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Friday, May 22nd, 2015
12:40 am - like rain
At first perhaps the air is only moist, then that moistness becomes more dense and steady. Before you really know it, you're standing in a persistent and torrential downpour. It is hard to know precisely when the rains began, but there is, at this point, no manner of denying it.

That is how I came to know I love you.

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Sunday, May 10th, 2015
5:08 pm - elseweb, on known quantities
me: oh no, I'm not at all afraid of how much I love him. I'm afraid of how much he's come to love me.

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Thursday, April 16th, 2015
10:39 am - discussion on where my ideas on the importance of art as a voice for disenfranchised stem from
Windy: good morning!
so! if you had funding, effort, skilled labor, etc... what kind of project would you want to do right now?

Fin: good morning! uhm, let's see-- I don't have a lot of free floating ideas atm so I'd think of areas I wanted to address and think of ideas to apply to those areas...

Windy: like...? ;D

Fin: I think I'd want to come up with a project to work with teens who are marginalised, maybe queer/trans

Windy: interesting! that does make one wonder what your teenage years were like... you were more on the Pennsyltucky side of the state? you did tell me some stories about abuse at the hands of a male relative (being clear that I'm not asking for your story... unless you want to share)

Fin: Pennsyltucky is usually seen as the middle, between Philly and Pittsburgh; I was geographically close to Philadelphia (Norristown if you look on a map is very near) but being a small satellite town, yes, it was ideologically more like Pennsyltucky.
Thanks, I appreciate that-- I'm so transparent about my story at this point, and have been for so long, that it rarely causes me issue to bring up: I was inappropriately touched by my grandfather from about 3-4ish until he died when I was 7, I was raped when I was 14 by a next door neighbour who was 21 at the time (we lived in a semi-attached house, he cut my window, then my clothing, while I slept), the next boy I dated after that I did so for a school year and a bit, and he often engaged in nonconsensual sex with me, regularly harming me during it, like cigarette burns.

Windy: yeah I had heard some of that. was that just tremendously bad luck? to be born into a place surrounded by predatory men? or (as you referenced earlier) that your self-expression made you a target?

Fin: I think some of it was age/time - I think consent issues have become more publicly talked about, I don't think the responses from counselors and the like that I got would be so likely to happen. (I attempted to tell several people, all women, in my life what I'd experienced and the responses were largely some play on 'blame', all uninterested in doing anything about it.)

Windy: yeah I remember those stories! worthless gatekeepers

Fin: I think some of it was geography - if those responses happened, it would be more likely in the kind of town I grew up in.

Windy mmm... I am fascinated by what causes people's moral circles of care to expand or contract... I think that is why I am asking

Fin: etc. I think there are a lot of factors that went into it, and perhaps one can attribute having so many factors to make it incrementally more likely to 'luck'.

Windy: luck just means we don't understand ^^

Fin grins. ah, then yes. a large part of it was luck.

Windy: yes, mala suerte =( do you think your desire to help (in this imaginary case where we are rich with resources and energy) marginalized LGBT teens is because (in part?) of your kid?

Fin: oh, I think it's me. but yes, my kid then plays into that: I think the way I parent them is because of me, too though-- I mean, that's usually how it is, but I think I'm very open about it. I never felt like the adults in my sphere gave me space to express myself, and I felt - and had it proved! - to me that it was dangerous for me to do so. I feel that my (lack of) a childhood is the reason I border on being obsessed with marginalised/oppressed/disenfranchised people being given time and space for their voices to be heard.

Windy: I sorta figure that folks typically have energy, focus, clarity etc after a transformative event that successfully--
sometimes just playing the ideas can make a channel. the last thing you wrote is powerful-- sometimes just knowing the reasons why we act can move us, a kind of resonance perhaps (I don't think everyone knows why they act each moment etc)

Fin: I think that I've always been aware to some degree that my voice was there for others because a) others wouldn't speak for me, and b) I couldn't speak for myself. I'm also aware that this is the genesis of my feeling like I'm not worth speaking up for, and why I continue to struggle with the ramifications of that.

