house work reality

I am seriously impatient with reality that borrows time from a frozen maple tree.  And, since bi-dimensional realities have yet to be seriously considered mainstream, I suppose I shall sit here and write my story today.  Which is really quite boring, being one of the most common nature:  Housework.

"Housework is evil and must be stopped."  (fridge magnet)

So, in writing my own story, I'd write that part of this day out of the story.  And, instead . . . .

Still, no message.  All the usually tricks had not worked.  No message.

"He's either really going through it, or he's just mean like that."  That "or ...." was insecurity or was it.  The truth, on so many levels, we are still strangers.  But, if I learned anything in jail was, 'remember the last thing communicated and just remember that and do not create something only in your own head until you have another experience.  Realize and know the patterns.'  That last part always can be tricky to accept.

I have decided to accept the ones that do not make me impatient.  In other words, second time around, if things make you trip, they are friends.  If they take care for the things that make you trip, take it one day at a time.

After all, I am an absolute bitch.  Ask anyone who knows me really well.  I don't try to be, I just am -- one of those natural things that happens when I'm impatient+frustrated+angry=bitch.  These are my known-to-work solutions.

If I am being a bitch and I am right, an immediate acknowledgment of that and any required action or remedy is immediately taken, if I'm not right or being unreasonable or you don't understand a word I said, ask me if I'm hungry.  If yes is my answer, remind me I just told you I was hungry and that I said THAT is more important than talking right now.  If that doesn't make me laugh, "make love not war" (mlnw) is the only solution that comes to mind and be persistent and take no for an answer because my anger comes from something you nor I could be responsible for, so while we do our work let's make love as often as possible.

Beneath it all, truly, we are all happy living the life we are living.  If we were not, we would do something to change it, and that is "far more difficult than the 1st step in any revolution"  For the inspiration for this blog, for these words, for these feelings, for these acknowledgements, I owe much gratitude to all my intimates in all dimensions and those I do not even know yet.

So, sigh, housework, with my daughter, teaching her things my mom taught me.  Her spoon might be silver, but she's going to know how to polish it like a Dutch girl.

Home Again

When she met him, he was living at his parents.  Like so many stories, his had brought him full circle.  The struggle to be himself was an on-going battle in that scene.  She watched him challenged by that knowing how hard it is to be one's self when that "self" has no resemblance to the child that lived there so many years ago.  It seemed, to her, he was looking for the perfect role to play but could not help but be himself -- somewhere between the child he was supposed to play at home and the man he had become.  He simply did not realize how charming that was.

Or maybe he did, and the act was all for her benefit.  She did not discard that possibility, she was, after all, a social media artist -- every angle of every story was possible.

The ancient patterns of childhood always come crashing into the reality which tries to rewrite and change everything one has become while growing into one's self.  Those old habits of relationships and beliefs now so out of place seemingly to be easily discarded as out-dated, but yet they remain ingrained in the timing and rhythm of the original family.  Time will tell if the rub of the new relationship would be enough to slough off the dead patterns and whether that may be the only purpose of the relationship.

She was a mess all by herself, she thought. "Why would anyone want to be in a relationship with me?"  She wondered out loud.

"me, distracting myself becuz i cannot feel u."

That was the last line of the instant message and it was sent before she thought again, and then she drew in a sharp breath.  Just an honest statement of fact, really.  But, it was no longer just in her mind.  Then, consistent with her own rule, she deleted the conversation.

"What do you need from me?"  Was his instant response.

"just b."

"I can do that."

'Life is merely another form of self-imposition' came to mind, and she dared to seed her next thought, "what i want ...."

His text was equally responsive.  It was then when I decided he was a very responsive human being after all; when he was being responsive, that is.  Considering him as a human consort just got more intriguing.   Curiosity is, after all, the highest path in human evolution, but it is not without its hazards.