Friday, May 04, 2007

I am trying...it's been a day.

First a quote from a prayer by Rob Brezsny's website:

EAR GODDESS, sweet Goddess, you sly universal virus with no freaking opinion:

Please help all the personal growth addicts out there to become disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation, not destruction.

Teach them the difference between oppressive self-control and liberating self-control.

Awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it is impossible to do the totally right thing.

Arouse the Wild Woman within them—even if they’re men.




Most of all, Goddess, brainwash them with your freedom so that they never love their own pain more than anyone else’s pain.


I have been (nothing new I know) very stressed out lately today I am feeling emotionally very transperant and fragile. A wrong word might I don't know crack me across the forehead or some such.

My own Wild Woman Within is fucking asleep or she's dead I'm not sure. I hate this feeling.

Everything feels somehow wrong or out of place and I don't like it.

However I do see the value in it and want to be able to get through it. I am trying very hard to remember that the Universe/Gods/Goddesses/Uncle Fuckers out there are not trying to kill me even if it feels like it. I can breathe and I will be all right.

One thing that makes me feel better is I finally got my syndication (feed) issue sorted. Look on the right there and you can add my feed to google or you can subscribe via the email. Nudiemuse all up in yer inbox yo.

So as my emotions are going weee...OH HAY LOOK YOU GOT TEARS I'm going to share a little memory.

Imagine if you will your very own Nudiemuse in the 6th grade. Just getting into super fabulous make up, and into pastels. No seriously pastels I shit you not.

So when I was in the sixth grade I developed myself some very cute little boobies however I was very averse to wearing a bra. I also loved to dance back then. And I was into HUGE hair. Hair hopper. I kid you not. So this big dance came up at the Tukwila Community center and of course I wanted to go. Which I did.

I spent probably four-five hours getting ready. I crimped every inch of my thick just past shoulder length hair then man handled it into a hugely crimpy on one side, slicked back over the ear type do. Then the make up.

Brace yourselves.

Shimmery shades of pewter and gray from lashes to eyebrow. Sadly I was actually better at blending back then but whatever. I'm talking high frost BLING from back in the day. And of course what to go with it. Wet N Wild fuscia lipstick.

And the outfit.

Pastel colors of course, save for my acid wash jean skirt mini, white ankle socks, lavender faux Keds (because I didn't wear real Keds those were fucking expensive) a pastel peach tank top and the topper a pastel lilac huge shoulderpad having blazer. I was a Miami Vice worthy hottie and fucking knew it. I. KNEW. THIS.

So armed with 4 dollars, 3 for entrance and 1 for a soda or whatever I went to the dance.

I danced my wee heart out and was chosen by the D J to participate in a dance competition. With older kids. Eighth graders.

What I remember is dancing my wee heart out and making it to the last two. Dancing with a cute boy who's family mine knew for years. And I won. Then he gave me a hug and said I was a great dancer. I also recall slow dancing with this boy to some Def Leopard song.

That was one of the first time I felt (I didn't understand at the time) a sense of power and awe about something I could do. I felt beautiful.

In the intervening years I've found and lost that feeling many times over. Felt like I could conquer the known world with gigantic brains and a formidable bust. It's a good feeling to me. I want it back.

It's difficult when the real adult word presses in and I'm spending time worrying bout work, money the future to feel just powerful and beautiful.

It's a sacred thing to me and I believe I will get it back.

I have to believe that.

Homo Out.

PS..feel free to get my blog via subscription that would be cool.
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