Windy: the younger we are, the less we realize that we do have power-- just a musing thought. and, as you pointed out upthread... sometimes we don't! much easier to look at things from a position thirty years on and say 'well, you have this whole collection of good options, let's talk about...'

Fin nods. to have had someone point them out to me then!

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Monday, January 26th, 2015
12:05 pm - clean and complete
Sometimes, in relationships, particularly in their endings, you do not get closure. You are left with yourself, and you have to get whatever it is the best that you can on your own, and you move on.

I wrote this some time ago (I am bad with time, but about two years?), in a somewhat secretive corner, but I've decided to share it now.

I have been dating someone new.

I met her in the community of which I am now a member, and was just completely mesmerized from the start. I am horribly awkward when it comes to flirting with women though, the more I admire them the worse it is, and yet somehow I managed to become friends with her, invite her to a party I was having, and in what feels like a magical string of happenings, have been dating her, as of the other day, for one month.

I am so bloody smitten. I'm sure when we go out, other people must notice. Yet I am holding back. I'm holding back for a variety of reasons, some of which are likely healthy, some of which are born of my own old issues, but regardless, I'm not sure even I know how smitten I exactly am.

She is such a beautiful person; kind and considerate, thoughtful and caring. I've been sick for awhile, and twice she's come over and cooked for me (for all of us to eat, though I'm the one that would ordinarily have to cook, so I was doubly blessed). When one of my family members was dealing with the death of one of their family members, and I was considering going back east suddenly, she offered to help front the money for airfare. She is so very smart, and passionate: we've gone hiking and she tells me all she knows about Southern California's botany - I've pressed the flowers that she couldn't identify on the spot in a book of Klimt's erotic sketches. She keeps her eyes locked on me when we shower together, her beautiful eyes the colour of cornflowers rimmed by long blonde lashes, even as I wash her carefully with her hand tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. She puts her tiny always-cold native SoCal hands on my always-warm new englander thigh when we drive. She makes the best vegan baked goods; she "accidentally" made the same chocolate curry muffins on our one month anniversary as she had to tempt me over on that first night we were together. She left a note on my car one morning, telling me how much she loved my very soft hands petting on her the night before. One night she laid on me and told me about old scars she'd kept secret, let me tell her mine, and we cried together for what we'd survived, whispering how sorry we were and how proud we were of each other, and I had never felt so very very honoured. She curls her lips in such a deliciously evil grin when she straddles me, sitting upright to watch my face - always those eyes. She worries over our differences, asking to make sure I am comfortable with things as they are. And she clearly loves me as much as she currently dares.

I am, to put it bluntly, completely and utterly fucked.
I just needed to let this veneer crack just once.

I worried about how she'd feel if I told her I love her, so I never did. And then that relationship moved on and we stopped speaking. I now wish I'd told her. Doing so may have surprised her, it may have upset her. I certainly don't believe it would've stopped our relationship from ending. But I can't really know, and honestly, I don't have enough info even now to make an educated guess.

But I know how it has made me feel for her to not know. I know how I've second guessed myself. I know mutual friends tell me that she judges herself, and displaced, is concerned I judge her. Heresy, I can't know it's true, who knows if they know it's true, who knows if SHE can be aware if it's true. *shrug* But I see inspirational posters saying things like "Every moment spent judging is a moment spent not loving", and I wonder if she has room to know that I don't judge her, that though there was a time when we were both hurting, and it did not hurt me more to know that she shared that experience with me, and there have been moments when I was less gracious than I'd like to have been, that I have loved her, and find myself loving her still. That I never truly stopped thinking that she is such a beautiful person; kind and considerate, thoughtful and caring. That I am grateful and consider myself fortunate that I knew her and got to experience her for as long as I did.

If we spoke, I would tell her that.

I would apologise for the times I could not rise up and be gracious.

I would tell her that I do not find much worth in judging.

I would tell her that I wish her all the good that she can glean in life.

