You Got Sars!

There are some amazing moments (or hours) from the last few days. I got to have dinner with one of the two most amazing women I know in this world. I needed to quantify because the world is big and one out of two makes it way more special of a title. She reminds me of all the quiet beauty that balances my soul. My heart breaks for the time we lose to business and work but quickly mends with conversation and shared feeling that souls can be connected in ways our minds could never grasp. My heart also breaks for the hurdles she faces in the path ahead. Her journey is along that narrow craggy road for a time. It isn’t a choice for her but a task she had to accept. We all have those. They suck. Fortunately she isn’t completely alone. The path may only be wide enough for one but the rules didn’t account for those that hold you up from below and put their hands in the cracks so you don’t twist your ankle. I hope I notice the tug on that private connection before she has to use it to call me for first aid. She will come out the other side a stronger, wiser woman having navigated the path. I hope she can hear that before she has to be told. I would bloody my fingers at the bottom of the barrel for her. This is what defines us. The people we would deplete ourselves for… willingly, happily. Who it is we would sacrifice handholds for. There are not many but the few know. I felt really frustrated earlier and it’s amazing how thinking of the people that make up the pieces of your heart can change that. I think that my barrel has plenty to spare

It appears that the psycho landlady has convinced some hopelessly naive (or perhaps, deaf, blind and mute)person that they should live in her studio.. I mean be a paying guest. Whatever…. 12 days till D day. That’s D for deposit. I really don’t want to have to get all legal speak, paper servin, book throwin at her but I will. Oh yes I will. And maybe a nice little note to her new guest, left on their car, parked with the flow of traffic, close to the railroad ties.

but it should have been… I opted for the slightly less offensive, still tough stance version. I cannot take credit for writing this. I guess if you catch him with chopsticks… he’ll write you funny letters….



If you fuck with my shit, I’ll fuckin sue you. I know people who know fung shui, and your shit is fucked. The couch is bullshit, and your goddamn tree is like 18 feet too far west. Fuck that. I know houses full of dudes who think you’re out of your mind, and will testify against you in kangaroo court. Move your flower pots 14.3 inches northwest, and paint your front door orange for proper Steven Seagal approved Funk Shooeieyyy effect. Affect. Whatever. Fuckin crazy bitch. Also, your dog offends the shit out of me. You’ll learn that. I’d give someone a fiver to drop kick it onto your roof, for better fung balance. I read that on the internet. Dogs on roof=superfung. Werd. You’ll probably try to find another tenant, and I’m going to do you a favor and write your craigslist ad, as follows: For rent: Whole bottom floor of former psychologist’s home. According to the internet, the way you become a “former psychologist” is by sucking at it. Or considering yourself one because you have such odd circuitry in your head that you need to justify yourself by talking to others about what you perceive to be their problems. Partially furnished, access through main door of house, though you must not make any noise, ever. If you are, perhaps, a newt, I request that you wipe your feet even though you may be noiseless. I request that all communication is via telepatheticakatinalism. It’s psychology. Security deposits to be depositededed to Bank of Mars. If interested, please communicate via Pony Express. Free Wireless Internet, I have some old bean cans and a bit of string, if you rub them together quickly you can make 56k.





my version…. meh, still good.
I am leaving your key by noon today, Sunday, April 27, 2008 as requested. As I have complied with all of your requests, I trust there will be no problem in the timely return of:

* Three and one half days rent for April, paid in advance, in the amount of $75.83 ($21.66 per day)
* Credit for my portion of “high speed internet” that was to be included in my rent, as I did not have internet access at all during my tenancy. Though I could see the network, I could not access through your encrypted router.
* My security deposit.

While I realize you are entitled to keep a portion of my security deposit, after providing me with an itemized accounting and receipts, I am sure you will find everything in order.

After I received your email in response to my 30 day notice, I consulted my attorney. Should you feel that there has been a “broken lease”, let me make you aware of the following facts that we may avoid any undue contentions:

* We do not have a lease of any kind in place. We have a signed rental application with attached agreement to sign a lease and give a deposit.
* We had a verbal month to month agreement as of April 6th, the date we sat and talked about your initial concerns that I didn’t understand your “feng shui needs”.
* You initiated a three day move out and I accepted your offer, in writing, thus making it binding. As I had provided you with a customary written 30 day notice, any breech in verbal contract was due to this contract.

