Drawing- mixed media
Drawing- mixed media
Everyone has had that day where they wake up wishing they hadn’t consumed that much alcohol. The hangover can be a treacherous time; You wake up and the whole room is spinning and any little sound sounds like nails on a chalkboard [do they even have those anymore?] and you recall the night before. Or worse, you have to enlist a friend to tell you about it. You find that you danced on a table without any music playing, you screamed that you loved everyone, you told someone you hated them and the exact reasons why; you cried in the bathroom, you embarrassed yourself in front of a group of potential suitors with your terrible dance moves!
You get to hear these things, or recall them; so here’s the question:
If a drunk [man’s] words are a sober [man’s] thoughts;
Would it not follow that:
The actions of a drunk [man] are a sober [man’s] fantasy?
Let’s break this down into semantics for clarification. Drunk being a brain on alcohol, for instance; Sober being a brain in stasis. Words being the things said; thoughts are the internal dialogue. Actions being a situation acted out; while fantasy would be something a person only dreams of doing.
Many of people use substances as a social lubricant; they want to sing karaoke, for instance, but can only get up the nerve after a few drinks. They speak their mind sober with reverence to others; when drunk, however, they speak. their. mind. And, they do so without worry about sharp edges. They are brutally honest. It’s not that they enjoy the emotional outburst of another; or, maybe they do! If you were to raise your eyebrow and ask; remain silent after the protest, they may just babble off with the real answer. Even sober.
Nobody wants to see the negative parts of themselves. Nobody wants to hear laughing while they are singing poorly. Nobody wants to be thought of as uncompassionate. And substances drop the veil of what you see and what you get. It’s not as though we are drastically different once we tip the scale of substances and weigh out drunk. We just lack the inhibitions to act our reserved; sober, self.
So, does being drunk reflect our truest self? Or are we not comprised of a combinations of our thoughts and words; our actions and fantasies? Are we just what we are when we are reserved? When our inhibitions are in tact?
Do we not “Love these guys” without alcohol on our breath?
Without our inhibitions; when our reservations are not as prominent; when we are most likely to “kiss the girl”; to stand on a stage and sing that song only our steering wheel has heard you sing; are you anyone. but. yourself? An honest self.
Substances are not an excuse for the actions of your ‘honest-self’. You can say you would NEVER do that [or say that; etc.] without said substance and maybe be telling the truth. But, is that because your honest-self and reserved-self do not comply to each other? Or because substances make you a different person?
Everyone is celebrating the rights of gays to be married across all fifty states and I’m over here like, “So what?” Church and state are supposed to be separate anyway. So; why did we ever allow the federal government or the state to poke their noses into our homes? Or more importantly, our bedrooms? How you choose to live should never be dictated by someone else and their religion. It’s your inherent right to love. And if love means marriage for you, why do you need permission? Gay or straight, the whole concept of having to ask permission from the state to be wed should be an insult!
But, we’re celebrating. It’s a step in the right direction. I remember detesting the sanctions of matrimony in my days of engagement. Yes, I was engaged; twice. I never could put my finger on why I didn’t want that church wedding with a priest standing with me at the end of aisle. I just felt that getting married should be something personal and private. With the state involved marriage becomes a contract. It’s not about love anymore. You are promising the state; and your partner; and the priest; and everyone you invite to the ceremony, something that you can’t actually promise. That you will always feel the way that you do.
As most little girls do, I dreamed of my wedding. Calla lilies and peacock feathers as my bouquet, located in a birch forest or by a beach (I had time to sort through all that; I was 6!), but, never in my fantasies about being married was there ever, EVER, a priest. I never imagined signing a marriage license with my significant other, never dreamed that I may have to petition to be with someone that I wanted to be with. I wonder… Am I alone in this?
If you’re opposed to polyamory, you’ve never been in love. Now, before we set fire to the torches and gather your pitchforks let me attempt to express this notion. To be truly, polyamorous; it means to love without bounds and believe that you can love more than one person. It’s not negating soulmates and true love. It’s negating the notion that there is only one person for you. It’s saying that when you get involved with more than one person that you love and cherish them. If you have been in love; like, the real kind where you worry about that person’s happiness and wonder if you could possibly be enough to satiate their desires and needs truly, you know that their happiness is truly important. And, hell! If you’re truly the only person they need and vice versa then, by all means; rock on with your bad selves in monogamy, no judgement!
