As you may recall, one of the essential aspects of Atman is its timeless nature. Like God, each of us is an eternal being, yet we've been deluded into believing that we are finite. Each of us has bought a piece of real estate in the world of time, and it has been a very bad investment.
We live our lives as if there were a beginning and an end to who we are, and we live as if death were the only thing certain in this world. Indeed, from a bodily point of view, we live very much in time...
In many ways, time is the bedrock on which the rest of maya is built...
This is why it's exceedingly difficult to transcend time. Time is so much a part of our psyche that we may wonder why we would even want to transcend it. But time, when used by ego, is a weapon that keeps us in fear...
As a matter of fact, time was a key part of Albert Einstein's theory of relativity. He was once asked to explain this complex theory in terms that the common person could understand. He said, "One minute with your hand on a hot stove would seem like an hour, whereas one hour kissing the woman you love will seem like one minute. That's relativity."
Because our true nature is eternal, the ego needs to keep the mind separate from eternity in order to keep us searching for peace without possibility of success. In order for a person to be separate, he or she must have a beginning and an end. Likewise, in order for us to be limited, time is a prerequisite. In this sense, time is the glue that holds the illusion together.
Just as in every other aspect of yoga, we cannot transcend time by our denial. People try to escape the effects of time by using cosmetics and buying fast cars. Of course, none of this works. In effect, when we try to deny the seeming reality of time, we simply make it appear more real.
To a yogi, time is not bad. Actually, time is very useful while we are here in this illusion. Time creates a space for evolution to take place, and offers each of us the opportunity to keep trying things until we finally choose the peace of our true nature over the insanity of the ego. Again, time is not bad; it's simply not real.
Rather than make time good or bad, yoga helps us to let go of the need for time. This can only be done in the present moment. Just as sensation was the door that led from the external world to our inner world, the practice of dharana (focus... being in the moment) leads us through the door of the present moment into the realm of eternity.
The ego seeks to have us live in the past or in the future because we will never find eternity there. That's why every mystical tradition places such strong emphasis on staying present. The present moment is the only time when we can enter into eternal bliss. Englightenment is not something that comes after many lifetimes; it's a decision we make now.
Choosing Reality
"Reshape yourself through the power of the will; never let yourself be degraded by self-will. The will is the only friend of the Self, and the will is the only enemy of the Self."
In the movie Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Quigon, a Jedi knight, reminds his young student, Anakin, "Your focus determines your reality." ... His advice might well have come from a yogi, because it's a fundamental aspect of yogic philosophy that one's mental focus affects reality.
Because the practice of dharana helps us to live more and more in the present moment, we are able to determine the reality in which we find ourselves... The deeper benefits of concentrating your mind in the present moment involve a conscious choice of your reality.
Each of us has created our own reality... Until a person starts on the spiritual path, life seems to happen by accident or by fate, but as we become more and more present to life, we see that life is a series of choices that are made in the present moment. For just that reason it's important to bring focus to the present moment. Changing your mind, and consequently changing your reality, can only happen in the present moment. We can spend a lot of time regretting or feeling nostalgic about the past. We can fantasize about the future or live in fear of it. But both the past and the future are illusions. The past is gone and the future is nonexistent. Therefore, the only time that exists is now. Because the eternal now is the only time there is, it's the only place where we can change our minds, and the practice of dharana bring us to this present state of mind.
...
At a family reunion, my cousin told me about each of her husbands, and I noticed a pattern. Each of her husbands had left her for another woman. This series of negative experiences had left her with the opinion that "men are all jerks." Rather than be insulted by being lumped into the 'jerk' category because of my gender, I decided to explore this belief with her...
As she continued to tell me about all her bad relationship luck, I could see her dipping deeper and deeper into an ego drama that had a bad tailspin. Since self-pity is like nails on a chalkboard for me, I decided to confront her...
"If you believe that all men are jerks and pigs, you're going to see that everywhere. But if you start to change your mind, I think you'll find that the men you meet in the future will be quite well adjusted and respectful. The key is to change your mind now, rather than wait for some future prince charming to do it for you."
Like my mother's cousin, we're all directing our focus out into the world and seeing the results. If we focus on cheating husbands or negative experiences, that's what we'll unconsciously create in our lives. But if we learn to focus our attention on things that support us and cultivate a spiritual base on which to stand, we'll find more positive experiences.
There's more than just wishful thinking here. How we focus the mind determines how our reality will unfold. This is such an important facet of our spiritual path. Until we learn to focus the mind on the present moment and make conscious choices, we will always be waiting for the better hand to be dealt us, and even if we get a good hand, we'll live in fear of the next round, because luck has a funny way of running out at the worst possible time. That's why it's so important to see that life is not about luck or fate, but rather about choice.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
disappearances
"How can I disappear?" she wondered. She was 30 years old, and there appeared to be no invisibility cloaks. This was a material world, and here she was. A spirit trapped in a state of being in love.
There had been no true anger, no dislike, no unattraction, no misfired chemistry, no incompatibilities whatsoever.
He said about his relationship with his wife, who he hadn't shared a bed with for 20 years, "Nothing's perfect."
But they were. She was 30. He was 57. And it was perfect. There didn't need to be any words for her to be full of delight just looking at him and his expressions. Her spirit just loved him. More than any other spirit on the planet. And if she couldn't love him, what was she supposed to do on the planet?
There was another spirit who loved him, and she was his wife. But it was a very different love. It was about taking care of each other in ways that didn't seem mutual. It was about working, sleeping in separate beds, watching TV.
These weren't bad things, but the 30-year-old spirit loved him more. She knew she couldn't stop. It was only a truth. It was only herself that she knew.
(But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was an idiot. Maybe her love meant nothing at all. Maybe it was only love. Not a contract. Not years of work experience. Not... not what made him miserable. Again, he thought he should... what?)
She couldn't tell him what to do or to think. He thought he needed to take care of his wife, listen to the stories that bored him, listen to the voice that bored him as he drank Powerade, ate popcorn, looked off before remembering to put his head in his hands.
These were not bad things. But he was also in love with the 30-year-old spirit.
When he discovered her spying, he told her just for tonight. He needed to make sure his wife was okay tonight.
But they were so happy together. Or at least she was so happy with him, when he wasn't being firm, when he wasn't saying he couldn't have two relationships. He loved two people. But they were different kinds of love. One was an obligation. He was not responsible for his passion.
The 30-year-old had no choice but to love him. Even when he told her to leave. She still needed to be in his presence, even when he turned cold. For moments, she could still see him inside. But he tried to show her the cold role, the bouncer outside the doors of his heart.
