Inject the Reject

I get a momentary shock whenever I see my scalp blood red but the dye speaks only in the glimmer of light and feeling my calloused feet in the softness of our gypsy studio haven I try grounding myself my tears sought soft porous skin searching not solace but feeling it feeling it in a way that places me in my belly button and shoots me out into the clear blue of our winter sky then I can feel the stones sinking my heart into the river and the weeds I grasp onto cannot save me from drowning in this ache of abandonment insecurity lack of contact fear of connection like that intensity in my pelvis when I let you inside my soft places so I can feel your hard intentions and it's this radiant connectivity that is addiction I draw attachments to our sex like an anchor grounding my soul in your eyes and when you discredit what I might call love for attachment with your resistance backing away not wanting infinity with me I live in minute boxes called Rejection and only hear the echoing cries of no no no's.

Yes to I Am

Stole this posting off from Penny.

You Can Be Whatever You Want to Be
by Donna Levine

There is inside you
all of the potential to be whatever
...you want to be
all of the energy to do whatever
you want to do.

Imagine yourself as you would like to be,
doing what you want to do,
and each day, take one step
towards your dream.

And though at times it may seem too
difficult to continue,
hold on to your dream.

One morning you will awake to find
that you are the person
you dreamed of
doing what you wanted to do
simply because you had the courage
to believe in your potential
and to hold on to your dream.

The Wanting Game

Here, I'm going to evaluate what is that I truly want
whether or not it is going to still be true
and what will happen if the want gets fulfilled.

Alright. Let's do this.




Today I am going home. From home, I will pick up:
- camera charger x
- external hard drive x
- hot water boiler, if possible
- food: granola, milk, yogurt, fruit, vegetables, dried foods, tea x
- Love Actually x
- luggage + clothes x
--- which includes: more underwear, t-shirts, leggings, sweats, blouses, boots, flats, running shoes, socks, jeans
- hygiene stuff: panty liners, pads, shampoo, callous foot scrubber, loofah x
- hair dryer, if possible x
- my perfume x




My diet has been fluctuating since I've gone on the pill and became a gypsy. A big part of it is my lack of exercise and my stress levels; another is - whenever I have food, I BINGE eat.
[disciplinary eating routine here]
*** May consider eating + exercise schedule here. ***

- dairy is limited - milk has to be whole milk (good protein in whole that is taken out in reduced or non-fat milk); will consider drinking coconut milk, a whole milk or goat's milk for yogurt, cottage cheese, but will avoid other cheeses
- no nuts, avoid soy except tofu (small amounts)
- look for gluten-free products
- fruits including lots of citrus, Malus fruits (apples, pears, etc.), bananas, berries
- vegetables including lettuce, sprouts, green beans, broccoli, asparagus (this list can go on forever, I love vegetables)
- meat - this is a hard one for me; I can probably cook most fish and like 'em, chicken sometimes, other kind of meats not so much; I'm not going to pretend to be a vegetarian anymore, and at the same time, I'm not going to force myself to eat meat when I don't want to

+ mornings usually look like a cold dairy breakfast for me - I love eating cereal and milk, granola and yogurt with as much fruit as I can cram, cottage cheese dolloped on a fruit bowl; flaxseed and protein powder can always be added to this to kickstart my day --- MUST learn how to eat breakfast regularly (even today, I haven't had breakfast... or lunch)
+ dinner is usually easy to prepare if I have time - lunch is a whole 'nother story; if I have lunch at work, it would have to be VERY conscious... to be explored

exercise: the one thing that inspires me, as well as gives me the right amount of discipline is yoga - in a class - everyday; this: http://www.trubates.com/ shows me my options; but doing yoga classes will add onto my bill of expenses :(




goals / things for 2011
- to be clear on what I want with money: what I want to do with money, what is essential, how do I help myself and others with it, how to budget, watch where my money flows to
- write for an hour everyday: if I can sit down and write without pause for an hour straight everyday, I can access a flow of writing that can only get better
- read a book a week: 2010 was a year of loosely reading, never finishing, not practicing enough curiosity and too much Facebook; it is time to get my imagination and curiosity juices a flowin'; can't wait to start taking the bus to work (1 hour long bus ride = 1 hour of read time)
- cut down Facebook time: check for messages, your favorite people's pages, click on only three links, GET OUT; I realize that sounds nuts, but the more agreements that I make with discipline, the better
- call my mom once a week: before she calls me once a month, fuming, upset, pent up; I realize that a lot of my relationship is agonizing waiting for her to call me - I'm going to muster up the courage to WANT to call her out of curiosity and love; let's set this up as my ritual Sunday morning (after reading/writing/exercise, of course!)