I would tell her, that for my part, there has been a clearing into which anything can be built.

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Sunday, December 28th, 2014
4:23 pm
Sometimes I wonder

if I am a seagoat, a creature of earth and water, and you a dragon, made of fire and air... do we complete some desperate need in one another, or do the oceans boil you burning me while I drown you?

Or something subtle, something both.

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Wednesday, December 10th, 2014
5:34 pm - a mixed bag of thoughts
A second person has come to me with information that a specific person is frightened of me.

The first person who told me, we'll call them Sue, put the responsibility on me to heal that relationship. When I said that I'd shared with a mutual friend that I was open to the person coming to me, Sue said that it was my duty to approach the person myself. I disagree.

The second person who told me, we'll call Craig, at least owned that it's projection of guilt, and that I wasn't in any way responsible for them dealing with their shit. I agree with Craig. I'm not sure why he told me, though. Perhaps because he thinks that though I don't need to, I'd want to. I don't.

I wanted to collect my thoughts on it, though, in case it ever comes up (the person approaches me).

My perspective of the situation:
- This person legitimately did things which hurt me, some of which were passive, and some of which were active. As much as if someone punched me. I don't precisely find "fault" or "blame" in this, I just view it as a statement of fact.
- This person also hurt me in ways that I admit have to do with my own perception, and I've owned those for my own purposes.
- I don't feel any need to engage them about those.
- This person hurt my child, and when I came to them to try to tell them that, their behaviour didn't change.
- I've more or less moved on with no expectation of an expression of remorse or regret. It's not something I have any need for any longer.
(- I did at one time, and I allowed that need to propagate behaviour from myself that I felt didn't exist well with who I see myself as, nor who I want to be, so I've addressed that.)
- An expression of remorse or regret would have to come with reparative action.
- Unless and until that happens, I'm not interested in having any kind of relationship with them outside of my being a decent human being who is capable of being civil and respectful as is appropriate to both operating within the same community.
- In truth, I was hurt as much as I was because I loved them, and I strongly suspect, because that is my nature, that I still do love them.
- I periodically experience huge urges to tell them how much they had meant to me, but I recognise that this would serve no functional purpose at this point as it's no longer true; regardless of if I still love them (fsvo love) I no longer respect them.
- I'd respect them more if they did take reparative action, and apologised, though. My respect would, honestly, be unfuckingparaelled, because that's a huge thing. I'd reevaluate the above if this happened. But I've no attachment to it happening.
- I have no ill will for nor toward them.
- Whilst I personally think they're unlikely to do well without examination of their behaviour, I do legitimately hope that they experience a great deal of joy and growth in their life.
- Over there.

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Thursday, December 4th, 2014
1:09 pm - astute myopathy
There is a memetic, shared language used when people talk about love and the loss there of. Our first, or biggest, love -- the one which all else will be compared to.

Because I am who I am, I've multiple of those.

I have never felt that I am that for anyone. Never was, never will be. And though a part of me wished that wasn't the case, it has seemed as factual to me as the sky is blue, and the sky will mostly always be blue (uh, you know, sun sets and sunrises and storms, etc not withstanding) and no amount of wishing it to be another colour is going to change that the sky is probably gonna be some shade of blue. Even if you do wish it to be another colour, you're probably comfortable with this fact.

What if someone pointed out to you that you've some sort of disorder or defect of your eye, that means that you're seeing the sky as a colour that it isn't, that it is in fact the colour that you wish it to be?

I got angry.

I've a kind of cataracts that means I can't see my importance in other people's lives. My lack of importance feels as factual to me as the sky being blue, so whilst I wish I were more important, it is a state I've become comfortable with. So I became angry with someone who challenging that.

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Monday, November 3rd, 2014
1:07 pm - ask for what you want
Moods swing. Yesterday I was crafting a floormat out of spare rope I'd taken to the burn that made it back, and some acrylic yarn, and thinking smugly "fuck, I MAKE shit. useful shit. that's awesome." and thinking how there's nothing I've seen on pinterest (aside from knitting and food) that's ever produced a fear of my inability to make it, if not make it better.