He said his wife was his job. He said he wanted to do that job. He didn't want to love and play. He was too old. It didn't matter that she needed him. He wanted her to move on.
Where does a spirit in love move? It moves from hope to love to desire. It tries to move to despair, but it can't stay there.
It can cry, it can miss. But it cannot despair. It has to fight for for its own survival. It can only despair to be alive when it can't be with its beloved. The point of the earth vanishes.
The love grows while it stays fixed alone. It is limerance. It is a place where no other will do. It thinks about what it can do alone, how it can move while thinking of him. All movement involves him. She could be hospitalized, but for what? For failing to take the trip to the library for the book "Women Who Love Too Much?"
He tells her to be free, to move on, but she was already free.
The wife watches them happy in the driveway. Her spirit kind toward the needs of others this time, she tells them it's too cold outside, to come inside.
Now is the first moment he does not seem to want her around. She can't process it. It is spaghetti in a disk drive. She can't read it. She can only read love. She is disabled. There is no reason, she believes. For all the time she has known him, he has only told her reasons not to be with his wife. Now he is operating backwards. He is unhappy. He calls it surreal while acting like it's so real. She leaves in disbelief.
It started at 4 in the morning when she accidentally got locked out of her apartment. She had gone upstairs to ask the neighbor to turn down his music. She had no way into the apartment she had believed was there to be shared with him. He wasn't there. He said maybe he would move in the day before, the night before, but he hadn't been able to tell his wife. She had to call him back home, now, for the keys.
He loved her. He did. But he didn't want to hurt his wife. He didn't want to hurt anyone so he hurt the 30-year-old. He knew she would still love him, even though he told her she would move on. He told her she would forget in 10 years. She said I may be with you in 10 years. She knew she would love him for 10 years, for 20.
He said he was taking it hour by hour. His wife was in pain (that was all she knew how to express to him... that or false joy... stuffed animals... their relationship was so broken.)
He said he wanted to do this job. He was her nurse. She was only 52. He almost chased the 30-year-old away.
He even condescended. He patted her. After so many recent days of making love. He would not make love. He would make do.
He told her she would move on, but on this planet, she had no place to move. She needed him. But a girl can be alone, she can be celibate if he won't have her. She can be a yogi. She can be some kind of teacher. She, like her teacher who loved the Yogananada for 14 days, could renounce earthly love if she could not have him. If he would not grow. She would not have babies. She would not have pets.
The wife's spirit was beautiful when she saw them. There was beauty with an inability to connect beyond its own clutching to its dreams, to its work, to its own lack of intimacy. She told the same old stories. She was not looking for growth but she professed its deep belief. She needed new influences. But he could not leave unless she set him free. He was a Taurus, devoted to his Pisces.
He told the 30-year-old he couldn't meet her needs. But he already did. By existing. By sitting in the chair with the magazine. He tried to ignore her. He didn't open his gmail account. For the first time, he did not act happy to see her. But that guy was inside. That guy was always inside. The young man released in the throes of passion. The softening face no more the stern school-teacher.
He was not a stern school-teacher. But he was one now. Yesterday he made love to her. Today it was leave the premises. Listen to break-up songs. They exist for a reason. This is life.
He thought he was making both women happy. He was living a lie. Or at least two truths. But if the first truth were true, would he be part of a new story? Were there any mistakes?
He told the 30-year-old their love was more fulfilling. He told her he'd offer her a spare bedroom, but she said that's not where she'd like to sleep. Her bed in the apartment still smelled like him from yesterday. She didn't want to wash him away. She couldn't. He was imprinted. He had colored over all the love in her soul. It grew bigger, beyond her control.
But in him he contained two women--one passion, one obligation.
Obligation first told Passion herself the sexual connection should be continued. She could not give that to him. Out of love (avoidance), he tried to think of what he couldn't give his passion. He said he could not give her youth. But she had youth. She wanted him for his age. (He tried to think of himself at her age. But he was not her.) She wanted him for his brand of beauty she could find nowhere else. No one else would do.
Not a salsa dancer. Not a dog trainer. Not an artist, nor a musician. She loved films but had no need for a film-maker.
She only had the need for a life with him. For their connection.
He said it's over, it ends right here. He had said that before and come back and come back. He had made new promises. Now he said it again. His brain said practical. His brain said kill the feelings. His brain said so many things "We'll be friends." She could not. Could she change her brain? She could be alone, but she could not just be his friend. She could not take the pats, the questions about her plans, the prods toward moving on, the thing she could not do.
It was like a father, telling her she must move. She must change. She must not be who she is.
Did someone have to change? He didn't expect it of his wife. He never had. So he expected it of his Passion. Obligation wins. Passion must sizzle. But she burned. It was burn or extinguish, and there was no place to go out. They would put her in a hospital if she spoke the option too loudly. Instead, she burned. And he tried to burn her out of his life, call her something different.
But her being had to be.
It was true she did not really know his wife. His wife said she did not know herself. She knew herself through her duties, through her vision of the life she shared.
He had to participate. He couldn't, it pained him, he thought of his passion. But he sat across from his Obligation with his Powerade and popcorn.
And this story gets repetitive. Maybe someone hopes she will write it out. In time she will write it all out, and it will be gone, time for a new story.
But her heart did not work like that. She didn't forget. She didn't forget her mother, 26 years gone, and she would never forget him. She thought of places. She wondered about North Carolina, but she knew it wasn't hers.
The only thing she could make her mind up about was him. But it wasn't even her mind. It was her spirit, which had grown so much more powerful. It was gentle, but it only listened to her heart.
Her heart had grown too strong. So she sat in her bathtub and wrote with clear eyes.
Her soon-to-be ex-husband mocked her and her stupid love. He mocked her impracticality, her stupid decisions. He said he did not like her until she would leave.
Two men she had loved pushed her out two doors in one night. She called her beloved's sister. They chatted like best friends, dreamed of meeting. Even the sister-in-law thought the would have such fun together.
But he was not on board. He was obligated. He wanted the job. He'd taken it on a rebound, and despite its indifferences, its denial of his human needs, he worked the factory. He didn't need to feel.
The ex-husband made fun of feelings altogether. Dogs can feel. Animals can feel. Humans are to think, take in the whole situation.
So she lived alone in the tub, in the romance. It did not matter that she'd loved his sweaty body there. Someone else had done his laundry for 27 years. She won. Tradition, obligation. Passion was supposed to fold, not unfold. She bled on him the day before. Now she was to bleed alone. To stop it up. Find a cotton plug.