money flow (monthly):
$200 credit cards
$60 student debt
$50 health card debt
$50 cell phone bill
$15 Netflix
$100 transportation ($4 bus X's 5 days/week = $20)
$x miscellaneous (goddamn) parking tickets... to be slowly paid off
~ around $500 in accruing debt / ongoing bills
holy shit
I could do without Netflix, certainly
I could downgrade my phone, although that would be shite
not much else to do here
here are the other approximate essentials:
- food
- shelter
If I live minimally, (with Elizabeth, helping out with food, etc.), I would still be spending half of my paycheck every month (approx. $800). This only leaves me around that same amount for moving out to a bigger place - leaving me living from paycheck to paycheck. ***epidemic*** Now I just need to figure out how to make more money... bartending gig... sugar daddy... $200 blowjobs... throw me a bone here!




Updating, continuously.

My Salsa Recipe

This recipe has been proven to be addictive. :)

This serves ... A LOT. If you don't want a big serving, cut down all ingredients down to half, and even then you'll have salsa to eat for half a week. Also, you may want to cut the amount of the chili peppers to half if you can't handle the burn.




7 roasted tomatoes
5 diced fresh tomatoes
2 red onions
5 red hot chili peppers
1 lime
cilantro

1. Roast the tomatoes. Make sure they're completely cool out of the oven before adding to the blend.
2. Put the tomatoes and the red onions into the food processor and blend.
3. Add the chili peppers, and sugar/salt to taste.
4. Blend the roasted tomatoes into the mix.
5. Add the lime.
6. Continue to adjust to taste with sugar/salt.

Imma Lady

I want to have a girl's day out.

A hair trim.

Pedicure. Callouses begone!

A good wax.

Home Ver 20.11

I want to live with Elizabeth.

Two bedroom home.

Kitchen with a gas stove.

A bathtub.

Our walls will be housing a library.

A closet big enough to house all of my shoes.

(I also want my flat screen and a new surround system. This is a bit harder to accomplish.)

Black Fighting Swan

I want to see the movies that are in the Oscar running race.

All day movie hopping.
Stuffing my face with popcorn.
And getting impacted.

Movies I want to see:

The Illusionist (animated)
Black Swan
The Fighter
True Grit
The King's Speech
Blue Valentine
Love and Other Drugs
The Kids are All Right
The Social Network
Barney's Version

Apply it Gently to the Love you Lent Me

I am a Thief - Loomis' Writing to Self

1. I will stay away from looking at opposition & instead focus on creative motion that does not utilize repulsion.

2. I can move beyond others, but I must do so maturely, staying connected to what uplifts the moment rather than running away feeling.

3. I will not get sad about weaknesses in a situation. I will instead celebrate some aspect that has beauty. I can generate satisfaction within limitation.

4. Once I accept what is gracefully, I can then attract something for all involved with faith in fullness, yet acceptance and pleasure in what is. I can adjust to what is needed & still have my life.

5. Whatever I do, I need to find a deep feeling of connection. I can receive or appreciate what is available.

6. Each day I will imagine myself being stroked into a state of tenderness & submission that evokes new beauty to arise. I will release beauty that has become complicated or twisted by feeling what is not compatible. As I practice tender surrender I will touch myself to find exactly what is right for me. In this process I will regestate who I am - birthing myself in a way that is compassionate & self-loving.

On Slowness

I am a slug.
Or rather - like the slow moving cats that sit on Elizabeth's dressers.
They are simply more likable than the slug.
Like me, every once in a while, they move - sometimes sudden.
This act of movement shows me that they are alive.

So now, I am a cat.

The kind that sits in one place.
She cannot move, she cannot speak.
She starts to write,
because it is the only ability
available to her pace and lack of living.

Because her emotions overwhelm her.
She doesn't know why she feels the way she feels.
She doesn't know where it has come from.
She checks her physical body -
she has learned that this sort of ailment
is connected to all of her bodies,
and her physical gives her the most outward shame.
So she traps it, berates it,
because there is still a part of her
that thinks it'll feel better when she hates her body.
The physical body usually does not respond to this hate.
It does not respond now. It is lackluster.

However, it is the emotional body
that keeps her
trapped inside doorways
in a white room that lasts forever
and she cannot see the next place
that proves that she is living.

In this room, there is no divider.
She either sleeps so that the days and nights
come together, and therefore there is no separation;
or she doesn't sleep, so all days and nights become one.

