cues. Those subtle almost unmistakable cues that are the dead give aways. Even when the feelings of content settle in. . there is always the simplicity of touch.

That little reminder.