Dear "Fitness" Gym,

I abhor you.

You make me feel like a purple headed alien with five tongues and three breasts.

I've never done a whole lotta time in any gym (in case that wasn't obvious already), and when I have, I've always felt that I was some weird de-flowered little hippy chick trying to make her way through the city of the buff and the beautiful.

Tonight, realizing I lacked any sort of real exercise in my life and that this was not conducive to having a swimsuit model body (with abs and an ass your could bounce quarters off of) this summer, I went to the gym.

There was about three other people in the gym (one of them the friend I went with) and I.swear.to. god they were staring at me, waiting for the spectacle that would be me mating with one of those machines.

For comfort and safety sake, I tried the fancy elliptical machine first. I (sort of) have one at home (it's broken at one speed and is currently sitting in my back yard). I figured I would, at least, be one with this machine - however, the big difference was, its buttons worked. I was supposed to hit some numbers...? and maybe the "ok" button? But, to be honest, I panicked and just hit random buttons, and then I started 'walking,' but it was quickly like running... and I couldn't really keep up with the machine. Tension? Where was the tension to make this thing slower? Like a rabbit on speed, I tried to keep up.

"How do I slow this thing down?" I asked my friend beside me. "It's, like, running away from me..."

She looked over at me a little perplexed and said, "Umm, just slow down?"

Like, with my body did she mean? But, it was like a bike in first gear going down hill. My limbs flailed to keep up and body barely followed. Slow down?

I tried to make it look like I knew what I was doing, I tried to play it cool....

After a time, I said "Whew, that's probably good for now, I gotta go snowboarding tomorrow, I don't wanna over do it. How long was that do you think?"

She looked over, "Four Minutes?"

Oh, good then.

Succumbed

Mind bending - that is what my daily life has become. All at once, ambition surmounts production. or so it would seem.

As I write this, I see, in my peripheral, the sleeve of my cozy housecoat; it is a fine mixture of soft fleece and Golden Retriever fur. Suddenly, I long for a someone to come into my home with the biggest masking tape lint roller and eradicate it and me of every single shedded blonde fluff - make me clean again, please?

And as I sit here, supposedly doing my homework, I look around and take stock of the state of my affairs and promptly pull a blanket over my head. I have succumbed.

Clothes on the bathroom floor - panties run a muck, lame small town newspapers litter the floor, shoes times a billion lay in wait - ready to trip you. Dishes, oh my god - the dishes, tighten under the grip of dried oatmeal...

and I think, "I am stuck here until April." I must succumb. There is no way my house is going to stay clean... I.must.let.it.g- g- g- go. I must live in the mountain of clean and dirty laundry. I must forget that I have a dresser, it is now a table my bedroom TV sits on. I must forget I have a vacuum. I must forget that I have hardwood floors, not a blonde shag carpet. I must forget.

I have truly taken on too much. Shit.

You Need To

"shut the fuck up" - is what I wanted to say.

My three year old niece has come to live with me for a time (perhaps 3-6 months), and we all know or remember how sweet and endearing three is, right? It's a bit of an understatement when I say, she hasn't been given the best structure in her home (like she cries every time she hears the word "no"), but she's a good kid over all. When I first picked her up and we drove in the car, she said "You need to turn it lowwwder..." about the music.

Awe, that's cute - for about three days. Two weeks into her being here and I come to find there is a lot of stuff that I apparently "need to" do.

It's been seven years since I last raised a three year old, and it came as a bit of a shock how mature a ten year old is to a three year old. Who knew. Suddenly, I was forced to back in time to when I had to teach a free spirit.... boundaries - my boundaries.

Let me tell you, ugh.

First things first, when I had come to the final straw of being told what I needed to do for the three year old (princess, like her mama), I turned to her and said, "Okay! Know what? You..." and I heard the words about to come out of my mouth before I spoke them and it didn't make sense.... "You need to stop... telling me ....what I need to do" ?

Damn it. The three year old had me boxed into corner. I was using her own logic against me. How was I going to teach her not to say that if it was, apparently, what big people told little people ALL the time.

You need to pick up your toys. You need to go to bed. You need to eat lunch. You need to, you need to, you need to...

Umm?

So, here I am again, reasoning with a young mind, and it all comes rushing back to me: creative direction. Also, I need to reinforce my inside boundaries, kids smell fear and weakness.

I couldn't say "I want you to stop telling me what I need to do" all nicey nicey. No, the kid would have me over her knee.

I couldn't yell and be pissed off that a three year old was bossing me around. I couldn't send her to her room for communicating poorly (or could I?).

Suddenly, I hated the way "you need to" sounded. I wanted something different, but what?

I bent down to her eye level and searched for all the kindness and understanding in my soul and said "Mara, don't tell me what I need to do. You are not allowed to, okay?"