There had been no true anger, no dislike, no unattraction, no misfired chemistry, no incompatibilities whatsoever.
He said about his relationship with his wife, who he hadn't shared a bed with for 20 years, "Nothing's perfect."
But they were. She was 30. He was 57. And it was perfect. There didn't need to be any words for her to be full of delight just looking at him and his expressions. Her spirit just loved him. More than any other spirit on the planet. And if she couldn't love him, what was she supposed to do on the planet?
There was another spirit who loved him, and she was his wife. But it was a very different love. It was about taking care of each other in ways that didn't seem mutual. It was about working, sleeping in separate beds, watching TV.
These weren't bad things, but the 30-year-old spirit loved him more. She knew she couldn't stop. It was only a truth. It was only herself that she knew.
(But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was an idiot. Maybe her love meant nothing at all. Maybe it was only love. Not a contract. Not years of work experience. Not... not what made him miserable. Again, he thought he should... what?)
She couldn't tell him what to do or to think. He thought he needed to take care of his wife, listen to the stories that bored him, listen to the voice that bored him as he drank Powerade, ate popcorn, looked off before remembering to put his head in his hands.
These were not bad things. But he was also in love with the 30-year-old spirit.
When he discovered her spying, he told her just for tonight. He needed to make sure his wife was okay tonight.
But they were so happy together. Or at least she was so happy with him, when he wasn't being firm, when he wasn't saying he couldn't have two relationships. He loved two people. But they were different kinds of love. One was an obligation. He was not responsible for his passion.
The 30-year-old had no choice but to love him. Even when he told her to leave. She still needed to be in his presence, even when he turned cold. For moments, she could still see him inside. But he tried to show her the cold role, the bouncer outside the doors of his heart.
He said his wife was his job. He said he wanted to do that job. He didn't want to love and play. He was too old. It didn't matter that she needed him. He wanted her to move on.
Where does a spirit in love move? It moves from hope to love to desire. It tries to move to despair, but it can't stay there.
It can cry, it can miss. But it cannot despair. It has to fight for for its own survival. It can only despair to be alive when it can't be with its beloved. The point of the earth vanishes.
The love grows while it stays fixed alone. It is limerance. It is a place where no other will do. It thinks about what it can do alone, how it can move while thinking of him. All movement involves him. She could be hospitalized, but for what? For failing to take the trip to the library for the book "Women Who Love Too Much?"
He tells her to be free, to move on, but she was already free.
The wife watches them happy in the driveway. Her spirit kind toward the needs of others this time, she tells them it's too cold outside, to come inside.
Now is the first moment he does not seem to want her around. She can't process it. It is spaghetti in a disk drive. She can't read it. She can only read love. She is disabled. There is no reason, she believes. For all the time she has known him, he has only told her reasons not to be with his wife. Now he is operating backwards. He is unhappy. He calls it surreal while acting like it's so real. She leaves in disbelief.
It started at 4 in the morning when she accidentally got locked out of her apartment. She had gone upstairs to ask the neighbor to turn down his music. She had no way into the apartment she had believed was there to be shared with him. He wasn't there. He said maybe he would move in the day before, the night before, but he hadn't been able to tell his wife. She had to call him back home, now, for the keys.
He loved her. He did. But he didn't want to hurt his wife. He didn't want to hurt anyone so he hurt the 30-year-old. He knew she would still love him, even though he told her she would move on. He told her she would forget in 10 years. She said I may be with you in 10 years. She knew she would love him for 10 years, for 20.
He said he was taking it hour by hour. His wife was in pain (that was all she knew how to express to him... that or false joy... stuffed animals... their relationship was so broken.)
He said he wanted to do this job. He was her nurse. She was only 52. He almost chased the 30-year-old away.
He even condescended. He patted her. After so many recent days of making love. He would not make love. He would make do.
He told her she would move on, but on this planet, she had no place to move. She needed him. But a girl can be alone, she can be celibate if he won't have her. She can be a yogi. She can be some kind of teacher. She, like her teacher who loved the Yogananada for 14 days, could renounce earthly love if she could not have him. If he would not grow. She would not have babies. She would not have pets.
The wife's spirit was beautiful when she saw them. There was beauty with an inability to connect beyond its own clutching to its dreams, to its work, to its own lack of intimacy. She told the same old stories. She was not looking for growth but she professed its deep belief. She needed new influences. But he could not leave unless she set him free. He was a Taurus, devoted to his Pisces.
He told the 30-year-old he couldn't meet her needs. But he already did. By existing. By sitting in the chair with the magazine. He tried to ignore her. He didn't open his gmail account. For the first time, he did not act happy to see her. But that guy was inside. That guy was always inside. The young man released in the throes of passion. The softening face no more the stern school-teacher.
He was not a stern school-teacher. But he was one now. Yesterday he made love to her. Today it was leave the premises. Listen to break-up songs. They exist for a reason. This is life.
He thought he was making both women happy. He was living a lie. Or at least two truths. But if the first truth were true, would he be part of a new story? Were there any mistakes?
He told the 30-year-old their love was more fulfilling. He told her he'd offer her a spare bedroom, but she said that's not where she'd like to sleep. Her bed in the apartment still smelled like him from yesterday. She didn't want to wash him away. She couldn't. He was imprinted. He had colored over all the love in her soul. It grew bigger, beyond her control.
But in him he contained two women--one passion, one obligation.
Obligation first told Passion herself the sexual connection should be continued. She could not give that to him. Out of love (avoidance), he tried to think of what he couldn't give his passion. He said he could not give her youth. But she had youth. She wanted him for his age. (He tried to think of himself at her age. But he was not her.) She wanted him for his brand of beauty she could find nowhere else. No one else would do.
Not a salsa dancer. Not a dog trainer. Not an artist, nor a musician. She loved films but had no need for a film-maker.
She only had the need for a life with him. For their connection.
He said it's over, it ends right here. He had said that before and come back and come back. He had made new promises. Now he said it again. His brain said practical. His brain said kill the feelings. His brain said so many things "We'll be friends." She could not. Could she change her brain? She could be alone, but she could not just be his friend. She could not take the pats, the questions about her plans, the prods toward moving on, the thing she could not do.
It was like a father, telling her she must move. She must change. She must not be who she is.