Discussion on this year's gift giving began last night. I'm sure it is not news to anyone that the holidays is one of the highest times of suicide. Poor job market being what it is, depression also creeping in (two things which are very comorbid). I don't even feel like anything I can DO or make is worthy of gift-giving; my art feels so tiresome, crocheted hats and scarves are tiresome. It's all so tiresome. I can do nothing useful.

I think, what would I like? I can make them that:
- Nifty socks. But I cannot knit socks.
- Bookcases. But I cannot build bookcases.
- Baked goods! But I am a terrible baker.
- stories? But I'm inarticulate.
- songs? *sobs*

But I am reminded of someone who, I found out later, cherished a doodle I'd done on an index card for them, and how sad they were when it went missing.

My mother hated getting things I'd made, anyone had made-- she said it was cheaping out. I've depression and imposter syndrome -- it generally doesn't occur to me that, for most anyway, a piece of my art would be so important, let alone a doodle.

Asking people for things, or even just telling them appreciatively of what you think of their skills, might help - you know, both yourself, and them. I'd have painted this person anything they wanted, whenever they wanted-- I always felt so very lacking in their wake; knowing at the time that they cared so much about an index card would've meant the world to me, it would've been a gift FOR ME.

I wish I knew what use I am to people (for were of different uses to different people) so I could figure what gift I could make for them.

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Sunday, November 2nd, 2014
11:57 pm
I gave Rio room to speak to me about something, because that is part of my job as a parent, and now they're able to rest, that being off their chest. But now it is on mine, and I find I cannot go to sleep.

When they were wee and had trouble sleeping, their father and I would put them in the papoose to walk around and around and around the neighbourhood-- it never occurred to me that sleepness nights would extend so far.

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Friday, October 31st, 2014
1:48 am - recent photo of me
I forget to post photos over here for people that don't have FBs...

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Monday, October 20th, 2014
10:56 am - A few posts from FB for those not there
Though I haven't been able to post gratitudes for the last 5 days I am completely full of it ;)
- I am grateful for the opportunity to experience and participate in such an event,
- I am grateful to the community for creating and maintaining the cultural atmosphere that makes the event precisely what it is,
- I am grateful to the theme camps that I personally worked closely with, 99% of whom were wonderful to work with both pre-event and on-site, who were kind and gracious, who rolled with any of the difficulties that cropped up, who gifted me with coffee and shown me/expressed gratitude in other ways for the work that we'd done together; I am grateful for their participation and contributions, for them making the event what it is through their gifts to the community,
- I am grateful to all of the leads who busted their asses, both pre-event and on-site as well; I am particularly grateful to the leads who were able to do this gracefully, who understood the importance of balancing that work with self care and play, any leads who took a moment and energy to compliment, thank, etc another lead or volunteer on their own contributions. IMO, Commissary had gorgeous food this year, but on top of that I find I enjoyed my time in commissary because of the beautiful energy and camaraderie of sharing meals with you
- I am grateful for my friends, who made MY personal event the recharging, re..filling up of creativity, inspiration, and love that it was. Who helped me see how I've grown, how yet I can grow, my own power, what I am capable of, and what I deserve. Even if I didn't spend much time with you -- I didn't get to spend as much time as I'd like with anyone, though more so others -- even if we just briefly saw one another, even that touchstone of friendship in the midst of working was beautiful; thank you for that. Thank you for inviting me to your camps events, thank you for checking in on me that I was taking care of myself, thank you for cooking me ramen, bringing me coke/coffee, thank you for meandering with me, dancing with me, staring at stars with me, thank you for piggyback rides and bad ideas, thank you for riding in my kumboata particularly sharing and laughing at our stresses. Thank you for Being with me, you know? Profoundly, thank you.
- I am grateful that this is my life. For my mind, and heart, that made my experiencing what I did possible. That I had several long moments of immense and inexpressible gratitude for nothing in specific, but just.. everything. Everything, even.. this or that "negative" thing; ev. rhee. thing. Everything.

