"Is your punch line just a joke..?"

A week or so ago, someone asked me when my "Mother" was due.  And was she having twins..?  I kind of just laughed it off at first because - in regard to the person in question - She is neither my mother (she's less than ten years older than me) nor is She pregnant.  However, it's an honest - and easy - mistake to make.  I've seen actual pregnant women who were smaller in size, and lately, time has definitely marched on (and on) across Her face.  So I just corrected them, helped them pick their jaw up off the floor, and went about it.

But it has haunted me every since.

It makes me wonder how much of what we think we are projecting about ourselves is actually what is being perceived by the world at large.  Do we care?  Should we care?  I can't fathom being that obese - being aware of it - and yet continuing to constantly shovel food into my face.  It's beyond me.  Not to mention revolting to watch.

I am, however, the polar opposite. I am, at this point, so dangerously underweight that it is bordering on downright scary.  There is not always a lot of food here, and when there is I usually feel like the runt of the litter fighting for scraps.  Often times if I don't get to it first and either eat it all, hide it or hoard it, I don't get a whole heck of a lot.  I also have a hard time watching Her eat.  It's mental, I know...

Roots and Wings

"If I could wish you just two things:  To give you roots; To give you wings."

This must have been someone's wish for me in 2009.  I first recall that quote as a teenager from the tv show Designing Women.  Julia had passed it along to a little girl going forth on her own journey and it has stuck with me all these years.  2009 was a difficult year for me.  I began the year violently ill, and it just seemed to fan out from there.  I learned so much about myself.  Some good.  Some bad.  But more so than anything, I learned a lot about my own foundations.  I learned who I really had to depend on.  I learned some ugly truths about the people and energies in my life.  I learned some beautiful revelations about my own self.  I put down roots.  I began to stand tall.  I realized through trial and error that it really IS all about ME - and what I am capable of...  Not what pleases everyone else.  The mother's words from the book Joy Luck Club (by Amy Tan) echoed in my head all year:  "Do you know your worth?"  And I began to understand what that means. 

It was difficult.  But often times growing is.  I have a tattoo over my heart that symbolizes chaos - not for the melodramatic affect - but as a reminder that even that which is most beautiful must fight through the ugliest of circumstance to bloom.  The I-Ching relates the story of the Lotus blossom and how to grow and become the glory that it is destined to be, it must fight through it's hard shell and all the mud surrounding it to spring forth.  This has been my year.  There's been a lot of shell - and A LOT of mud and muck...

And in the midst of all that I felt something shifting.  Something changing.  Something growing.  I realized last week it was my wings.  I had, in the course of 2009, begun to grow wings.  I was becoming ready - and able - to fly.

2010 is a year of promise.  The end of an era.  The beginning of a new one.  A new decade.  A new start.  It's time.  I have always been afraid of heights.  I have always been afraid of falling.  I clung to my nest of brambles and negativity because, as bad as it was, there was a safety there.  A comfort in the uncomfortable.  As bad as it was, it was familiar and for me, then, that was okay.  I knew what to expect.  But at some point over this past year, I began peering over the edge of that nest high up on that cliff and I saw horizons and sunrises and new voyages waiting...  And I began flexing those newfound wings.  I am still flexing - but my days of soaring are now at hand...  I am ready to jump.  I am ready to give it all I've got.  No risk.  No glory.

“Sometimes the fall kills you. 

And sometimes...  

when you fall...

you fly.”

Here's to flying high in 2010.

When Life hands you Lemons, Look in the Mirror.

What a weekend it's been.  Often times we bumble along, lamenting our woe-is-me lives and never once really take pause to look around and wonder on the why of it all.  Sometimes the Universe is really doing little more than giving us a mirror.  "Look at yourself," it says.  "Do you like what you see?"

This weekend was like that for me.  In wandering about the blogosphere I came across a blog that offended me greatly.  A casual comment totally rubbed me the wrong way and shoved me up onto my soap box.  It was a familiar comment: "That's Gay."  Uttered by many without a second thought.  And no, he didn't mean "that's happy and joyous and warm and fuzzy."  It was meant as an insult.  And it was taken as one.

It pissed me off.

It pissed a lot of people off.  