What I’m saying is: If your partner needed something else from someone else would you sacrifice the entire relationship over one missing puzzle piece? If you truly loved them, it would be heart wrenching to watch them slowly suffer because they’re not as happy as they could be. Yeah, it’s nice to own someone. I get it. But, it’s not love. If you’re lucky enough to find one single person who makes every part of your being pulsate and can truly match your intensity, someone who judges you just enough for your comfort and can make you feel like you’re the only you and you matter; then, hold onto that. But, if they need something else don’t be opposed to altering your definition of cheating.
Back when I was truly monogamous, I got cheated on. I remember the pain. I remember feeling so heart-broken because of what had happened. But, the more I contemplated the act of cheating, the more time I spent dwelling on the occurrences that happened, the more I realized that it wasn’t even the sex that bothered me. It was the lying, the sneaking around, and the feeling that I was stupid or that my partner thought I was stupid. THAT; was the problem. Cheating adapted for me to being dishonesty at a particularly young age.
When I realized I was a serial monogamist at the ripe age of 20; having had 3 long term relationships from the age of 14 until then, I decided to date around. I met someone wonderful and wasn’t quite satisfied. I asked about an open relationship. But, it wasn’t the sex that was unsatisfactory; he wasn’t unsatisfactory in any way. I still wanted to see what was out there, I didn’t want to miss out on something because a relationship was holding me back. And, I didn’t want him to change! I expressed I wanted more from another relationship than just sex and until it was about to look him in the face, it was fine. He wasn’t being honest with me about his feelings, or even himself. He cheated. And, of course, I felt like the monster for wanting Mr. Drendel to be more than just an acquaintance.
Sadly, Mr. Drendel was only ever an acquaintance. My open relationship turned me into a piece of meat, property. How he reacted to a look across the bar will forever remind me that I will not be owned. And I left him. Maybe one day I’ll delve into that. Or Mr. Drendel. He’s a wonderful story to get into; one of regret.
After that, I spent some time solo. Moved away from the small town I was residing in and wondered if I was completely alone in my views on relationships. I got roped into online dating because I was “exiling myself and needed to meet at least some friends”, according to my roomie at the time. That was a joke. I didn’t have to meet any of these people to realize they weren’t what I wanted. I wondered if I was being too harsh. I started to message with someone who was so brutally honest that I was taken aback. He had a lover who knew he was on this website. He introduced me to poly. Not polyamory. Poly. There is a difference (this is sarcasm, but, many people believe there is a distinction. ASK!). Poly is when you’re afraid to be alone and are truly monogamous searching for someone to fulfill all your needs while still having someone in your bed. Essentially, you slut it out until you can dwindle it down to someone to be amorous with. Love is a deficit in poly.
Poly is the reason that so many people are opposed to polyamory. They think it is the same thing. But, in a truly polyamorous relationship it’s the amory that sticks you together… not the poly part. I have yet to be in a successful polyamorous relationship, or a successful poly relationship, or a successful monogamous relationship. If successful means that it lasts and you don’t split up because of whatever reason. I suppose I meet too many dishonest people. Which seems to be my Achilles heel. “Oh, please lie to me! It’s just so sexy!” However, I do have many relationships that are successful and not so romantic. So, that’s something!
If there is love, and hopefully not unrequited, there is a risk of loss because of something minor that could be solved by redefining cheating. Being honest is the key. Be honest to yourself and to your partner. And, maybe, single people should claim to be “dating” instead of “polyamorous”. You know; be honest. If you love nobody; you’re not polyamorous!
The only cling to polyamory I have left is my beloved friendships and my relationship with myself. I believe I’ve posted it someplace, but, in case you don’t know, I date myself. I spend a lot of time with me and make myself a priority. I will never put someone ahead of me. They can be my partner; but I am my own number one! My reasoning behind it is not important, though maybe someday I will discuss it.