I always feel a push to express these things asap so that I can hold onto and digest them, so as I come back to this reality, please expect and excuse frequent and possibly a bit disjointed thoughts.
I asked many people what was their favourite thing they saw at the event. I had the great fortune to camp with a group of very hard-working, talented artists; engineers and community builders who did the astounding job of somehow manifesting a fucking amazing pyramid through the magic of busting their asses. One of my favourite moments was one night sitting in camp on my own watching the pyramid shift colours - it doesn't sound like much perhaps, but it is the sort of small quiet moment that resonates deeply with native introverts. Through the event it became a beacon for me, a touchstone of home and love and everything that's become very very dear to me and why I work so hard on-site.
This may sound odd to those that saw, and odder yet to those that know, but as far as visuals go, I also enjoyed this year's Temple, which I've come to think of as "yr eglwys ddu" as it ended up tied up in all of these.. multi-layered emotions and analogies for me, mostly of Hedd Wyn's shrouded chair. Hedd Wyn, which means Blessed Peace, is the bardic name of a Welsh language poet that died during WW1, and was posthumously awarded the chair --- after the three trumpets sounded for the author to identify himself, it was announced that he'd been killed in action, the empty chair was draped in a black shroud, and delivered to his family as such.
... I don't really know how to explain more why that connection made sense to me. And it's not precisely a positive or pleasant thing, but I.. I appreciated it's visual impact and it's feeling of Rightness.
I asked a small child who was riding with me to off-site parking what was his favourite thing he saw, and he told me music (brilliant answer!). After that I changed my question to "what was your favourite experience". I had many, but a few stand-out:
I had the pleasure of experiencing John Noble's music for the first real time, and it was... *shakes head* I can't really, you know? I wouldn't say I listened, I'd say I experienced it. I'd hoped to catch him but due to work, turned up late, and yet he continued to play for me. I think, outside of my own camp, that was the single time I stayed transfixed in a single spot the entire event - it was such a beautiful gift, and I'm so grateful for him for sharing that both with me and with the community at large.
Dewey. This year Dewey was a person version of the Sol pyramid. Such an amazing person. Getting to know her more, and everything she gifts to the world through being, was one of my favourite experiences. Kumboata time with her and Bob, as weird as that may sound, was also one of my favourite times.
Marc took the time to teach me to, ostensibly, break a board with my hand, even though I'd missed his workshop. What he taught me had a lot more to do with recognising and harnessing my internal strength, I think.
... so many of my favourite experiences are people. Brenda was the best, going above and beyond colead to help me when I had no tent the first two nights onsite. She lightened both the practical admin load pre-event and emotional on-site load. Bob was Bob and is always Bob, and I've never had a brother but I imagine Bob being like one.

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Monday, October 13th, 2014
9:35 pm
oh, this beautiful new road!

that you could've come, my love, to see me here, now...
except that I would not have started off if you'd stayed by my side.

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Wednesday, August 13th, 2014
1:41 pm
water, obviously

- a few gatorades
- a few cokes
- trail mix
- pretzels
- olives and/or pickles
- tea + sugar (see if I can find vegan nondairy creamers?)
- oats
- dried fruit
- apples, melons, grapes - these are said to last well

- at least 12 cans of v8
- at least 12 fruitcups
- two boxes of crunchy granola
- individual cups of peanutbutter

- I think I might make some chili and some curry and vacuum seal these?
- maybe a few veggie patties?
- a few vegan ramen

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Tuesday, August 5th, 2014
3:32 am - liminal
I hadn't mentioned, but I'd asked someone out to dinner. I rarely make the first move these days, so that was a thing. We went and had a very good time. Sharing ice cream was amusing (they pile two scoops on top of one another, so if both of you are a bit of the neurotic OCD introvert type, it turns into this fun cooperative jenga-esque game of both of you taking a spoon at the perfectly orchestrated moment so it's not upset, until eventually it becomes less and less feasible, and the other person says "let's just get horizontal!" and there is tittering).

