If There Isn't Any Fine Print ...

So, I’ve spent a great deal of time doing for others and making sure that other people are happy. I realized this week that that includes trying to take advice. And of course with advice, comes opinion and we all know what opinion are like ...  I’ve been fooled by the love goggles many a time. This is how I wound up spending the last 4.5 years in a semi-dazed, alternating, happy/unhappy existence of not knowing who I was. I don’t want to end up there again. I almost did a few weeks ago. I nearly started a relationship wherein it started out with me feeling self-conscious of who I was.

Here’s how that dreadful feeling began. We were at coffee, and I was telling potential suitor #1 that we needed to take some steps back because feelings were developing and it wasn’t going to go anywhere. It was followed by a feeling of sadness and loss, but it felt right. We went on to talk about our fears of this “potential” relationship wherein he expressed a fear that he’d be settling anyway.

Excuse me?

Insert double take here, right? Nope, instead, I played the sympathetic card. The convo continued and this was stated: “I usually prefer more feminine women.”

Excuse me, again?

Did he just say that? It felt like déjà vu and my brain went to the memory of my ex-fiancé who had stated a similar sentiment. Surely you would think that this would motivate me to stick to my guns, but alas, no. I began to wonder if this was a flaw of mine and would I ever find the man of my dreams being the tomboy I was. This is the point where I started to feel uncomfortable for being me. I ignored it, still afraid of being myself.

We ended the night with me giving it a week to be sure and seeing if a date with Suitor #2 would help me decide. He told me some things that every girl wants to hear: “I choose you. I want you.” Ahhh ... the sweet sentiment. He left and I went inside. He called me an hour later, or maybe I called him. We spoke and suddenly, idiotically, I put a gag over the mouth of Reason and decided, fuck it. I’ll take him. The part that was thinking of Suitor #2 went to the corner and sulked.

Things felt glorious for the next 18 hours or so until I went on my daily walk. It was night; the house lights and stars were reflecting on the lake. It was absolutely beautiful. I immediately wished I could share it with Suitor #2.

Wait ...

Didn’t you choose Suitor #1?

Why are you thinking about the other guy and wishing he was with you to share it? Damn.

I woke the next morning panicked. I couldn’t do it. I kept thinking about the expressed sentiment of settling, the femininity statement, and just a gut feeling that it wasn’t right. I told him I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Intuition said it was all wrong.

So we come to Suitor #2. The one that I couldn’t stop thinking about. He was confused by my sudden decision so we met for coffee. We went for a wonderful, ball-freezing walk ... our energy playing with each other’s ... just enjoying the company of our selves and one another.

The night ended beautifully.

He told me that I was worth waiting for. Not that I wasn’t quite his type. Nope. 

I was worth waiting for.

So, here’s the tough, or not-so-tough, part. There’s something there that borders on magickal, is sincere, honest, and amazing. I can think of no reason to not move forward, save Fear. And Fear is an asshole. He’s like a bully that threatens that any action taken will end in an “unspoken result”. 
It’s come to this:

Fuck Fear. He can kiss my ass. 

When I can’t think of a single reason to say ‘no’ and every reason to say ‘yes’, then I know my answer.

Train Station

Love can hurt, blind, and steal.

The theft of sight, replaced with zeal.

You can run,

Or embrace.

Either way, it’s in your face.

Taunting you like a child,

‘Til you relent and just go wild.

Plans are made.

Promises broke.

In hindsight, it’s all a joke.

And so you pack your bags and go,

And wait in pain for the next to show.

My Door

There is a door. It’s my door.


On the other side is my complete happiness. I can hear it calling to me.

It’s a beautiful door; one I’ve hand-carved. It took me a long time to get it to look this ornate.


I’ve spent many years just looking at the door and tracing and retracing the patterns itched into it.


The problem is, a long time ago, someone put a lock on it-could have been me.


I’ve been trying to open it, but haven’t been able to.


I have the wrong set of keys. None of them could quite turn the lock. I tried jiggling the handle and putting the keys in backwards. There were even times when I tried filing the edges of some of those keys to get them to fit, but I only managed to mess up the keys instead.


So I’m left standing in front of a door that has an enormous lock on it and a ring full of keys that won’t open it.


I think I’m going to drop those keys and take a step toward the door and I’m not entirely sure, but mostly sure, that when I try the knob, it won’t be locked anymore.

The Circus

Seasons change to suit the time.

Where you were when you were mine.

All I wished from them was change.

But all I got was lots of pain.



Asking birds to live at sea.

I tried to change you to suit me.

I shake my head in sorrow now,

For each one tried but did not bow.



Now I wander feeling hurt.

For what I want but now avert.

I run and hide.

Fear now my guide,





I asked you not to yield to me.

But smiling you changed things to be

With me you always wanted it.

So why am I afraid to admit?



That you are all I ever want.

To hold, smell you,

Please don’t taunt.



I’m yours if you are not afraid

To guide me through this



Grand Parade

the road to nothingness

So here’s the deal: I’m stuck. I’m in the proverbial rut and I’m spinning my tires. They won’t budge. I tried stepping out of the vehicle to take a look at the problem, and they’re stuck in the mire of excess, spinning their little hearts out. They’ve been spinning so long that they’ve left 6” grooves in the noxious soup.