In my polyamorous relationship with myself, I take myself out for coffee; sometimes just spending hours inside the coffee shop with a book or with my computer. Sometimes I sketch, sometimes I just relax. I don’t bring anyone with me on these dates. I don’t double date with myself. Sometimes my dates are more elaborate, I’ll take myself out to dinner. I will court myself. I buy myself roes; not just any roses, I buy myself “crystal roses” they’re not really crystal; plastic. But they never die.
This is what I’m going to talk about today. I am going to talk about the roses.
I keep them around to remind myself of all the symbolizing factors associated with the multicolored nature of the rose. I’ll start with my first rose. I bought two. A red and a yellow one. I brought one to a guy I was seeing and kept the other for myself. I originally intended for him to have the red one and me the yellow, but, he liked the yellow one. Said it was gold! He wanted that one. I shouldn’t have given him a choice. BUT; it started me off to realize the passion within myself, and the direction of that relationship.
The red rose is a rose that describes a deep desire for an individual. It is a sign of respect for the receiver, an indication of their courage. It describes a passionate relationship. One that isn’t easily disposed of. It conveys a deep emotion for the recipient; be it love, longing or desire. It describes a relationship that is passionate with someone that you admire. Having the red rose as my first rose reaffirmed that I will always be my “primary partner”.
The next rose I bought for myself was the white one. This one was to remind me that I am worthy of love and myself. When you receive a white rose you are being told by the giver that they are worthy of you. After that I bought myself a pink rose; this one was to remind myself to be gentle with myself. To appreciate myself. The yellow rose was given to me from a friend who knew I was doing this. The yellow rose is an indication of strictly platonic emotions. It represents joy and friendship. It means they care but, aren’t interested in something deeper.
After these I started to acquire somewhat unnatural colors. Purple/lavender. This color represents enchantment. A “love at first sight” sentiment. There is no indication of a life-long continuance of said feeling, but, an understanding that the giver is fascinated by you and adores you. The blue rose represents elusivity, the unattainable and the mysterious. The blue rose says that they want you but know they can’t have you.
There are more roses to gather. More colors to acquire. And more lessons to teach myself about my relationship with me. These roses are just a reminder to love myself. To appreciate myself and treat myself. I’m going to be with me until the day that I die, I might as well enjoy the ride!
I’m going to go on a new segment and I’m not sure where I am going with it quite yet.
“This is why we can’t have nice things”
So, fashion. I have my own ideas on fashion and don’t exactly interplay well with the “norms” of fashionable ideas. I like to push the envelope and mix things up and occasionally down-right terrify people with eccentricity. I wear my boots over my knees, my skirts to the floor and pair it with shirts that I rescued from the landfill. Everything deserves a second chance at life!
Kat Von D put out her newest line of lipstick and is getting some serious backlash from consumers for her naming choices. She refuses to apologize! Good for her! She has no need. Her reasoning is incredibly poetic!
She won’t back down; she won’t change the name. She has all of my support! Her lipstick “underage red” should continue to be named that! She is pointing a light at what it means to be young; not degrading women and promoting underage promiscuity nor any of that invoked thoughts of the term “underage”.
“Underage Red” is not a girly, pink shade. It is not a sophisticated, deep red either. It is an unapologetic, bold red. To me, “Underage Red” is feminine rebellion. -Kat Von D
The reason we cannot ever have nice things is because people read into things way too much. Instead of invoking memories of when we were all underage there is an invocation of glorifying underage “adult” behavior.
UNDERAGE RED.I have never expected everyone to understand or see things the way that I do. With that being said, I…
And now, I’m attempting to make lipstick.
I’ve been ragging on the public officials a lot lately. I hate the excuse that they are “just doing their jobs”. But, in reality, they are! They hate their job just as much as we hate ours. Going through the troll booth the other day I met an old woman who actually made me feel bad about handing her a handful of the most meaningless round things in existence; yes, I handed her a handful of pennies!