So much so that we almost had a witch hunt on ours hands.  I have asked that those it also offended to leave it alone.  There's no sense in added fuel to the fire and vilifying this asshole who it would obviously be lost on anyway.  Like the Bully on the playground, he would just enjoy the attention.  Unfollow him.  Flag his blog.  But do not play into his hatefulness.  That's not the point of this post.  I wont' go back up on soapbox other than to say this - and be done with it.  The defense of the offender is that he has gay friends (as he commented on the aforementioned post) and thusly they see no problem in it, so it's okay.  This seems to be a common defense of his.  Also on his blog is a rather offense rascist post - but again, he has black friends that think it's funny, so it's okay.  No.  It's not okay.  This hearkens to the "birds of a feather" theory to me.  It doesn't excuse it.  It explains it, certainly.  But it doesn't excuse it.  Just because misogynistic, homophobic, rascist bigots travel in herds and enjoy one another's company does not make it right.

I have a sense of humour.  A rather inappropriate and skewed one at that - as is blatantly obvious to anyone that reads my blog.  Humour is not the problem here.  What this brought to light for me, however, is how I am perceived.  How does what I say affect other that might come across what I am spewing out into the world?  It's really made me take a step back and reassess what I am putting out there and how it may be taken by others.  It's caused - and is causing - me to take some responsibility for what I say - be it in person - or online.

So really, I have to thank the jerk in some way for showing me what a jerk I can be - without ever meaning it.  I am really - from this point on - making a point of making a conscious effort to better myself and my own words.  Consider how it make be taken.  Consider if I want those words or actions to be a reflection of who I am as a person - as a part of this world.  I would be ashamed if I were to be perceived as I have perceived this blogger in this instance.

Ignorance runs rampant in this day and age.  It really needs no help in its endeavours.  Often times if we will take a moment - just a moment - to think before we speak or act we might feel differently about what we are putting out there.  I know this is the case for me.  And it's something I am vehemently embracing in bettering myself for the coming year - and many years to come.

A Ten Year (or so) Collective

This was inspired by several blogs out there that are doing their Top Ten-slash-Best of '09 posts.  I decided that since it's not only the end of the year, but also the end of a decade, I would look back at some of the blog posts over the years and see what my journey has looked like in words...  It's an interesting one, to say the least...

Once (A Poem), September 25th, 1999 - Hard to believe I was this happy at one point, as sad as that may sound.  I thought this was it.  "The One." The addressee and I are still (now) great friends, but the whole relationship went terribly awry.  It's nice to see this and remember how good it really and truly once was.

Drunk and Almost Dead, June 30, 2001 - And from that to this.  This one really shook me.  I don't even recall writing it.  I do recall, however, writing my own obituary (I used to work at a newspaper writing them), and toying with the idea of publishing it.  I even went so far as to place it on the page to see what it would look like.  The damn thing almost DID get published on accident by our idiot assistant at the time...

Go Away, October 15th, 2003 - I think sometimes, despite it all, we just yearn to be left alone.

Eggshells (A Poem), February 23, 2004 - This has always been one of my favourites.  It still holds true.

Travis (A Poem), March, 16th, 2004 - This is dedicated to a dear, dear friend of mine, Travis.  It was written the day he returned after being gone for a year when the war first broke out.

The Bug, April 22nd, 2004 - A funny.  (At last!)  I SOOO remember when this happened.  I got tickled rereading it.  It was pure bedlam!

Disowned & Owning It,  February 15th, 2007 - This is included because of its mention in my other post on lessons learned.  I think it is good to remember how real it all was.  And how hurt I was.  I am real bad to "it's okay" everything to death and gloss it over.  It's good to remember the truths of it all at the time it all went down.

Roscoe Jakob, June 9th, 2009 - Because he will be always remembered

Attack of the Suprise Doodie, August 6th, 2009 - Another funny - this time about Poo.

Coming Out of the Pain, November 11th, 2009 - This is one I really need to focus on.  Coming in out of it all and healing.  Moving forward.  I think it is a great summary of all that has passed and a beacon of hope for the future...

Wow.  One hell of a damned decade!!!  What a journey.  There were so many more than didn't make the inclusion - but if y'all are interested, it's all here (well, online somewhere).  I am not much of a packrat.  I don't often keep people for longer than they are worth.  But my words and memories stay with me always.  Those are worth keeping.

A Year in the Life of...

A little bit of seriousness (it happens) from the tidelands of a mad hatter with no head gear (that would be me).  No snark; no sarcasm (well not too much, anyway).  And I don't think there is a single "fuck" in the whole drawn out diatribe.