Did someone have to change? He didn't expect it of his wife. He never had. So he expected it of his Passion. Obligation wins. Passion must sizzle. But she burned. It was burn or extinguish, and there was no place to go out. They would put her in a hospital if she spoke the option too loudly. Instead, she burned. And he tried to burn her out of his life, call her something different.
But her being had to be.
It was true she did not really know his wife. His wife said she did not know herself. She knew herself through her duties, through her vision of the life she shared.
He had to participate. He couldn't, it pained him, he thought of his passion. But he sat across from his Obligation with his Powerade and popcorn.
And this story gets repetitive. Maybe someone hopes she will write it out. In time she will write it all out, and it will be gone, time for a new story.
But her heart did not work like that. She didn't forget. She didn't forget her mother, 26 years gone, and she would never forget him. She thought of places. She wondered about North Carolina, but she knew it wasn't hers.
The only thing she could make her mind up about was him. But it wasn't even her mind. It was her spirit, which had grown so much more powerful. It was gentle, but it only listened to her heart.
Her heart had grown too strong. So she sat in her bathtub and wrote with clear eyes.
Her soon-to-be ex-husband mocked her and her stupid love. He mocked her impracticality, her stupid decisions. He said he did not like her until she would leave.
Two men she had loved pushed her out two doors in one night. She called her beloved's sister. They chatted like best friends, dreamed of meeting. Even the sister-in-law thought the would have such fun together.
But he was not on board. He was obligated. He wanted the job. He'd taken it on a rebound, and despite its indifferences, its denial of his human needs, he worked the factory. He didn't need to feel.
The ex-husband made fun of feelings altogether. Dogs can feel. Animals can feel. Humans are to think, take in the whole situation.
So she lived alone in the tub, in the romance. It did not matter that she'd loved his sweaty body there. Someone else had done his laundry for 27 years. She won. Tradition, obligation. Passion was supposed to fold, not unfold. She bled on him the day before. Now she was to bleed alone. To stop it up. Find a cotton plug.
Friday, November 21, 2008
i'm learning
that life is not just about how you feel about yourself. it is also about how you feel about the people in your life. that determines your existence.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
achy breaky grapefruit
skipped the reading... too tired to sit there. needed to walk. walked to store. had $1.26. bought a grapefruit. too tired to type more. off to watch black robe. it's like for school. can't wait to kitten-sit. by which i do not mean sit on a kitten. i love kittens.
around campus
i've been craving chicken. you have to feed your cravings, i guess. eating some chicken parmesagna from sbarro in the union, i realized i'm feeling pretty comfortable alone. i ate that chicken alone just as comfortably as i've ever eaten with another person. and i wasn't really "alone." with my brain still functioning and all, i had myself to talk to. women friends of mine have been saying forever it's not bad being alone, you've got to get comfortable that way, and increasingly i'm seeing the wisdom of their ways.
as i wake up from whatever protective devices i constructed to enable me to get through this transition, i am noticing a lot of cats. yesterday it was a kitten. today it was what seemed like a big mancoon cat. on campus, they don't want to be touched. but i see them everywhere. this led me to think maybe i need one of the six cats we accumulated during our 7 years together... i went to get miso today, but clint told me there would no returns (unlike the dog who i'm free to take intermittently). i held miso and loved him. but, still not in the habit of doing my own dishes, i thought "am i really ready for kitty litter every day?" i decided no.
but, then serendipity happened. chris, a woman i enjoy in class, came back today after being gone for a week. i struck up conversation during break and learned that she'd going to alabama next week to see her husband's family but doesn't know what she'll do with her kitten. yay. i offered to kitten-sit. i feel like one week of a kitten is all i need. it seemed the perfect exchange. we'll see if her husband will go for it. i swear, i need just one week of kitten. then i'll see what comes next.
biding my time before a reading by mimi schwartz, whose memoir "notes from a queen-sized bed" i read a few years ago and enjoyed, despite wondering about the fact that she wrote about affairs she had but is till married... i guess she has a new memoir out... how many books can one write about their life? i guess i'm in admiration. i live in some cross between "another book" and "really, you think i should write one?" i guess that's my perogative... went to the sheldon after my chicken to check out latino art. if i taught spanish at an arts school, i would think that would be a great field trip. they had too much free food there. totally made me regret the chicken i paid for.
i had some dessert... a little lime bar wedge, some pineapple and strawberries dipped in a pineapple sauce with tapioca consistency... then the juice they had was a orange/pineapple cross.. i didn't even try the chips with various wonderful dips... i decided this free food that would otherwise be so appetizing is kind of like how a person feels when they're in love but surrounded by young men... oh, you look great, and i can appreciate that, but i am full. in this case, at least a little dessert didn't hurt much.
anyways, off to the reading soon. doesn't start for 45 minutes, and i'll see lesley there. not sure exactly why i'm blogging... old habits die hard... talked to my dad... he was fun. we seem very in sync right now. it's fun. back to walk and cat-hunt until the lady talks about her book...
as i wake up from whatever protective devices i constructed to enable me to get through this transition, i am noticing a lot of cats. yesterday it was a kitten. today it was what seemed like a big mancoon cat. on campus, they don't want to be touched. but i see them everywhere. this led me to think maybe i need one of the six cats we accumulated during our 7 years together... i went to get miso today, but clint told me there would no returns (unlike the dog who i'm free to take intermittently). i held miso and loved him. but, still not in the habit of doing my own dishes, i thought "am i really ready for kitty litter every day?" i decided no.
but, then serendipity happened. chris, a woman i enjoy in class, came back today after being gone for a week. i struck up conversation during break and learned that she'd going to alabama next week to see her husband's family but doesn't know what she'll do with her kitten. yay. i offered to kitten-sit. i feel like one week of a kitten is all i need. it seemed the perfect exchange. we'll see if her husband will go for it. i swear, i need just one week of kitten. then i'll see what comes next.
biding my time before a reading by mimi schwartz, whose memoir "notes from a queen-sized bed" i read a few years ago and enjoyed, despite wondering about the fact that she wrote about affairs she had but is till married... i guess she has a new memoir out... how many books can one write about their life? i guess i'm in admiration. i live in some cross between "another book" and "really, you think i should write one?" i guess that's my perogative... went to the sheldon after my chicken to check out latino art. if i taught spanish at an arts school, i would think that would be a great field trip. they had too much free food there. totally made me regret the chicken i paid for.
i had some dessert... a little lime bar wedge, some pineapple and strawberries dipped in a pineapple sauce with tapioca consistency... then the juice they had was a orange/pineapple cross.. i didn't even try the chips with various wonderful dips... i decided this free food that would otherwise be so appetizing is kind of like how a person feels when they're in love but surrounded by young men... oh, you look great, and i can appreciate that, but i am full. in this case, at least a little dessert didn't hurt much.