The other person has a similar sense of TMI, has a refreshing mixture of clinical and crass word usage, and is a long time burner, so had deeply varied stories to tell me. Yet had a very measured but natural balance of talking and listening. It made for a very enjoyable night. They've deep/dark history so things go slow, but they message me after work each night since that dinner and casually mention plans involving co-creating things for 2015 burn. They said that while they hope that they might be one of my daily gratitudes, that they would not want to be counted by a number because they're more a colour person - they'd never heard of Rothko, but very deeply and immediately GOT his work, and I admit, I felt just the wee bit more snagged.

There is still the other one, but we can be content to know it's not right (which isn't to say at all wrong) all the whilst edging slowly down more. I can feel every hitch, but there's little to do about it but lean in.

Adam contacted me again, asked to be friends. I was cold in a way I didn't know I could be - I asked him why. He babbled. I told him I didn't think that would work out. I've not heard from him thereafter, September may yet be another month.

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Saturday, August 2nd, 2014
5:07 pm - generally trying to catch up here
Been awhile since I posted, so here's a general catch-up, along with a hodgepodge of things I've recently posted on Fb:

-- On the spur of the moment I drove Riordon to an author signing a bit above LA. I'd never driven that far up north; LA is not in northern CA, people in SD just tend to think of LA as very up there - in reality it was a very lovely drive. I had a very enjoyable time with Rio generally, and as I am also fond of the author, even the specifics were nice.

-- I am headed back that way tomorrow, though not quite so far. I've a job in Oceanside helping an artist at a museum for the day.

-- Job search continues as well as the struggle to get back into college (that is now closer, and on Monday I need to take them more paperwork... never-ending paperwork).

-- I have been painting (watercolour) a lot more, and even I am shocked at what is undeniably progress. It's nice this impressing myself thing :)

-- I've been having a lot of migraines lately, and it's been affecting my mood in a general sense; constant pain'll do that. I've been continuing to do many of the things I've been taught to help (mood, not pain), and sometimes it all seems futile, but that I keep plodding along putting one foot in front of the other means, I know, that I am in a far better state than would've been normal.

I once read an article about how it is a natural reaction for people to utilise their partners (I imagine this works with other sorts of loves as well) as sort of supplemental portions of themselves, like an external hard drive. I am trying to sort out everything I need to accomplish today - it is incredibly difficult thinking in a straight line at the moment - and it's only just occured to me that perhaps whilst in losing me others may have lost their heart, in losing others, I've lost my mind.

-- It was made abundantly clear that I would be gifted a ticket if I wanted to go, and that many people wanted me to go. I mentioned that clearly the ticket was not the only part of going, and it was told that if I wanted to go, all would be taken care of for me. I can't describe that love, how honoured I am, and how much I know I must honour others.
Still, it is the right choice for me, for this year, to not go. Even if it is something which calls me keenly.

Someone asked me about my use of 'partners' vs 'loves', and I figured I'd answer here:

'loves' are people with whom I've strong emotional ties to and view in a family/tribe sort of relationship - they may, or may not, be, have been or ever will be sexual partners, but they are the people for whom I've a 'carry in my mouth' assignation for in my mental/emotional rolodex. I love a lot of people, but if I refer to someone as 'a love', it's a special kind of designation. A change in relationship type of status does not always end this designation in my mind - often these are bonds that can't be unwound easily, if at all. I had, have, and continue to have loves - I don't think I can be me and not have loves. An overflowing abundance of them, preferably.

'partners' are (or were) people with whom I had not only the above kind of relationship, and have both a romantic and sexual relationship, but there's a level of commitment (often including financial), and a mindset of being willing to reorder my life to keep that involvement. I've previously had partners; at this juncture, I don't know if I'll ever want, or have, another partner. At least not until I heal whatever it is inside of me that tends to be willing to allow myself to be subjugated by people who fit this descriptor.