With 2009 coming to a close, I have been reflective of all this year has been.  This was to be a "top ten" of the lessons I have encountered over the course of the last year.  I don't think I quite made it to ten, but I have certainly unearthed some very valid realities to give me pause and to consider for the year to come.

It's funny how clearly we can see toward the future in re-examining all that has passed.

Letting it Be

 One of the best Beattles songs ever. I am so there. With my own riots and wars and heartbreaks. It's time that I, too, just learn to Let it Be - though it is proving to be much easier a task said, than a task done...

Stuck between a Rock... And a Rock.

I've been very conscious lately of the energies in my life - good, bad, or indifferent.  The idea that what you surround yourself with becomes your surrounding force.  Problem being there is a lot of negative surrounding me, and I just really am not enough of an asshole to tell them to bugger off (yet).  I've got this "buddy" - and in the course of less than a year he has managed to have major catastrophes with danged near everyone in his life.  Not just little tiffs, but not speaking to one another-slash-'you're dead to me' all out wars.  I've been caught in the crossfire for much of this.  I always seem to be the one that they all run to to bitch and moan.  Which is fine, I guess.  I am a good listener and would much rather be the peace keeper if I can at all help it.  I hate all that bickering and acting a damn fool.  Makes me a nervous wreck.

But, the problem now is, it's my turn to be The Antichrist.  I am the one now suffering the ire.  I've been deleted.  I have been unfollowed.  I have been ignored.  And I feel like the jerk when I've not really done anything deserving of all this.

In stepping back and attempting to look at the whole situation objectively - should I feel poorly?  If this person is constantly having problems with EVERYONE in their life...  Is constantly at war with someone...  Is constantly imbibed in some buulshittery and self-induced drama...  There is always cauldron chock-full of shit being stirred...  There is always someone upset...

Why do I care?

I know if I just let it run its course the wrath will shift and someone else will be in the doghouse...

But is it really worth it?

At what point do you wash your hands clean of it all and just walk away???

Or do you?

Or do you keep on keepin' on because, ultimately, you know it's worth it?

The Smoking Bun

Ever wondered what physchotic looks like?  Visit my house in the midst of one of my nic fits.  It aint cute.  Lack of nicotine turns me into something that Stephen King would tuck tail and run from.  I can't help.  Actually, in my own defense, I do make an effort to not be such ;and inversely I just get real, real quiet.  Creepy horror movie quiet.  But it's better than me biting everyone's head off because they said "Good Morning, Rabbit."  To which my first instinct is to hurl a large, heavy object at their face and reply with a "Leave me the fuck alone and die horribly in the night with your flesh erupting in boils."  Like I said, NOT CUTE.  So I just STFU and try to avoid everyone that breathes.

Cigarettes are my last vice.  I am an alcoholic in the WORST way - if it's there, I will drink it.  Same way with drugs.  It's like I turn into Mr. Vacuum Cleaner Sucker Guy and all the vodka and coke just magically disappear.  Poof!  So the fact that all I do now is smoke, I think I am doing pretty alright.  There were times when I really wasn't sure I was going to survive my addictions.  For better or worse, I did.  Now I just want a damned cigarette.

I have a friend who is obese and becoming more so.  His addiction is food.  Which is a great one to have if you're gonna have one because it's acceptable.  Society still laughs at you or cringes when they see you, but it's food.  Everyone has to eat.  He eats constantly and eats nothing but crap.   Junk food; chips; sodas; candy... Dinner when he comes home.  Then like clockwork a few hours later he's back at the trough rummaging and foraging and eating again.  It's one I don't understand because it manifests so obviously on the outside of your body.  Everyone can see that you are addicted to anything you can shovel into your face.  I would rather lose a limb than be obese.  It's my own fucked up vanity, I know.  And I know with the drugs and the drinking, it too manifests but it takes a minute - and even then, though you look like hell people aren't always 100% sure just exactly WTF it is that is wrong with you.  With being fat, there's no doubt.  When you squish into that booth and Greasy Bob's Burgers and flip your switch and the food starts flying into your pile hole like the tractor beam on the Death Star, everyone knows just exactly how you got there.  Good diet tactic for others, though.