She's three, it has to be simple and direct. No bullshit. And you know what, it's the fucking truth. I explained to her like I would explain how one apple plus one apple equals two apples. No judgment. Clean. Respectful. It's just the way it is.

You know what she said, "Okay, Auntie Mantra."

You teach people how to treat you.

Weird Science

I feel a little broken - like a broken record, broken heart-ish, broken brain. Everything is really good-ish but it also feels like there is a avalanche right behind me that is catching up. I think I can still run faster though.

I'm in a odd mood, it must be the full moon. I feel angry and sore, falling just short of walking down the street naked and screaming fuck you to no one in particular - cathartic, no?

Friday night aint what it used to be.

Nicotine Juice (Insert Drool Here)

I had a dream I was smoking last night, only they were plastic cigarettes, like those wax tube candies that had sugar water in them, maybe you remember those things? Anyways, this dream comes from a mixture of me dying to smoke a real cigarette again (it's been a year and half since I quit- can you believe it?) and the invention of the (wait for it)... !*e-cigarette*!.

Who ever invented this little beauty, I love you - unconditionally. I've yet to get my hands on one of these, and I make a plan every weekend to find a real cigarette and smoke it, but I'm not worried because soon - I will smoke liquid nicotine and not worry about cancer. No more nails in my coffin. I will e-smoke. If technology was a man, possibly going by the name Jean-Luc, I would do him, right here, right now. My clothes would drop off and I would say "give me your e-penis."

The way it works is simple. Each electronic cigarette or "e-cig" has a battery, an atomizer, and a cartridge filled with a liquid nicotine solution. Upon inhalation, a device is switched on which sends a signal to a heating element inside of the unit, called an "Atomizer". The e-cig atomizer heats up quickly and vaporizes the liquid nicotine solution into a vapor that replicates the look and feel of smoke" (taken from the Vaporking website).

Oh Emm Gee. It's like cooking nicotine crack, right? But, healthy crack, right? I am elated.

Sure, there are some nay sayers to this, the greatest invention since sliced bread. There are those that would suggest that inhaling propylene glycol via an atomized "fine aerosol" is bad (what?). To that, I respond simply with the ever intelligent "whatever" and "gimmie gimmie."

I love the language they use on the Vaporking site to sell their product (hello? you had me at "e-cig"). It's like when the Snuggie explained just how complicated regular blankets are (and to think, all this time I've been burdened by the old blanket).

The E-cigarette is also self sufficient, so this means you do not need any lighters, matches, or ashtrays - all which add up rather expensive over a period of time.

Like I needed the attraction of saving all those pennies on all those lighters and matches I never bought and always managed to lift off my peers (thanks, btw), and all those ashtrays I never used. Silly Vaporking, just send me the goods. Now.

My cigarette addiction is alive and kicking. I have rationalized smoking the ever complicated and costly real cigarette (because, damit, my life is complicate and I need it) today because soon...sigh... I will have a new friend. I can even buy my new friend in pink with purple LED.

My god e-cig, will you never stop giving?




I'll even leave you guys with this (because I'm sure I haven't put enough links in this post already)




He's kinda cute, right? Even with his big "air quotes." I'll even over look that he's smoking menthol (because everyone knows that is not really smoking. pft.)

Winter

The wind is absolutely howling outside, joined by pounding rain. I am so glad that it is winter wind and not fall. As beautiful as fall is - I hate it right now. I hate the thought of coming into winter but am eternally grateful for being in winter right now.

Stopped and dead, except for wind and rain. Everything is stopped and dead.

I can do stopped and dead right now. I can't do full of life.

I can do protect yourself from the elements. I can't do embrace the world.

I want to do shut up and pull a touque over my eyes and ears. I want to hide in winter and make everyone else shut up too. Pack your mouths with snow.

Edible Loser

Manifesting is hard work. Staying positive is also difficult. I always remember that one part in that stupid Secret movie where someone says... (and I'm paraphrasing, of course) don't give up on your manifestations, because...

and then they show this wee little seedling just about to burst through the dirt - but then you stopped manifesting, so it shriveled up, right then and there, and died before it ever got to emerge - all because you lost hope. Way. to. fuckin. go.

So, don't lose sight of that dream. Don't base your life today on it, but don't lose sight of its truth inside of you. HOLD THE VISION.

Resist licking self pity like it's the last of the peanut butter in the jar. I struggle with this one (no way, really?).

I think that, for the most part, the difference between people who have achieved their goals and the ones that haven't could well be that the ones that did - tried and tried again in the face of "no."

It's tough getting bitch slapped around by reality and coming back for more, again and again. But, looking around this great big world where nobody seems to be offering yoursospecial handouts, I guess I'll keep doing it.

I would like to be allowed at least five minutes of whatta loser thoughts before the little seedling thing dies though, okay?

