I thought that this morning's fog would hold out all day in spite of the weather reports--afterall, it's not like "the weather people" haven't been wrong before, no? Well, with impending menopause, and my new experiment fully underway as of 8AM this morn, I am sweating like the proverbial pig. Where that ever came from is beyond me, since most folks know (don't most folks know?) that pigs don't sweat! Anyhoo--I'm not responsible for the message itself, only its continued dissemination. So sue me--in fact, stand in line and shout to the heavens all of the hurts and wrongs that I've heaped upon you--and then, do me a favor: look in the mirror. Or fuck off. Take your pick.
I have been re-reading portions of my other website journal: Feeling Witchy I'm much better and consistent with paper, but even then, not so consistent as I would like. For one thing, I am rarely able to sit down and take stock of my thoughts--they come--they come rapidly, but I'm usually up on a ladder, or under a building or desk, or on the much-unliked phone walking someone through another programming change. Best they not find their own files, files which include my specifically, and individually, typed out instructions which indicate the answer to all of the questions posed to me ad nauseum. But it's your job! No, no, it is not. Read the notes I've prepared for you--or better yet, maybe around the 15th time you've called me for the same reason, decide it is finally time to take notes yourself--notes that you will actually file away in a handy place. Notes that you will remember to look at before you call me while I'm up on a ladder or the top of a building--or driving down the freeway, trying desperately to not get a ticket for answering your repeated calls. Yeah, yeah, that sounds like a plan.
Can you tell that I'm hot? Yeah, I'm hot! I'm hot for so many reasons. I am hot because I have been yet again accused of something that is completely indefensible, and which is also so wrong. I put myself out there, though, as I did 21+ years ago, so should I just say to myself, "I told you so," or "well, you gave it your best shot?" You, know, Witchy--there ARE mean people on this planet--and guess what? You escaped as many as you could...why go back for seconds? Stop beating yourself up--and better yet: stop putting yourself in the line of fire. It's your own damn fault--whether it makes sense or not. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW????????????????????????????????????????????? HOW 'BOUT NOW?
Good.
What a shock--I digress! The point is, that whether I'm re-reading entries written with a fountain pen, or another of my electronic journals, it gets tiring. I mean, were I to edit, I could probably just throw out 15 of the books without missing much--very like a daytime soap opera--for the tenor is much the same: whah, whah, poor me...I'm not complaining, but look at what everyone has done to me--I'm so great, I'm a heroine of my own world--too bad I cannot stay there...(many would agree, but I care not!) but there IS actually FINALLY a progression in the tone. I had missed it until just about a week ago. You see, most of my life, I have lived in terror. I have lived in terror for various reasons--but I have nonetheless. Mostly, my entries are whingey, in my opinion. Frankly, the journals are mine anyway, so it is only my opinion that ever gets to count! But, at any rate, the tone has lately become less of terror, and while still self-pitying for the most part, I have detected a maturation that has, as yet, eluded me. It is subtle...get me not wrong...but it is there. I am glimpsing the possibility of a new way of being, and that is beyond exciting for me. I have plumbed the depths of my soul...have lived in the blackness of my own fears (undefined, and therefore, all the more gripping--for the unknown has much more power over us, does it not?) but am beginning, though dimly, to see that I can take back my life. Sadly, some will have to be left behind. I'll not go into that further here, for I am greatly saddened by the prospect, and frankly, having no experience with a successful outcome with mid-western folk, they who harbor such entrenched resentments (unspoken, but used as a baton, nonetheless) it is probably best that I choose to remain saddened, but singed no further than I have already been.
Anyway, best this happen during the waning moon--it is not only the message--sent to me full blast--but also the moon's gentle nudging and timing that tells me that it is best to leave well enough alone....some things are not meant to be.
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