I dunno.  I think I had a point at some point.  I just had this nicotine addiction.  I hate the headaches.  I hate the shaking.  I hate the mood swings.  One of these days, damn it.  One of these days.  Surely if I can kick coke, meth, and heroin - AND drinking - I can eventually stop smoking....  RIGHT????

Now, can I bum a cigarette from someone???

Coming Out of the Pain; Umbrella at the Ready

"It's very difficult keeping the line between the past and the present."

- Edith "Little Edie" Beale of Grey Gardens

My life has never been one of luxury. I have never been one to take the easy route - or even known where that route might be if one such exists. The bulk of my life has been a succession of hand offs from whomever wanted me the least to whomever could stand me for the time being. There was never a lot of effort made to actually rectify the problem(s) as much as it was just "Here, you deal with him." As an adult, I am coming to understand just how much that really has shaped who I am and how I deal with things. Or, don't deal with things as the case in point and truth may be. I just walk away. Let it be and watch it fall all to hell and go down in flames. And always from a distance.  Distance being key.  Next.

So the grande finale of questions now is: "What do I do about it?" How do I stop the cycle? It's all I have known - starting with the funny farm; then my grandparents; my sister's father; my mother; my mother's husbands... Nothing was ever permanent. Nothing was ever dealt with. An endless series of shuffle the problem child. If they couldn't beat it out of me or shout me into submission, I was passed off like a hot and fetid potato gone to mush. Even in school they didn't know what to do with me. I was dubbed Gifted & Special (heavy on the special, I think) and handed off to the Retard Teacher(s)... Lot of good that did, too.

I know this now. I recognize it. It has destroyed what life I might have had up until this point and in its wake most of the relationships therein. I just haven't (had) the tools - or even the knowledge of the tools - to begin building something better. I've needed a raft and have been standing knee deep in the river and dying of thirst... Filthy and unable to scrub away the funk. Unable to float away from it all without the fear of drowning in it.

I often feel like I got beat down with the short end of a shit covered stick engulfed in flames. Like it was all denied me before I even got some vague modicum of a chance to have a go at it. I was described today as Gay (which I am - fine - sobeit) as a negative - in contextual comparison to unwed teenage mothers and cutters; and likened to all as being "trashy." It was a big slap in the face - and quite a wake up call. I forget that such is how people view me. Even, apparently, those closest to me. Just yet another in a string of black marks that I haven't much (if any) control over, I guess...

But perhaps, this new found knowledge - this recognition of it all - is my power. Perhaps this is my key. In knowing, maybe I can somehow stop it. No one wanted to deal with me then (not that anything's really changed in that regard). It's a harsh truth. But that was then.

This is my now.

Mine and mine alone.

I needn't anyone to deal with me any longer. I am my own man, standing (or trying to) on my own two feet - albeit a bit wobbly in my stillettos - but hey, you try standing on Size 12 feet in 8 inch heels. I am standing, damn it. (Okay, maybe I am just on hands and knees, and learning to crawl but it's progress.) The Child Called It became The Man Named Dave and he did alright for himself despite it all. He endured horrors not completely dissimilar to my own and came out on the other side. It was a struggle for him as well, but he prevailed. I believe - I hope - that somehow, someday, I can also.

I just don't quite know where to start. I do know now that I WANT to start. I want to begin to end all this horseshit and drama. First instinct, of course, is to start cutting... Break out the knives and start hacking away like a crazed and hungry hunter salivating over a fresh kill... But maybe all those melodramatic razor blade kisses of the past are part of the problem in the first place.

Who knows, really? I find myself in such a vastly different place for this part of the journey - for this leg of the race.

I have followed a hundred and two roads less taken for my entire life.

Perhaps now it's time to put on my waders and big boy britches and start trudging through the ruts that others have made in their own paths to salvation?

Perhaps if I want to get to the other side, the only way to get there is to go through it? Heavens knows all the bridges have been burnt at this point.... And I sure can't seem to get around the son of a bitch...

Perhaps... Perhaps...

Perhaps...

But, I'll tell you this:  I am bringin' my own damn flashlight, though. That tunnel sure looks pretty fuckin' dark to me.

Relatedly:

After a While

by Veronica Shoffstall

After a while you learn the subtle difference

between holding a hand and chaining a soul.

And you learn that love doesn't mean learning

and company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

and presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept your defeat with your head

up and your eyes open,

with the grace of an adult,

not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all you roads on today

because tomorrow ground is too uncertain for plans.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns

if you get too much.