Hopefully this will alleviate any unnecessary back and forth discussion.



yeah… fuck yo couch

So um yeah, movin out real quick like… Not so nice to the back. I'm not quite a third of the way there and the back, it hates me. I'm too young and pretty for this shit. (laughs at own sarcasm) Tomorrow should be fun though. I'm gonna drive the bf's really loud truck and fung up her shui. I feel better already.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

pum-bump, pum-bump… that kind of throbbing heart beat sound when the pressure builds and you feel like your skull’s gonna explode. That’s that noise I’m hearing in my head right now on top of the crackle of the muscles in my neck tightening. And it can’t be good when your shoulders are touching your ears… Can it? (I was not born like that) I find myself on that coaster again today but someone pushed the button for hyper speed. Then threw in a twisty section just to see if the top of my head would actually pop off. I feel like my chi crashed into the psycho’s feng shui and caused a crack in the space time continuum. The gaping hole has sucked up the tickets I got her to grumpy-old-folks land. They were in the box with the batteries and toys…. You know it can never give you bad karma to give someone else the gift of bob. Maybe it will improve her outlook on life and she won’t need so much shui. Maybe it would just occupy some of her free time and she wouldn’t need to spend so much of it throwing grease on my tracks. Maybe I shoulda put some weed in there too. I’m not usually a fan, but I can make exceptions.

The breakneck speed continues but the whirly curve did not make me vomit. I’m in a tunnel right now and I don’t know what’s on the other side. Maybe another whirly-curve. Maybe drop off. Maybe it’s one of those water tanks that absorbs all the force and splashes and takes your picture. Or maybe it just rolls to a stop at the platform. Or maybe it’s some new fung shui (what does that look like so I can jump before I get there)

it’s at the right moment when you are on the verge of tears that a friend can push you over that edge. it isn’t bad. tears of realization. understanding. I am so fortunate that in my travels along the bridge I’ve not long been on the dissolution. More often than not I’m on that of resolution. I am learning. Always. And thankful. Always. I needed the tears. Thanks friend



done
finished
guilt diminished
time spillt
blood seeping
like guilt-weeping
onto parchment


gone
left behind
the past dawns
truly unkind
clouding the mind
fraying the edges
of parchment pledges


discarded
the heart guarded
by the husk
of the dirty dusk
the day without light
now night
no parchment read….

I find myself looking at the Sunday secrets on the Postsecret blog and wishing I had the courage to let go of my secrets. I have too many to pick from. How many times have you wished you could have that catharsis? How many times have you just wanted to let go? Yet here I sit… unable to release my death-grip on things that aren’t doing me any good at all. Things so far out of my control that I can’t even see them anymore, just feel them sometimes. Maybe I’ll make a goal. Beyond moving out of the psycho landlady’s place (oh yeah, it’s on… second move in 5 weeks) and more than the usual save money, workout, blah, blah, blah… By my birthday I will release at least 1 secret. I will remove some of that poison that keeps me from being well, free.

I’m so tired. I’m having a really bad hair day. I am going to prep for the nephew’s birthday party and then to dinner. This means time with my mom and sister in high stress situation with no down time. I love my mama, don’t get me wrong, but I’m quite certain it’s “‘bout that time eh?” – “right oh, then”. She still listens and talks and stuff but you can never predict when the hormone level is gonna go from first to fifth gear without the clutch. And right now is no picnic with my sister. She’s having a rough go topped with a layer of stress, frosted with PMS. I can handle her alone when she’s like this. It’s a very good time actually, a time of self revelation for her. I listen, she screams, I listen, she yells, I listen, she is sorry she’s been grumpy and tells me why, I tell her I didn’t notice, we laugh, discuss the real issue, I talk, she listens, we discuss…. It’s a good system. Sometimes there’s even resolution. But when the three of us are all together, a cloud sort of hangs over. I withdraw a bit. There is not enough energy for three type a’s to act type a at the same time so someone or two need to know to step back and leave extra for the others. There aren’t always two. Sometimes there’s a lot of clutchless shifting. And gear grinding. And some back firing on occasion. (I’ll admit there are times I don’t digress… bad, bad, bad idea. I am not a mother, but god damnit if I don’t forget that on occasion)
I think I’ll hug it out. I’m gonna get there and give big hugs all around. I’m gonna take my bad hair day havin, tired, dumpy feelin, shower needin (Shut it, I’m wearing deodorant), and hug it the fuck out. This is a night of prep for a kids party. This is not about us and our issues. It’s about him. And he is the coolest kid ever.