When she does not sleep,
she dreams, but the dreaming is what keeps her
in these white spaces.
The dreams are unreal, fantastical -
there, she is perfect,
her living is immaculate,
every inch of how she upholds herself
is Ultimately Cindy
in the fullest of her potential,
talent, gait, and desirability.
Those she loves openly loves her.
Those she loves deeply is deeply in love with her.
Here, she is both giving and selfish
and admired for both traits.
She does what she wants and everyone is okay.
And she is never lonely,
even when she is alone,
because that means she is creating.
And her creating is monumental.

When she does sleep,
she only dreams of white boxes.
They are comforting,
out of her control,
and they take care of her.
Upon wakening, the stifling mess of reality
usually puts her right back to sleep -
until the overwhelming guilt of not being awake
will force her to be "awake,"
so she'll sleepwalk through her days,
carrying white boxes.

I'm noticing that I can only address
my relationship with my depression
in the third person, and in story.
(I couldn't write the 'd' word for two minutes.)

My body is now experiencing nausea,
a heavy head, the desire to roll into a fetus.
I want to feel safe,
but safety or security
is a false prison -
and I know when I'm alive,
I want to be more than safe.

For now,

I am a cat.

My Kind of Family: the heArt of Giving in Community

It was four hours into the new year. I was crossing the Richmond bridge in maleficent rain. The world occurred to be flooding; the rare vehicle appearing out of the darkness was also blindly navigating this post-apocalyptic water world. It wasn't the pounding sheets of wet weather that kept me wide-eyed and occupied at this late (or early to some) hour. Replaying my memory - the one that has forced me to drive through three counties at 4:18am - I had been indulging in feelings that I've been saving in a tightly wounded ball under my sternum. I was finally fucking angry - and I wanted the world to know.

An hour earlier, I was being stirred awake by a male voice telling me he wanted to sleep. I was confused; this wasn't Elizabeth who was sleeping beside me in Keli's bed. A second later, I recognized Mihai's voice. Groggy and agitated, I slowly sat up. He stood awkwardly in the doorway. Elizabeth coughed violently at the edge of the bed. She had been sick, hence our quiet New Year's evening. The lights had been left on and my eyes could barely open to the brightness. My agitation heightened with my vision. My thoughts bended towards self-victimizing - and the blame was quick: How dare Mihai just kick me/us out of bed!? My body went numb with anger. Has he no decency? No sense of family and consideration and most of all - Love?! The loss of physical feeling kept me glued onto the bed. Elizabeth's voice then rang out sharp, "will you please leave the room so we can get out of bed?" That jerked me out of my internal rage. She was angry, too, and not afraid to show it. Mihai left the room without a word. She faced me, her eyes furrowed in fury. What a jerk! we agreed with our nonverbal communication. A couple of minutes later, we were outside on slick SOMA sidewalk ducking under overhangs to get to my car. The last image I had as I left was Mihai closing Keli's door on us the moment we cleared the space. Pure indignation I felt.

In the car, Elizabeth confided a moment she had with Mihai when they were shuffling in the hallway. She had spat in his face, "you self-entitled prick." Through the San Francisco city streets of late night drinkers and celebrators, we fumed heavily about what happened. We couldn't believe that a supposed friend would do something like that, especially a peer in a community that recently expressed the want for individuals to become closer. I dropped her off at home and mapped out my course to Kensington. We were still shaking with anger.

I took Park Presidio to the Golden Gate Bridge. I breathed deeper, even as the rain barricaded my car even more furiously and my back tightened in anxiety. I dropped into understanding the situation - something I did so often with forced willingness that I usually never reacted or felt anger as I had just did. He had asked Keli for her bedroom, and therefore he felt like he had a right to it. He may have felt bad, but wanted to assert his boundaries for the bed. Okay. That still doesn't feel good. My judgments kicked in. I'm glad he asserted his boundaries - but does he even care? Is he even human - with a heart? I thought of something Dara once wrote to me. He was learning how to establish his boundaries "without the use of heavy weaponry." This has been a lifelong challenge for him; we worked on it in relationship together when I was 19. We can't walk around with walls holding ourselves in with cannons and spikes poking out, we had agreed. At least if we wanted to open ourselves to true love, intimacy, and deeper connection. There is no real friendship and closeness and family in tank driving.

At this point, I sank deeper into my sullenness. I am forced to believe that Mihai doesn't want to be closer to me. I can accept this as a consequence of his actions. I explored self-accountability - something that had been on my mind during this entire trial. If I was self-accountable for tonight, I should have talked to Keli about staying at the annex. Wait. She knows I stay there - it's the closest thing I have to home right now, and my belongings are there. Should I have been more aware that Mihai was staying there? Should I have been more proactive in protecting my own boundaries - had said something to Keli about my situation, which I wasn't clear that she had full knowledge of?