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own

soul, instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth.

From Howling to Dancing...

Got in a bit of hot water over the name of my blog,
When Rabbit Howls...

Copyright infringement or some such poo of the horse.

So I decided to dance...

Points for you if you know where this title,
Redhead Dancing,  comes from...

A Rabbity Defense

This blog is my vent.  I am not psychotic and all Sylvia Plath with my head in the oven (it's electric, anyway) or toilet and suicidal.  I am just ranting.  I am getting it out, and working through it.  It's not unlike taking pen to paper in a journal - which I do also.  I just prefer this medium because of all the feedback I receive.  It often helps to hear your comments and thoughts and [it] gives me a new perspective I might not have considered otherwise.

Some people drink.  Some people dance.  Some people punch things.   Some people scream at the make-believe.  I blog.  I howl...

All is (relatively) well in Rabbitland.  I am just howling.  Wading through the bullshit...  "Makin' in work," as Tim would say.

But I thank you all for all your concern and feedback and input and shut-fuck-ups.  It really does help more than you know.

Flying into the light of the dark, black night.

"It's only after you've lost everything, that you're free to do anything."

- Chuck Palaniuk, Fight Club

I just feel broken.

This whole disastrous moving process has really put an incredible spin on the ways of my world.  In so, so many ways, I have never felt more alone.  Inversely, I have never been more aware of who I am, what I can do, and the harsh truths that are my life.  It's a good thing.  I think alone is far better that a festering cess pool of bullshit.  This ordeal has broken my heart, my faith - even my misguided belief system - and believe you me, it needed breaking.

It's made me sit back and realize so many things in the course of the last two weeks.  All the advice and seemingly well-intended suggestions, offers of help and support, so on and so forth, I know now are nothing but empty promise, self-gratifying goodities so YOU feel better about yourself, and so much as whispers on the wind...  In essence, it's all a crock of shit.

"You should do this, Rabbit."  "I'll help, Rabbit."  "If you ever need anything, Rabbit..."

Yeah, well...  When it came down to it, who is actually here?  No God Damned Body.  Yet again, I am on my own.  It's all on me.  I don't know why this struck me so alarmingly this time around.  Maybe because for once I had allowed myself to believe people.  To believe IN people.  I don't know why, really.  As a kid, I was shipped around to whomever hated me less at the time, dropped off at random hotel rooms, left to fend for myself when I made a mistake.  It's the way of things.  It always has been, and - blaringly obviously - it always will be.

And I hate to feel this way, but I am done.  If it is to be only me, the damn it to hell, it's going to be all ABOUT me.  I'm over it.  I. Am. Done.  Remember this folks, when you want your carpet laid, or your car worked on, or your obnoxious snot-oozing child babysat...  When you want a free haircut or website or makeover for your whore of a sister's 19th wedding...

Hell.  Fucking.  No.

I am saying it now.  Take note.  Tweet it.  Post it.  Broadcast it.  Scream it from the fucking rooftops.  Roll it up and stick it in your squishy places.  I really don't care.  You'll all taken all you're gonna get.  It's over.

And from the ashes of all this bullshit, I will rise.

So thank you, and good-night.

I'll fly above.

It's beneath me.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night...

Take these broken wings & learn to fly...

All your life, you were only waiting

for this moment to arise.

Blackbird, fly.

Into the light of the dark, black night."

- John Lennon, Paul McCartney

My Boo...

I am in the middle of packing/moving/Hell.  We have to be out of the apartment by this weekend.  Fun stuff.  Not really going to miss this place with the drug wars outside, the constant barrage of Police sirens, the insane maudlin whackbag next door that knocks on my door all day long for no real reason (her record is 59 times in one day).  What I will miss are the local ghosties that have taken up shop here.  Everyone in the complex has had experiences here, but since we moved in they seem to have taken a liking to me and decided to hang around - A Lot!  They're a fiesty bunch, too.  Forever moving or hiding things...  Opening cabinets (which I, of course, walk into with much fanfare)...  Turning off the TV you are watching right at that best part - and simultaneously turning on the TV in the other room to Yo Gabba Gabba or some other such madness...