My first year here amongst burners, I was so so very sure that I'd never want to go, but I enjoyed watching, and helping, the preparations to leave. My second year, I was graciously gifted a ticket and with more excitement than trepidation, I joined in my own preparations. This year I watch again - and though I know it is for the best, it is so wistful. The part of me that longs to go is vast.

I could've never guessed how much I'd be changed.

I would say enjoy the trip Home for me, but 1) my god, don't - don't you dare burn for any one else but yourself, and 2) my home is no more that place than any place, it is the community, it is you.

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Friday, August 1st, 2014
8:06 am - like the dervish's spiraling dance
I woke up very early with the migraine I'd gone to bed with having worsened. I took some pills, and laid down to read a book of short stories, a little wistful that I am not often the little spoon. I drifted back off, and woke again disoriented because I had dreamed? or just had the sense of being in the big bed back in PA sandwiched comfortably between two others, warmed by others' body heat the way flame feels on your face when the air around you is brisk.

In reality, the cat had crawled beneath the blankets with me, and stretched himself so long that his head was cradled at my arm, with his toes tucked at my knee.

It felt as if the universe so loved me it had rearranged itself to comfort me.

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Monday, July 28th, 2014
1:10 am
The other day a friend asked me to explain why I go through some much trouble, seeming to bend over backwards, to remain civil in what she described as negative relationships.

I said: When you're self-aware, and struggle and fight so much within yourself, you develop a distaste for experiencing that externally as well, let alone causing it on another.

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Saturday, July 26th, 2014
2:17 am
An old love, with no sense of US geography, is finding herself on our west coast. In the Pacific North West. She asked, hopefully, if she'd be able to visit me. aww, love. right longitude, wrong latitude.

It came at a time when I was weighed down by thoughts of how much trouble I've been, concerned that a past love keeps expressing a relief to be free of me, so I was especially glad of it. This keeps cropping up in my mental landscape, and yet time and time again I am reconnecting with these people with words like "I've often thought of you fondly" hugging me hello again.

I wonder why one person's negativity can so easily drown out so many's expressions of love?

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12:07 am
I had an amazing conversation with someone today about a lot of things that I really struggle to feel articulate about but are deeply important to me. In my excitement to share I'd tried to replicate the convo more or less faithfully but with identifying info removed, but it just doesn't work. It was too long, to big and complex, so... stream of consciousness instead:

Art, evocations of drabness to please the muses, my Faith and synaesthesia, the trickster nature of greenmen and fire, the ancient compulsion of self-immolation as a metaphor of willingly dying on the sword of someone else because they are one of the few things that make your neurons want to ecstatically throw off restraint in celebration of life, gutterly moaning and then screaming FUCKYES - craving a connection that is not a pinched and faulty chord but the naturally ebbing tides with their constant pull of the moon, a surface which reflects light. Grokking.

I am grateful for a life which reflects increased incidences of FUCKYES.

I am grateful for a life where even in the depths of depression I feel the call of these moments.
That no longer is my depression made worse by someone else's urges to make me smaller than I am, to make me something other than I have always been, to make me feel worthy of less than everything. I am grateful that I've not one, but MANY, people who love me, who love my laugh and snuggles, who seek me out and sit on my lap and pet my hair. Who ENCOURAGE me to sing, and to sing with all my heart, rather than shushing me because they only hear flaws. Who do not complain about my wordiness, but tell me how much they like my turn of phrase or how interesting a way of looking at things I have. Who never make me feel small, who foster ways in which we can build one another up. Who do not pretend that I am perfect, but who love me enough to not lie about my weaknesses and encourage me to better myself, to realise that I am a badass capable of SO MUCH MORE badassery.

FUCKYES, FUCKYES, a million times FUCKYES.

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Friday, July 25th, 2014
1:37 pm - a thing I've realised
It is okay if you never loved, or will never love, me like you do [other person].

You loved, and will continue to love, me - as you do me. That is far more beautiful, far more fitting. I am a stunningly unique thing that deserves to be loved for and as only itself.

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