My thoughts flowed towards Keli... there was residue resentment towards her. She could have considered me when allowing Mihai staying here, but that's not her job. She mentioned that he was leading workshops and I marked down when to avoid the annex. Out of anyone, she preached self-accountability, although it would be nice that she thought of me, ever. I found my can of worms with Keli and my hands tightened on the steering wheel. But she doesn't think of me. Unless I was available to help her, like moving out Mihai's shit or taking her to pick up her sister from the airport. I was always happy to help her out, not because I felt that there needed be an exchange of resources, but simply because I love her and I want to be closer to her, be Family. And I know that Keli preaches building Family - she openly wants that too. In that respect, she has made gestures to make me feel welcome in the space, and I found her loving as a sister. This wasn't always the case.

The week prior she had asked me to borrow my car to pick up her sister. It was Christmastime that I was getting my tires replaced so that Mojica could drive my car to L.A. I tried to figure out the exact time she needed my car as to make it work. On the day that her sister was flying in, I was emotionally upset, releasing the stress of having no money and no home. Mojica was drained: Christmas was here and he was busy preparing for L.A. I attempted to contact Keli repeatedly that day. She answered sparingly and her answers weren't concise enough for me to understand what she wanted. Despite this, we were able to make enough plans; and Mojica and I stirred up the willingness to meet her at the annex. We drove to the airport, picked up her sister, and found a place that served food late night Christmas Eve. I was worried about Mojica, who was tired and had to drive to L.A. the next morning, but he gives so willingly and I've always trust him to say 'no.' We had a good time, and laughed, and everyone went home content.

On Christmas Day, I found out that Keli was at the movies with a group of our mutual friends. A rock sat in my throat, and from jealousy, exclusion, a whirlwind of hurt, I expressed my upset to her, to which she deflected with the belief that I wouldn't have been interested or was busy. I think in truth, she simply had forgotten about me, but didn't admit to it. It wasn't until I was reflecting with Mojica later that I discovered that she had related to me in using my resources, but didn't care about me to invite me to a movie with our friends. The pain of that sort of exclusion made me feel like I didn't want to be her friend, that she wasn't practicing being closer to me, even though I had gone out of my way to be closer to her. In this situation, self-accountability meant that I wasn't good enough for her to think of me as a friend in order to be invited to the movies. That doesn't feel good. Of course, I didn't know if this was true; I had to connect with Keli and clear with her on how I've felt.

Mojica processed with me. He observed about the distance he felt from members in community, [in paraphrase]:

So I invite them over to my home. I sit them down to my table and I prepare them dinner. I give them their servings, and invite them to eat. They taste my food, make a face, and exclaim, "What is this? Why am I eating this?" in disgust/disdain. So in giving with my heart open, not only am I not appreciated, but attacked for what it is that I do out of love.

This made me feel terrible. I stifled a sob as I cleared the Richmond bridge. There isn't always support in giving or loving. This is the sad truth I was approaching - the vulnerability of it all. I thought of Mojica's courage. He had once said that he gave freely, even in knowledge that he was being taken advantage of, and completely because he loves and cares. I created a scenario. Even if Keli didn't think of me as a friend, if she was in need tomorrow, I would still support her. Because I love her.

In that moment, I received a text from Elizabeth.

I should've made you stay here. I forgot who I was dealing with - that it's a trick for you to ask. My apologies, darlin'.

I began sobbing openly, driving half past 4am on New Year's in a torrid storm. She cared enough to Know me, self-accountability or no. She reached out continuously, even since the beginning of our relationship. I understood. I would still love with my heart open, despite the hurt. I would still do what felt right, walls down, weaponry set aside. I was suddenly grateful. The anger that I had been experiencing was my own discernment of actions done to me that was Not Okay. I can now see the Not Okay! My boundaries! I was learning, Growing, and taking care of myself. I felt the distinctions of who felt like family, such as Mojica and Elizabeth, those who gave in pure love and care for one another, without need for fairness, measurements in resources, self-accountability. And that is Family. My Family.

As I'm writing this, I'm breaking down. This transition - finding the Ground in Myself - God, has this never been true before? Have I been so interwoven in my family dynamics that I have never truly Wanted or Thought or Cared for myself before?

I am grateful for this new year. I am grateful for family.

"in 2011 I want to be stable in a job, with a space of my own, actively seeking family, taking care of my heart and body, have the courage to reach out to people when I want to, and discerning what is best for me"