They've been more active than usual lately and I had just written it off as being close to Samhain - active energy - all that jazz.  The other morning I was talking to Mimi in here on the computer and they turned on the TV, full blast to The Shining!  The part where that wretched little boy is shouting "Redrum!" over and over and Shelley Duvall is braying like a mule.  Heck of a way to start the day, lemme tell ya!

But, now, I think there's more to it than just Samhain.  Had all the kitchen stuff laid out to pack.  Dishes in the floor with the newspaper to wrap them in all that jazz.  Went to the back to get a cigarette and my coffee, turned around and the dishes are gone.  Gone, y'all.  Not in the living room.  GONE.  I was completely gobsmacked.  Walked into the kitchen and all the empty cabinets that I had left open are now closed.  I'm now a little bit shaken at this point.  I open the cupboard, and lo and behold - ALL my dishes are put away...  Back in the cabinets.  Perfectly organized...  I am just stunned.

I really think I am gonna miss these boogers when we leave here.

And I am beginning to suspect they may just miss me as well...

Now, if only I could talk them into helping me PACK rather than UNPACK...  We'd be rockin'!

:: UPDATE:  What a trip.  Check out Mimi's blog from this morning... ::

For Everything... Turn. Turn. Turn.

It's really staggering how quickly the tides can turn.  It was really an actually promising week, up until last night, for the most part.  Some good news.  Some changes.  Despite the week long headache, all the rain, and the general doldrums of it all, I was hopeful.  I was optimistic.  I felt things changing and moving forward.  There were opportunities manifest just on the horizon.  One.  More.  Step.  And then the proverbial poo went flying into the ceiling fan and rained chunky corn-filled shit down on everything.

Such is the way of life, I guess.

I don't know what is in store.  I think it hit me earlier when I began organizing the possessions that decorate my world.  I removed all the art from the front room's walls and a quiet eeriness set in.  It feels vast and empty and haunted in there now.  Your voice echoes when you speak, so my usual banter to myself and silly humming of nonsense is quieted.  I don't like hearing it bounce back at me.

So what next?  The heavens only know.  A part of me really does not want to leave.  A part of me is still foolishly hopeful - perhaps hopeful is not the proper word - wishful that things might have changed.  That things might have, in some way, ended (up) differently.  I don't know.  Perhaps I am just comfortable in this - be it good, bad, or indifferent - and fear the changes to come.

I really don't know what I am feeling...  I just know all this negativity is killing me.  Hope by hope.  Prayer by prayer.  Bone by bone.

And what I fear more is that eventually there won't be much of me left.

I feel I have already lost so, so much (of myself) already...

Howling...

I am truly feeling the pull of the Universe on my life lately.  There is an urgent and impending sense of change.  And I want it more than anything.  I am ready for it, yet I am stuck.  I don't know where to turn; what to do.  The last few years have been terribly troublesome.  I have undergone so, so many transitions.  I went from living the high life, though at the time, I was blinded to it.  I was making beaucoup coin, and a good job with so much promise.  Problem was, I was a raging alcoholic.  I lost my job.  I lost my townhouse.  And I made the mistake of moving back to the one black hole of despair that I fought most of my teenage years to get away from.  The drinking escalated even further (and who would have even thought that possible?).  I became a drug addict AGAIN - meth this time.  I had a breakdown.  I literally just fell apart.  I laid on my futon and let the garbage literally pile up.  There for a bit, I really think I lost my mind.  And something in me just broke...

Long story short, it led me back here.  I am not drinking now.  I am clean.  No drugs.  And I am trapped.  There are days when I miss it so badly, just because it made the world go away.  I am clinging desperately to hope.  Hope that things will get better.  Hope that things will change.  I am in such a state that I really just weep some days because I don't know how to fix it.  My physical being is such that I have difficulty standing for more than the briefest of spans of time.  I have nerve damage in my feet now.  It's a pain unlike anything I have ever endured.  And it is constant.  This limits where I might work.  My back is unsurprisingly not getting better all by itself.  There are days when I want nothing more than just to be still...  To not move...  But, yet, even that hurts.  It affects my entire body.  I have arthritis in dang near every part of me.  Simply things like sitting, typing, bathing are often times excruciating.  I could go on.  Migraines.  Ulcers.  And we won't even start with my teeth...  Or my lack there of...  Pain.  Pain.  Pain.  And then I am told - "Just go to the doctor."  Well, having no insurance or income makes those options limited as well.  The clinic only offers appointments on certain days.  I have to take the bus into town to get there. And wouldn't you know, it always falls on the days when it seems a victory to make it to the toilet and back to bed - much less hours away via public transportation...  I can't seem to win.