anyways, off to the reading soon. doesn't start for 45 minutes, and i'll see lesley there. not sure exactly why i'm blogging... old habits die hard... talked to my dad... he was fun. we seem very in sync right now. it's fun. back to walk and cat-hunt until the lady talks about her book...
tuesday afternoon w/ kyla
roxana, another good yoga teacher (and pscyh prof friend of mine at scc) comes back from a long stay in europe today. the poor lady was stuck in some kind of yoga retreat in spain.
liz predicts roxana will return to declare: "i've been a prisoner in a yoga camp."
this made me laugh and laugh and laugh.
liz predicts roxana will return to declare: "i've been a prisoner in a yoga camp."
this made me laugh and laugh and laugh.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
better note
just to not have my last blog entry be a sad note, it was a song from a group i discovered or was made known to me when i was a junior in high school.
things are better, though. my dear friends cindy and zulaika in san francisco were saying they'd like to live vicariously through me upon hearing that my professor, joy, asked me if i was going to apply for the phd in creative writing and encouraged me to do so.
i got a lot of support in class tonight and am proud of the revisions i made on my essay. people were very kind. most people read my 33+ essay and enjoyed it. it was really good to be able to share my experiences... people wanted to read more, and it appears i have a lot of material to work with in further creative writing studies... i'm proud of the work i did and the relationships that are developing in that class...
off to help other people with their essays as a reader...
the weather in nebraska just doesn't matter when your soul is being fed.
things are better, though. my dear friends cindy and zulaika in san francisco were saying they'd like to live vicariously through me upon hearing that my professor, joy, asked me if i was going to apply for the phd in creative writing and encouraged me to do so.
i got a lot of support in class tonight and am proud of the revisions i made on my essay. people were very kind. most people read my 33+ essay and enjoyed it. it was really good to be able to share my experiences... people wanted to read more, and it appears i have a lot of material to work with in further creative writing studies... i'm proud of the work i did and the relationships that are developing in that class...
off to help other people with their essays as a reader...
the weather in nebraska just doesn't matter when your soul is being fed.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
blue moon ghetto, "shine all the time"
there was a string of pearls
and i gave them to the sky
and i honestly, honestly tried
to play the games that you designed.
emotional swings leave us left
leave us left with only desire
and we swing around alive
and it's only alive
if love stays alive.
oh, you know you're not really alive
you're just a shadow falling behind
oh, no matter how much you try
you can't make the sun shine all the time
and i turned away
oh, you started to say
what a dream, what a dream, a dream it could be
and i shifted my eyes
oh, and i tried to be kind
when there's no one, and there's no hope
and there's nothing new, there's nothing new to believe.
**** (bridge)
so where, where are you now?
where are you now?
we are wondering wondering how
how to fall down on your knees
and finally admit all the things you believe
and oh you know you're not really alive
you're just a shadow falling behind
you know no matter how much you try, try, try, try
you can't make the sunshine all the time
and i turn away
oh, you started to say, what a dream, what a dream, a dream it could be
and i shifted my eyes
oh, and i tried to be kind
when there's no one, and there's no hope
and there's nothing left, nothing left to believe.
and i gave them to the sky
and i honestly, honestly tried
to play the games that you designed.
emotional swings leave us left
leave us left with only desire
and we swing around alive
and it's only alive
if love stays alive.
oh, you know you're not really alive
you're just a shadow falling behind
oh, no matter how much you try
you can't make the sun shine all the time
and i turned away
oh, you started to say
what a dream, what a dream, a dream it could be
and i shifted my eyes
oh, and i tried to be kind
when there's no one, and there's no hope
and there's nothing new, there's nothing new to believe.
**** (bridge)
so where, where are you now?
where are you now?
we are wondering wondering how
how to fall down on your knees
and finally admit all the things you believe
and oh you know you're not really alive
you're just a shadow falling behind
you know no matter how much you try, try, try, try
you can't make the sunshine all the time
and i turn away
oh, you started to say, what a dream, what a dream, a dream it could be
and i shifted my eyes
oh, and i tried to be kind
when there's no one, and there's no hope
and there's nothing left, nothing left to believe.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
a new place
i am not sure what is going to happen. i am completely unsure. but i am starting to accept the fact that every day life changes. and we never know what's going to happen next. if we can get to a place where we're calm and balanced about being in the world, that's a very lucky thing. i recently fell deeply in love. what should i say about that?
that kind of feeling gives you a lot of hope. but the deeper the love gets, so does one's need to be with their beloved. and sometimes there are seeming complications that say, hey, are you crazy, this love won't work? what are you doing?
in my case, that voice doesn't tell me to stop. sometimes it tells me to hide. sometimes it hides me without my knowing it. sometimes it tells me to be scared. it tells me to be angry when i'm not getting the attention i think i deserve. but when you love somebody you really want to be with, you wait for the voice to get calmer. it can still be pretty insistent about what it wants. but i hope mine gets calmer.
either way, i hope i can get to a calmer place. i think i might drop that travel writing class by monday because it doesn't help me get to the calm place. but it also does challenge me. but i think it's too much. i think i need to drop that class. which would mean that i'm not applying for the phd right now. see, that would be upsetting to me, so i guess i have to keep trying.
the message right now in general is that i have to keep trying. i have to try to get back to the good place where i was before i met this person, but now they are so deep in my heart that it is hard to be in the good place without this person. that is what is so hard. that person caused me to be in the happiest place ever, where happiest was dripping off me like i was a teacake. and now it is really a struggle. and so some people say if this guy isn't going to be with you, if he is telling you that, which it seems that he is, you have to get out of there.
this means that i have to move to san francisco. i don't think that's just a week away. i think that's not enough time. i can't imagine being ready to do it. i wonder if this guy really does want to be with me, and when he will know if he can make it happen. i mean, i don't understand how he couldn't. that's the part that is so difficult. and does he want to be with me? i mean when you love someone, well, you want their love for you to be of the kind where they would do anything to be with you. i would do anything to be with this person. i mean that's just what love is, isn't it? is it always looking for something more? is that how it has to be? that's not how i'm experiencing it. i mean, i could definitely paint for you an ideal life. but the life doesn't have to have all of those ingredients for it to be the life i want to live, the life i'm willing to make sacrifices to live.