And, if I die having only ever held the vision, then that's okay too. Whatever.

This is my Tattoo

Colored red stained on my skin
rubbing naked frustration
into my temple
watching you watch me
flicking and fucking with desire
forgetting
forget
turning my back
looking for you
forever on my goddamn skin

Pee in my Cornflakes (and then some)

Sometimes, I rather like it when someone pisses in my cornflakes. I like it when I can look at a picture of you, or you, and think... yeah, fuck off.

I walk around my pompidity like a prancing pink salmon swimming down stream - smoking a cigarette because I can.

I wish I could harness this feeling for longer periods of time. There is something attractive about being a bit of a bitch (to people who deserve it (you know who you are even if I don't) ) and not caring what people think, it's very freeing.

So, and without further ado, to those of you who know they deserve a little spiritually healthy finger of a certain length, this ones for you. hugs, xx's, and a happy fucking new year.

Now, having said that, I am going to leave and go do unmentionable and lewd things to my brains, and I'm going to do it until I'm fucking exhausted.







ps: if you're reading this and realize it's not you that needs the spiritual finger but know someone that does... feel free to hit the Facebook button and pass it on. Call it constructive criticism, they'll understand. It could be, like, your new year's resolution to help all your friends by passive aggressively telling them to fuck off - in my bitchy state, I would enjoy that.

Happy Again. Help Me

I thought it best to wonder why I was having visions of putting a vodka bottle to my lips and just drinking until it was gone. just going blind - rather unlike me, really.

Then visions of turning my car into the telephone pole as I'm driving along - just to put me out of my silent misplaced misery, the one I seem to gloss over as intermittent.

Vodka and car crashes somehow seem to be hiding behind a mild manner and smile. A small time bomb pulls at my attention.

Only, it's okay... because this is me we are talking about. I never lose my cool. It's just that human quality scratching at the insides of my head.

It's just a natural phase.

I'm always searching for that most honest spot in my body and some days I think I've found it. Then, the next day, I look back and everything that looked right yesterday looks like someone else' clothes today.

I'm having a hard time feeling right in my skin. I'm probably trying too hard. I think I would like to go invisible - stealth like.

If I were to honest to god manifest what I want in my life, it would sound something like closing my eyes real tight and:

there would be a lot of laughter. There would and will be honest to god success in creative aspects of my life...: there would and will be clay, words, paint, and pictures. I could and will let go of those other ties that bind.

There would and will always be a gentle, warm wind at my back - like kissing.

I would and will never regret what I say . I would and will never regret who and why I am.

One Love

Letting go and getting lost in the quiet between the triangle of mind and heart. Slowing down the beats per minute and watching every moment with clarity and a natural smile. Hearing pins drop in a noisy metropolis...

the ability to control how you respond to your environment and how your environment responds to you.

the ability to walk with the deepest knowing that you are one.

This is what I wish for me and all of you.

A Debbie for Mantra?

I need help. A whole lot of help. I need Debbie. Debbie Travis.

Debbie Travis? You were in my dream last night, I was on the phone with you, Debbie Travis, and telling you all about how our house was almost done - but, that we lacked, well... Debbie Travis to get the job done right.

It's all I want for Christmas, I swear (well Debbie Travis and that raven pendent/charm by Thomas Sabo).

On my dream phone that was right beside my bed, I told you about the tiles in the bathroom shower and you just understood my pain so well. The grout is gone to shit and some parts can't even be re-grouted (I could see you nodding in understanding through my dream scope vision. You.get. me. Debbie Travis, and I dig that about you).

I also told you about downstairs and how it just needs that extra bit of help.

The kitchen. oh yeah... you shook your head and I hung mine in a small bit o' shame. It's awful, I know. But, what can I do Debbie Travis? I'm at my wits end. I need you.

In my dream you agreed. You even gave it emergency priority - all I had to do was get you my info and you were going to be here to FIX MY HOUSE pronto.

I welled and wept tears of joy... Debbie Travis was coming to my house - at last. Yes?

No.

I woke up. No phone beside my bed to have spoken to Debbie with. Debbie dream scope vision all but disconnected... I sat up disorientated and a little desperate to return, but it was too late.

So it is that I write to you, Debbie Travis, with the unbridled enthusiasm and cockeyed optimism of a sleepy girl holding on to a dream, hoping that you will hear my plea - Debbie Travis. Please.

You.complete.me.

As I know Christmas is a busy time for all, I will patiently (because I do patient so well) await your response. I look forward to the time when we can be together (I'll make you cookies and everything. I promise). I can picture us both, our hair flowing back as we laugh and laugh like the very best friends we will be.

Thank you, Debbie Travis.

Debbie Travis, Debbie Travis, Debbie Travis, there's no place like home, Debbie Travis.