But despite it all, I really do try to stay positive.  I try to remember that it could be worse.  I am alive.  I am functional (for the most part).  I believe that what you put out, comes back.  Truly.  But I am surrounded by a barrage of negativity from every angle...  It's like a constant attack.  My roommate does not like me very much.  She likes herself even less.  And, I guess, were I her and living her life, I wouldn't either...  But I catch the brunt of it.  It seems she is constantly trying to break me down; keep me beaten.  I get constant snarky remarks thinly disguised as humour, though they never are.  It's blatantly apparent passive agression.  Which, because I recognize for what it is, I am usually able to deal with.  Usually.  But after a while, it does wear you down.  It does break your spirit.  It's so disheartening because when times were good, they were great.  We were once fearless and reckless and ready to take on the world.  I keep hoping it will come back to that.  That one day it will be THAT again.  The queer and the crazy girl.  But now I find it easier to just hope the world will end.  I got an actual compliment - not a back-sided cutesy insult, an actual compliment -  yesterday and it startled me so that I literally dropped my spatula into the eggs I was scrambling.  I mumbled something incoherent because I was just so stunned...

And then, in its own cloud of the negative, there is my family which has become a constant cess pool of drama.  Everyone is ALWAYS fighting with someone else.  And guess who hears all of it from all sides - and gets caught in the crossfire?  Yours truly.  Earlier this year, one sister and my mother weren't speaking.  People were dead to one another.  Absences were felt at the holidays.  Now, it's the other sister.  Petty, bullshit drama.  This family is so attention deficient.  Sooner or later if everyone keeps getting angry with everyone else for not paying enough or the proper attention to them, there will be no one to be angry with anymore!!!  Gonna run out of people to be upset with.  It's exhausting.

So how does one stay positive in the middle of all this?  How, exactly, do you just say "Fuck It!" and stay sane in the midst of all the chaos and funk and drama and physical restrictions???

Is it even possible?  I am beginning to have my doubts.  It seems so much easier to just be as ugly and dramatic and chaotic and negative as all those around me.

But that is not me.  I, in and within myself, am actually a really happy little creature.  I sing all day long.  I dance (well more kind of wiggle stumble) whenever the mood strikes.  I love living colour.  I never used to be this destroyed...

I want that back.  I just don't know how...

"Un-date"

It's not really an update, so much as an un-date. Haven't had much time to concentrate on this booger of a blog lately. Seems lots of things are being shifted about to make room for new projects and prospects. The ever changing journey! (And I'm lovin' it!!!)

For those interested, you can visit my tv-related blog, "Boobin' the Tube," or follow me on Twitter for the latest ramblings of the Rabbit. (And, of course, you can always find me on Facebook.)

Hopefully things will calm down soon and I can get back to "just Micael..."

Love & Slack,

The Mirror Has Two Faces

Don't you just love it when people in your life tell you one thing - offer suggestions - which when you actually listen to and follow they then bitch and moan and talk shit about to whomever will listen? Oh, my eyes ache from rolling.

Okay, enough of that. You get it. I get it. Bored with it. Point made.

But it is good motivation, I will say... Have to go to town today to talk to someone about a (paying) project that I am rather excited about. Am a bit nervous as I have to be a Real Person (well at least one that functions normally in the "real world") which is not something I am apt to do all that often these days. Hopefully all will go well.

School should be rockin' and rollin' soon too. Talked to the gal earlier this week and I was in the process of being processed so the September 9th start date should be a reality! Wow.

Also, my first assignment for PureSYTYCD has been submitted this morning. Just pending approval and it should be up. It's crap. Not at all up to par with my normal writings, but I was stressed and out of sorts and not near where I needed to be to write it but I think it still holds its own. The next one will be better. Of that I am certain.

But anyway, this is really just breadcrumbs so I can look back on the journey and see where I was when. It's been such a dark and strange few years that it's kinda nice to see the sun again.

I don't know how I allowed myself to get so far into the woods - but I am, at long last, finding my way out of the witch's oven - and onto the right path.

"Sometimes you meet yourself on the road before you have a chance to learn the appropriate greeting. Faced with your own possibilities, the hard part is knowing a speech is not required. All you have to say is yes."