anyways, blog, i don't know if anyone reads this anymore, so i should almost call you diary because i guess this is getting private. i want to be thankful for the bank of memories that are so precious to me. i do not want to leave them behind. but that may be what i'm being asked to do, and i guess they are the past anyway, and i guess this person doesn't like me when i'm sad because they are not around. i will try not to be sad. i will try to prepare for whatever happens, even a move to 2,000 miles away, which will probably mean never moving back to nebraska again. even if that is what i'm preparing for, i'll admit i'm doing it with a heart that says hell no, i won't go. a heart that says i will not give this up. i do not want to give this up. if this person really needs to let me down, they probably shouldn't do it nicely. because if it's my heart they ultimately have to break and keep breaking, it shouldn't be a slow tear with me either. it should be decisive. you want to give a person time when you know the goal is to get to you. but, when they don't know, when they give you inklings that it's over but still tell you they love you and will see you tomorrow and want to be with you, well, then you're just living in a pretty impossibly painful situation. i will do my best to try to stay calm. namaste.
that kind of feeling gives you a lot of hope. but the deeper the love gets, so does one's need to be with their beloved. and sometimes there are seeming complications that say, hey, are you crazy, this love won't work? what are you doing?
in my case, that voice doesn't tell me to stop. sometimes it tells me to hide. sometimes it hides me without my knowing it. sometimes it tells me to be scared. it tells me to be angry when i'm not getting the attention i think i deserve. but when you love somebody you really want to be with, you wait for the voice to get calmer. it can still be pretty insistent about what it wants. but i hope mine gets calmer.
either way, i hope i can get to a calmer place. i think i might drop that travel writing class by monday because it doesn't help me get to the calm place. but it also does challenge me. but i think it's too much. i think i need to drop that class. which would mean that i'm not applying for the phd right now. see, that would be upsetting to me, so i guess i have to keep trying.
the message right now in general is that i have to keep trying. i have to try to get back to the good place where i was before i met this person, but now they are so deep in my heart that it is hard to be in the good place without this person. that is what is so hard. that person caused me to be in the happiest place ever, where happiest was dripping off me like i was a teacake. and now it is really a struggle. and so some people say if this guy isn't going to be with you, if he is telling you that, which it seems that he is, you have to get out of there.
this means that i have to move to san francisco. i don't think that's just a week away. i think that's not enough time. i can't imagine being ready to do it. i wonder if this guy really does want to be with me, and when he will know if he can make it happen. i mean, i don't understand how he couldn't. that's the part that is so difficult. and does he want to be with me? i mean when you love someone, well, you want their love for you to be of the kind where they would do anything to be with you. i would do anything to be with this person. i mean that's just what love is, isn't it? is it always looking for something more? is that how it has to be? that's not how i'm experiencing it. i mean, i could definitely paint for you an ideal life. but the life doesn't have to have all of those ingredients for it to be the life i want to live, the life i'm willing to make sacrifices to live.
anyways, blog, i don't know if anyone reads this anymore, so i should almost call you diary because i guess this is getting private. i want to be thankful for the bank of memories that are so precious to me. i do not want to leave them behind. but that may be what i'm being asked to do, and i guess they are the past anyway, and i guess this person doesn't like me when i'm sad because they are not around. i will try not to be sad. i will try to prepare for whatever happens, even a move to 2,000 miles away, which will probably mean never moving back to nebraska again. even if that is what i'm preparing for, i'll admit i'm doing it with a heart that says hell no, i won't go. a heart that says i will not give this up. i do not want to give this up. if this person really needs to let me down, they probably shouldn't do it nicely. because if it's my heart they ultimately have to break and keep breaking, it shouldn't be a slow tear with me either. it should be decisive. you want to give a person time when you know the goal is to get to you. but, when they don't know, when they give you inklings that it's over but still tell you they love you and will see you tomorrow and want to be with you, well, then you're just living in a pretty impossibly painful situation. i will do my best to try to stay calm. namaste.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
DEAR BLOG
I HAVE MISSED YOU BLOG. SOMETHING HAS HAPPENED WHERE I NO LONGER CAN MAKE THIS TEXT ANY BIGGER NOR CAN I COLOR IT NOR CAN I COLOR THE BACKGROUND. I ACCEPT MY LIMITATIONS IN THIS MATTER.
WHAT I WAS INSPIRED TO GET ON THIS SITE AND SAY AS I EAT SALTY POPCORN WHICH IS STREWN OVER MY FAIRLY CLEAN DESK IS THIS:
THE GREAT THING ABOUT LIFE IS THAT IT IS OURS TO MESS UP AS COMPLETELY AS WE CAN WITH WHATEVER WE THINK WILL ENRICH US. SOME PEOPLE END UP IN TREATMENT CENTERS AFTER FOLLOWING THE BLISS OF ALCOHOL. SOME PEOPLE END UP WITH BROKEN HEARTS. SOME PEOPLE END UP HAPPY. I KNOW. I'VE MET THEM. I THINK YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW YOUR HEART/YOUR BLISS. HOW CAN THERE BE ANY OTHER WAY TO LIVE LIFE? IN DOING SO, IT MAY SEEM LIKE WE'RE MAKING SACRIFICES. BUT AS LONG AS WE'RE FOLLOWING/LISTENING TO THE DEEPEST SOURCE OF OUR OWN GRAVITY, HOW CAN WE GO WRONG? REALLY? WHEN YOU FOLLOW YOUR OWN GRAVITY, YOU ALSO FIND LEVITY. GROUNDED IN WHAT YOU'VE DETERMINED THROUGH A LOT OF THOUGHT AND REFLECTION/ TRIAL AND ERROR AS WHAT IS IMPORTANT TO YOU, YOU GET TO ALSO BE FREE. YOU GET TO HAVE LIGHTNESS. THE FREEDOM COMES FROM DOING THE HARD WORK OF DOING WHAT YOU NEEDED TO DO. THIS I BELIEVE VERY STRONGLY. IT'S REALLY NICE TO SAY YOU BELIEVE SOMETHING VERY STRONGLY. I BELIEVE IT'S GOOD BARACK WAS ELECTED. SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE, AND BEYOND THAT, DUDE, BARACK OBAMA IS OUR PRESIDENT. HE IS LIKE ONE OF AMERICA'S BEST DUDES, AND HE'S RATHER CUTE, AND AFRICAN-AMERICAN, AND HE HAS A GREAT FAMILY, AND HE'S OUR PRESIDENT? WHAT ISN'T THIS WORLD COMING TO?