She didn’t care, though. She struck up a conversation with me, even though it was so busy. She complimented my brand new hair cut and dye job, which really surprised me because it’s edgy and she was elderly. She didn’t even bother to count out the change, she smiled and dropped it in her drawer, “Who cares?” she said with a smile, “It’s all spendable!”
And as I drove away from the building hindering my travel, I felt good about my encounter and good about my new haircut! She was sweet and kind. It sucks that she extorts us in the most trivial way, but, that doesn’t make HER a bad person. She’s just trying to make ends meet like the rest of us. Uneducated in the ways in which they are killing our liberties, like most people they just don’t know of any other way to live. Trolls are people too.
I think that old woman manipulated me to stop my saga of the Troll.
peAce, lOve, & anArchy
At this point, it is obvious that I have a serious
obsession vendetta against these roads. When faced with the dilemma of what we would do as a society without government the biggest question for the people who haven’t thought about it is “but; who will build the roads?”
Who the fuck builds these god forsaken roads now?
My whole life I have loathed the roads. They are never maintained and nobody seems to be held accountable for them. Your shocks are bad… can’t be our beloved roads being ill-maintained. Nope! Oh dear… Your tire is flat… you rim is bent… you missed work? Can’t the the fault of the pothole you hit on your way in; Oh no! it’s not the roads fault! You should drive more carefully. A pothole couldn’t possibly do that much damage. Whatever you do:
DON’T BLAME THE ROADS!
I grew up in a small town, the question for me was NEVER “who will build them” it was always “who builds these?” It got to the point where we, the town dwellers, just mapped out where these pot holes were and avoided them; mental maps of the best times of the year to use which roads. Remembering where each divot and bump, snow heave and crater was; knowing when to turn the wheel to skate between them. Driving is an art; and oh man, did we master it!
Now, I’m going to educate you on these stupid roads. I’m so angry I’m not even going to immerse you into the fantasy world I created. I don’t care to.
This is real life!
The roads are not built by the ruling class; they don’t like to get their hands dirty. Roads are built by independent contractors hired by the government because they think we’re too stupid to hire somebody to maintain the roads. Also, if you were to attempt to “fix” any problem with the roads you would think that you would get some compensation or a pat on the back from daddy government. You don’t. In some cases you can be fined for interfering.
They like to make life more complicated for you and fill their pockets. Remember, we’re all the red-headed step children (I assume no 1%er will find their way to my blog).
It would be possible to independently own and maintain roads without the stepping stone of daddy. But, I get it. Being blamed for what happens when the roads break your car is much easier than saying “Hey asshole! What gives? You’re just going to let the roads deteriorate beneath our vehicles?”
I just… No.~Poe out!
It feels like Spring today; what a wonderful feeling! The sun is out and those big bulky jackets and boots can stay in the car for all we care. It’s a perfect day to roam the streets and see all the people enjoying this beautiful day! Of course, it’s very important to buy those tickets today, because the trolls are also roaming the streets making sure we all pay the smaller fee and giving love notes when you lose track of time.
I only have a half hour.
Today I’m going to bitch about; drum roll please….
So you’re walking the street enjoying the sunshine, your only concern is getting hit by a car. However, you’re a responsible human and you are accustomed to being in proximity to these quick moving giants with other humans in their bellies. You understand that the side walk is the safest place to interact with these giants and that walking where they travel can be hazardous to your health. You know that the trolls paint the stones as a safer way to cross the roads and for the chickens they give you ducks.
QUACK QUACK QUACK
All the traffic has stopped, the painted lines are safe for you and your feet to proceed across. All the giants, teleportation machines and the humans from within have been stopped so that you can not look left and right. Great for busy intersections, but down right comical when nobody is in sight to cross. Everyone, just hit the button and walk anyway. Don’t wait for the quacking. Be an inconsiderate prick and hinder movement when completely unnecessary. This is why we can’t have nice things.
Don’t those ducks sound so purrttty?
During my walk around town, OH SHIT I’M OUT OF TIME!
Five minutes over my god damn time limit.
How will I ever have my homeless network and be Sherlock Holmes if I have to keep feeding my money into those stupid robots.
TO BE CONTINUED….