I feel so...

utterly.
defeated.

Floating through the Floodgates

"you say you packed my things
and divided what was mine
you're off to the mountain top
i say her skinny legs could use sun..."

"don't make me scratch on you door
i never left you
for a banjo
i only just turned around for a poodle
and a corvette..."

"i'm trying not to move
it's just your ghost
passing through..."

"there's a light in your platoon
i never seen a light move
like yours
can do to me..."

"but i've got a place to go
i've got a ticket to your late show
and i'm worrying cause even still
you sure are pretty
when you're putting the damage on..."

- Tori Amos, "Putting the Damage On"

My world feels so whackadoodle and topsy-turvy lately that I just feel utterly lost. I don't know what is going on. When that shell cracked and the waters began to flow it just seemed to open up a torrential wellspring of chaos. Not that it's in anyway a negative - quite contrarywise actually - it's just so foreign to me at this point. For so long - the last ten years or so - I have created this Pink Floydesque wall around myself so as to not feel - not let anyone in - not have to exist - but it seems the Universe has been out there chipping away at the mortar and things are starting to cave in.

For the first time in so long I am experiencing what I suppose to be a longing. A want for something more. I have recently been in contact with someone from my past that I had not really considered in more than a passing thought and a well wish in ages. Now nostalgia has set in. Memories have resurfaced. Though things went terribly awry between us back then - I was a psycho and in a very bad place and despite all he did to try to keep up, it just didn't work out; I sent him running for the hills with his tail tucked between his legs - and I can't say that I blame him. Even in light of all that when the times were good, they were amazing. I miss that feeling. I miss that companionship. He's done well for himself and is happy (I think) in his own life as it became and for that I am also happy. We are friends again though we've not seen one another in almost a decade now. That, too, makes me happy.

The whole thing has me wondering though if I will ever find that again... Will it come around twice or was that it? Who knows... It's funny in its own way because I haven't even the slightest chance of a candidate as my life now stands but I can't help but to let these "what ifs" whisper from the shadows... What if I meet someone? (Of course, that would probably involve leaving the house every great once in a while.) What if I find that elusive spark in someone else? What if I allowed myself to be happy this time around? Would it work out? Or would I attack it again with painted black finger nails and rip off the flesh of all that is good like I always tend to do? Destroy it before it destroys me...?

I am almost afraid to ask...

Faith, Hope & Other Lost Oddities

My egg seems to be cracking, but I haven't the faintest clue as to what I will find inside.

What a year it's been. It reads like a sad, sad country song: lost my job, lost my house, lost my dogs, lost my business, went to jail somewhere in the midst of all that (I think that was last year - maybe not)...

Yet it somehow seems that in the process of it all I have begun to find myself. I am sober for the first time in my life which none of us ever thought would happen... I am discovering what I do and don't want. I am learning that the people I call friends are anything but. I am at long last feeling the sensation of standing on my own beach with the sand between my toes. The sun is shining down and I am not leaning on anyone or anything but myself.

But now what? I don't know what the next step is - and I have even less of a clue as to how to put one foot in front of the other to get there. I am not, however, worried. It will come.

I have becoming (am becoming?) a much quieter person. Not to say that I do not go about hooting and hollering and howling at the moon any longer, but more so that my spirit seems to have quieted. I don't feel the need to back up, break into a full sprint and run headlong into the proverbial dead end wall any longer. It now seems so pointless. Instead I begin the climb - brick by brick - to carry myself over that wall and out of this rut I have been in for so long that it feels as comfortable as my bed.

The difficulty of leaving such comforts though DOES however give me pause and threatens to trouble me. It's then that the what-ifs set in. What if I can't...? What if I don't...? What if I might...? What if I will...? What if I DO SUCCEED?

I seem to sabotage myself in my own successes... It's like that old song "The Southern Cross" - "And we never failed to fail. It was the easiest thing to do..." But the next line is what is egging me on - "You will survive being busted..."

Survival. Success. Redemption. Renaissance.

I only hope that when my shell does bust open that I, too, am stained with all the colours and cracks of the journey that brought me here. I have faith that I will be. I have hope that, one day, the inside will match the outside - in all it's stained, cracked, and colourful glory. And as for all the other lost oddities that I have forgotten about along the way - those too will be reclaimed, polished and worn like a badge of honour.