THERE IS GOODNESS IN THIS WORLD. I AM GIVING A HEATHER MINI-LECTURE RIGHT NOW, AND IF YOU ARE LISTENING, YOU DESERVE A PULTIZER. I'M JUST KIDDING, I NEITHER GIVE THOSE OUT NOR EXPECT TO RECEIVE ONE, BUT THIS COMMUNICATION IS GRATIFYING FOR ME, AND IF IT GRATIFIES ANY PART OF YOU, HOW LUCKY DID WE JUST GET??? :)
I HAVE BEEN HAVING SO MANY PARTS OF ME GRATIFIED, REALLY ALL OF ME GRATIFIED IF WE WANT TO GET DOWN TO IT. AND THERE IS STILL SILLINESS IN THIS WORLD TO LAUGH AT, TOO. FOR EXAMPLE, WHEN I CALLED MY DAD TO CONGRATULATE HIM AND THE REPUBLICAN PARTY FOR COMING IN SECOND PLACE, HE SAID "YOU KNOW, I WAS THINKING BACK TO MY COUNTER-INTELLIGENCE DAYS, AND IT IS VERY HARD TO GET A TOP SECRET CLEARANCE, AND I DON'T THINK BARACK OBAMA COULD HAVE GOTTEN A TOP SECRET CLEARANCE." THEN I PROCEEDED TO ASK HIM WHY. I DIDN'T JUMP DOWN HIS THROAT AT ALL ABOUT FOX NEWS, AND I PERCEIVE THIS AS GROWTH. MY FATHER AND I HAVE HAD GROWTH IN OUR RELATIONSHIP, AND THIS IS GOOD. HE WENT ON TO SAY "WELL, YOU KNOW, HE KNOWS TERRORISTS." I DIDN'T KNOW THIS BIT OF NEWS, BUT ME AND THE MEDIA ARE REALLY OUT OF TOUCH THESE DAYS, I ADMIT IT. I CAN BARELY BRING MYSELF TO READ THE STUFF ABOUT THE 15TH CENTURY LET ALONE THE 21ST, BUT I'LL GET TO THAT SOON, I BELIEVE. ANYWAYS, HE WAS SAYING THAT BARACK OBAMA HAS "ASSOCIATED" WITH TERRORISTS. I WANTED TO GET INTO THE BUSH FAMILY AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH CERTAIN SAUDIS, AND I DID MENTION IT, BUT I THINK MY DAD WAS SO, WELL, FOX-INFORMED THAT I THINK WHAT'S THE POINT? I MEAN, WHEN I WAS UPSET THAT THE REPUBLICANS WON, HE DIDN'T REALLY RUB IT MY FACE, SO I WON'T EITHER. BARACK IS PREZ. MAYBE ONLY FOR THE NEXT 4-8 YEARS. WHO CAN PREDICT A GOOD THING LET ALONE A BAD THING, BUT HEY, IT'S TRUE. OVER HALF THE COUNTRY DID THIS. I AM STILL IN A HAPPY PLACE OF SHOCK AND ALMOST DISBELIEF, BUT IT HAPPENED. SARAH PALIN DID NOT PREVAIL EVEN THOUGH PEOPLE LIKE MY DAD WOULD LIKE TO ELEVATE THAT CUTE FACE ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP FOR THE GOOD IT WOULD DO... WHO KNEW?
SO, WHAT WILL WE DO NOW THAT WE DON'T HAVE BUSH TO COMPLAIN ABOUT? WELL, I PERSONALLY THINK HE DOESN'T REALLY EXIST. I THINK HE IS A PHANTOM, AND I HOPE HE PLAYS A LOT OF WHAT, BASEBALL? I HOPE HE HITS HOME RUNS OR AT LEAST WATCHES THEM EVERY DAY FOREVER.
AS FOR ME, IT'S THE SIMPLE THINGS. MAYBE LIKE W. THE POPCORN WAS REALLY GOOD. I FINISHED A FINE DRAFT OF AN ESSAY. I'VE MADE IT THROUGH THIS WEEK STRONGER, I THINK. SUSAN MILLER PREDICTS A GOOD MONTH? WHAT MORE CAN A GIRL ASK FOR? I'VE HAD SOME INCREDIBLE LOVE, HOPE TO HAVE SOME MORE. YOU KNOW MY BANK ACCOUNT COULD BE GREEDIER, BUT I BELIEVE MY LIFE TO BE RATHER GREAT. THERE IS SO MUCH SWEETNESS, EVEN WHEN THINGS ARE HARDER THAN EVER. ARE THEY REALLY EVER HARDER THAN EVER? WELL, MAYBE FOR A LITTLE BIT. BUT WE MADE IT THROUGH 8 YEARS OF THE DUMBEST PRESIDENT IN HISTORY. GRANTED, WE PROBABLY ALL FELT A LOT SMARTER THAN WE WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE BECAUSE OF IT. BUT, WE WAITED IT OUT, AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED, WE GOT A LEADER.
I THINK GOOD THINGS HAPPEN. I AM GRATEFUL FOR WHERE I'VE BEEN AND WHAT I'VE BEEN DOING. ALL OF IT. THANKS TO ALL OF YOU (ANY OTHER PERSON OR OTTER READING THIS) WHO HAVE SHARED ANY MOMENTS OF IT. YOU HAVE MADE IT ALL MORE THAN WORTH IT.
WHAT I WAS INSPIRED TO GET ON THIS SITE AND SAY AS I EAT SALTY POPCORN WHICH IS STREWN OVER MY FAIRLY CLEAN DESK IS THIS:
THE GREAT THING ABOUT LIFE IS THAT IT IS OURS TO MESS UP AS COMPLETELY AS WE CAN WITH WHATEVER WE THINK WILL ENRICH US. SOME PEOPLE END UP IN TREATMENT CENTERS AFTER FOLLOWING THE BLISS OF ALCOHOL. SOME PEOPLE END UP WITH BROKEN HEARTS. SOME PEOPLE END UP HAPPY. I KNOW. I'VE MET THEM. I THINK YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW YOUR HEART/YOUR BLISS. HOW CAN THERE BE ANY OTHER WAY TO LIVE LIFE? IN DOING SO, IT MAY SEEM LIKE WE'RE MAKING SACRIFICES. BUT AS LONG AS WE'RE FOLLOWING/LISTENING TO THE DEEPEST SOURCE OF OUR OWN GRAVITY, HOW CAN WE GO WRONG? REALLY? WHEN YOU FOLLOW YOUR OWN GRAVITY, YOU ALSO FIND LEVITY. GROUNDED IN WHAT YOU'VE DETERMINED THROUGH A LOT OF THOUGHT AND REFLECTION/ TRIAL AND ERROR AS WHAT IS IMPORTANT TO YOU, YOU GET TO ALSO BE FREE. YOU GET TO HAVE LIGHTNESS. THE FREEDOM COMES FROM DOING THE HARD WORK OF DOING WHAT YOU NEEDED TO DO. THIS I BELIEVE VERY STRONGLY. IT'S REALLY NICE TO SAY YOU BELIEVE SOMETHING VERY STRONGLY. I BELIEVE IT'S GOOD BARACK WAS ELECTED. SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE, AND BEYOND THAT, DUDE, BARACK OBAMA IS OUR PRESIDENT. HE IS LIKE ONE OF AMERICA'S BEST DUDES, AND HE'S RATHER CUTE, AND AFRICAN-AMERICAN, AND HE HAS A GREAT FAMILY, AND HE'S OUR PRESIDENT? WHAT ISN'T THIS WORLD COMING TO?