I am totally discombobulated. I keep forgetting to take off my computer glasses so I am getting a headache from straining when I look at stuff. It doesn’t help that I’m becoming a zombie because all I’m doing is looking at text that has nothing to do with anything remotely interesting to me. So I remembered I need to mail my taxes (woops) and I was caught completely off guard when I printed them and saw that I owe $82, I’m not getting $82. That is awesome. I have so much money to spare as I recently became independently wealthy… *wait, wait, I’m wiping the tears from my laughter… okay) Whatever, it’s actually just after lunch time and I have the best sando ever but I can’t eat it because I’m not allowed to eat at my desk – customers might see me. Customers? What customers? You mean the guy that came in 4 hours ago to see the Ag peeps across the hall for his pesticide application permit test (say that 3 times fast)? Or the chick that marched past me to the 4H girls to give them her clubs applications for something shit-kickerish? Those customers? Aaahhhh got it. Plus I think I’m still pissed at Mr. Eco Bike that was driving (riding – whatever) out of control and like an idiot on my way back from lunch. Wait… most people that ride those damn things are idiots. I get it, I really do. Being friendly to the environment and conserving gas, it’s a noble thing. But if you’re gonna ride a lame ass little bike, know the rules of the road. You do not get to switch from being a bike to a car because you have a motor. You do not get to be a motorized vehicle at all, under California rules, because you can’t go fast enough!! So you can’t (here where this guy got my Tuesday idiot award) swerve in and out of the bike lane, whenever you want to, without any apparent reason (i.e. needing to turn) or without signaling. Let me know you’re gonna be bolting into my lane fuck-stick! I was calm, really. I resisted the urge to squish him like a little eco friendly bug and give his ass back to the environment he is trying to save. I think that’s the real reason. The taxes are what they are. I’m not even upset that I have to pay. If I want the right to complain about all the lovely things our amazing government does with my-our money I first have to give them some. For that matter if you don’t vote… shut the fuck up. You were given the right when you turned 18, exercise it. Take your little self down or better, read all about it pick and mail the little card in. I don’t care how you do it. But if you’re not then you have zero say when it comes time to bitch about how bad the government really is. Even if you voted for the dumb-fuck, complain away. At least by choosing to negate someone else smart choice you did something. Aaahhheemmm,,, *clears throat* I digress. What was I saying? Oh yeah… I’m feeling rather out of it. Maybe it’s lack of good sleep. Maybe I’m not getting enough exercise. Maybe the boredom and lack of challenge has finally eaten away a layer of good surrounding my brain causing me to lose functionality. Maybe I’ll go ride my bike.

“So glad I got to meet you.” Who says that to a stranger they’re not likely to interact with again? Apparently the lady that came to my desk yesterday does. Since leaving the lion’s den I haven’t had much interaction with customers of any kind. The ones I used to have, could walk in with any emotion you can think of, but always cranked up to full blast. Sometimes you’d get nice ones or calm ones… but not often. And it’s usually the nasty cranked up people that inspire memory. This woman wasn’t someone that would make an impression on you if you saw her on the street. However, when she spoke she had a quiet kindness that drew you in. You just knew that no matter how meager or grand her home is it would have an inviting feeling about it. Like the pictures of kids at grandma’s on Christmas… I was struck by the realization that this unimpressive looking woman probably has quite an impressive heart.

I have an appearance that makes some small impression (hard not to with purple/red spikey hair). I don’t care that people remember my looks. I don’t care if I get noticed (psych peeps are shaking their heads, rolling their eyes and saying…. hhmmmm, tell me about your mother) I care if I make a difference. I care if the kindness I show or the help I give leaves an impression. I care if someone, someday, writes a blog about me that is positive and not negative. …so glad to meet you… I think the pleasure was mine.