THERE IS GOODNESS IN THIS WORLD. I AM GIVING A HEATHER MINI-LECTURE RIGHT NOW, AND IF YOU ARE LISTENING, YOU DESERVE A PULTIZER. I'M JUST KIDDING, I NEITHER GIVE THOSE OUT NOR EXPECT TO RECEIVE ONE, BUT THIS COMMUNICATION IS GRATIFYING FOR ME, AND IF IT GRATIFIES ANY PART OF YOU, HOW LUCKY DID WE JUST GET??? :)
I HAVE BEEN HAVING SO MANY PARTS OF ME GRATIFIED, REALLY ALL OF ME GRATIFIED IF WE WANT TO GET DOWN TO IT. AND THERE IS STILL SILLINESS IN THIS WORLD TO LAUGH AT, TOO. FOR EXAMPLE, WHEN I CALLED MY DAD TO CONGRATULATE HIM AND THE REPUBLICAN PARTY FOR COMING IN SECOND PLACE, HE SAID "YOU KNOW, I WAS THINKING BACK TO MY COUNTER-INTELLIGENCE DAYS, AND IT IS VERY HARD TO GET A TOP SECRET CLEARANCE, AND I DON'T THINK BARACK OBAMA COULD HAVE GOTTEN A TOP SECRET CLEARANCE." THEN I PROCEEDED TO ASK HIM WHY. I DIDN'T JUMP DOWN HIS THROAT AT ALL ABOUT FOX NEWS, AND I PERCEIVE THIS AS GROWTH. MY FATHER AND I HAVE HAD GROWTH IN OUR RELATIONSHIP, AND THIS IS GOOD. HE WENT ON TO SAY "WELL, YOU KNOW, HE KNOWS TERRORISTS." I DIDN'T KNOW THIS BIT OF NEWS, BUT ME AND THE MEDIA ARE REALLY OUT OF TOUCH THESE DAYS, I ADMIT IT. I CAN BARELY BRING MYSELF TO READ THE STUFF ABOUT THE 15TH CENTURY LET ALONE THE 21ST, BUT I'LL GET TO THAT SOON, I BELIEVE. ANYWAYS, HE WAS SAYING THAT BARACK OBAMA HAS "ASSOCIATED" WITH TERRORISTS. I WANTED TO GET INTO THE BUSH FAMILY AND THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH CERTAIN SAUDIS, AND I DID MENTION IT, BUT I THINK MY DAD WAS SO, WELL, FOX-INFORMED THAT I THINK WHAT'S THE POINT? I MEAN, WHEN I WAS UPSET THAT THE REPUBLICANS WON, HE DIDN'T REALLY RUB IT MY FACE, SO I WON'T EITHER. BARACK IS PREZ. MAYBE ONLY FOR THE NEXT 4-8 YEARS. WHO CAN PREDICT A GOOD THING LET ALONE A BAD THING, BUT HEY, IT'S TRUE. OVER HALF THE COUNTRY DID THIS. I AM STILL IN A HAPPY PLACE OF SHOCK AND ALMOST DISBELIEF, BUT IT HAPPENED. SARAH PALIN DID NOT PREVAIL EVEN THOUGH PEOPLE LIKE MY DAD WOULD LIKE TO ELEVATE THAT CUTE FACE ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP FOR THE GOOD IT WOULD DO... WHO KNEW?
SO, WHAT WILL WE DO NOW THAT WE DON'T HAVE BUSH TO COMPLAIN ABOUT? WELL, I PERSONALLY THINK HE DOESN'T REALLY EXIST. I THINK HE IS A PHANTOM, AND I HOPE HE PLAYS A LOT OF WHAT, BASEBALL? I HOPE HE HITS HOME RUNS OR AT LEAST WATCHES THEM EVERY DAY FOREVER.
AS FOR ME, IT'S THE SIMPLE THINGS. MAYBE LIKE W. THE POPCORN WAS REALLY GOOD. I FINISHED A FINE DRAFT OF AN ESSAY. I'VE MADE IT THROUGH THIS WEEK STRONGER, I THINK. SUSAN MILLER PREDICTS A GOOD MONTH? WHAT MORE CAN A GIRL ASK FOR? I'VE HAD SOME INCREDIBLE LOVE, HOPE TO HAVE SOME MORE. YOU KNOW MY BANK ACCOUNT COULD BE GREEDIER, BUT I BELIEVE MY LIFE TO BE RATHER GREAT. THERE IS SO MUCH SWEETNESS, EVEN WHEN THINGS ARE HARDER THAN EVER. ARE THEY REALLY EVER HARDER THAN EVER? WELL, MAYBE FOR A LITTLE BIT. BUT WE MADE IT THROUGH 8 YEARS OF THE DUMBEST PRESIDENT IN HISTORY. GRANTED, WE PROBABLY ALL FELT A LOT SMARTER THAN WE WOULD HAVE OTHERWISE BECAUSE OF IT. BUT, WE WAITED IT OUT, AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED, WE GOT A LEADER.
I THINK GOOD THINGS HAPPEN. I AM GRATEFUL FOR WHERE I'VE BEEN AND WHAT I'VE BEEN DOING. ALL OF IT. THANKS TO ALL OF YOU (ANY OTHER PERSON OR OTTER READING THIS) WHO HAVE SHARED ANY MOMENTS OF IT. YOU HAVE MADE IT ALL MORE THAN WORTH IT.
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