Sometimes, there are brief moments in life, where everything is wonderful as time stands still. It could be a hug, a smile, a laugh, a kiss... almost anything.
When I find myself in these moments, I always wish I could've done something MORE... not to lessen the sweetness of it, of course.
Instead, I have the memory of the moments to keep me warm until they fade away.
It is indeed just the sweet little time between hello and goodbye.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Another Distraction: Steampunky Writing. Not exactly Safe for Work
Still not up to the discussion on love and loss, but I am feeling touched by the Muse and so, writing!
I'm not really a fan of steampunk, but I like costuming and history and the like. I have decided to actually choose a 'persona' (Well, if I'm going to keep going to see SPG at steampunk cons, I may as well, right? It'll stop me from being at a loss when people ask "So who are you?")... I've actually been working on this choice off and on for about a year but after some thought I have changed my mind and who I wanted to be. Anyway. Here, I write a beginnning....
Now, most folks in this day and age are more interested in the here and now, and what's on the surface. I tell you, no one on this earth knows more about what's on the surface, and how to use it, than me.
I spent my youngest years in relative squalor. I'm not ashamed of it, you have to mindful of where you began to know where you are going. I lived with my parents, and with 4 older brothers. I wasn't as strong or as fast as my brothers at their work.. which I suppose made me be a bit of a disappointment. Still, to be sure, it was a wonderful time. When I was younger, we would all go down to see Missus Zantica. To say that I was enamoured with her is an understatement. She was always elegantly dressed, and had a voice that purred pure butter cream. Even with this softest of demeanor, there was a coolness to her that, if angered, turned into a red hot fire. Sometimes literally.
At any rate, she would give us sweets and tell us stories, which was more than I could ask for at home. She always spoke whimsically of Parisian towns and sensibilities, of cold wintry nights... of ballroom dances. Flights of fancy to be sure. And definitely different from the seedy bottom of San Diego. Missus Zantica always said she wanted to bring some class to this shanty town, one way or another. I would soon learn what exactly she meant by that.
It was not long after I blossomed that I came under her tutelage. It wasn't easy being a poor girl in this town, especially with my skin color, and so it was quite a relief to me (and my family) that I came into her 'care'. It was then that I learned my letters, and how to keep track of numbers, as well as other talents... ones which come to mind when they mention The Business, I'm sure.
The Missus instilled in me at that time an appreciation of who I was, who we all were. "When the clients come to see you, they are not just coming in for a cheap thrill. They want to be entertained, dazzled. You are the living embodiment of their every wish, dream and desire." These words she would often say to us before opening up shop in the evening, and these words I carry in my heart.
Even with all the flowery language, and pretty imagery, it was still a dirty time. Some menfolk were known to be ...rough.. with us. "Just a part of the business." Missus Z would say, as she bandaged us up. I...was often at the short end of this stick... but I still earned my keep, and kept myself tight lipped until one day...
I was 21 years old, and had been working for Missus Z for 8 years. She was old, then, on her last days even, though she still kept that fiery spirit that she was known for. She had called me in to see her, one afternoon. Her lawyer was there, a quiet gent with a nervous manner. "Ahh, hello there Francine. I was just drafting my will." Her head tilts towards the man. "We all know our time on here is short and, I wouldn't want you girls to go without, so here. Everything will be yours to do as you want."
And boy howdy, have I done it and moreso! Some folks say what I do is crude, but I am not running some cheap whorehouse by the waterfront. We accept all types, and each employee is treated with care and respect. I will not tolerate anyone abusing my sons and daughters. And I will make sure you will regret ever crossing Lady Ravenia.
...This is just a rough draft. There's more to tell, but I'm all out of writing juice for now.
I'm not really a fan of steampunk, but I like costuming and history and the like. I have decided to actually choose a 'persona' (Well, if I'm going to keep going to see SPG at steampunk cons, I may as well, right? It'll stop me from being at a loss when people ask "So who are you?")... I've actually been working on this choice off and on for about a year but after some thought I have changed my mind and who I wanted to be. Anyway. Here, I write a beginnning....
Now, most folks in this day and age are more interested in the here and now, and what's on the surface. I tell you, no one on this earth knows more about what's on the surface, and how to use it, than me.
I spent my youngest years in relative squalor. I'm not ashamed of it, you have to mindful of where you began to know where you are going. I lived with my parents, and with 4 older brothers. I wasn't as strong or as fast as my brothers at their work.. which I suppose made me be a bit of a disappointment. Still, to be sure, it was a wonderful time. When I was younger, we would all go down to see Missus Zantica. To say that I was enamoured with her is an understatement. She was always elegantly dressed, and had a voice that purred pure butter cream. Even with this softest of demeanor, there was a coolness to her that, if angered, turned into a red hot fire. Sometimes literally.
At any rate, she would give us sweets and tell us stories, which was more than I could ask for at home. She always spoke whimsically of Parisian towns and sensibilities, of cold wintry nights... of ballroom dances. Flights of fancy to be sure. And definitely different from the seedy bottom of San Diego. Missus Zantica always said she wanted to bring some class to this shanty town, one way or another. I would soon learn what exactly she meant by that.
It was not long after I blossomed that I came under her tutelage. It wasn't easy being a poor girl in this town, especially with my skin color, and so it was quite a relief to me (and my family) that I came into her 'care'. It was then that I learned my letters, and how to keep track of numbers, as well as other talents... ones which come to mind when they mention The Business, I'm sure.
The Missus instilled in me at that time an appreciation of who I was, who we all were. "When the clients come to see you, they are not just coming in for a cheap thrill. They want to be entertained, dazzled. You are the living embodiment of their every wish, dream and desire." These words she would often say to us before opening up shop in the evening, and these words I carry in my heart.
Even with all the flowery language, and pretty imagery, it was still a dirty time. Some menfolk were known to be ...rough.. with us. "Just a part of the business." Missus Z would say, as she bandaged us up. I...was often at the short end of this stick... but I still earned my keep, and kept myself tight lipped until one day...
I was 21 years old, and had been working for Missus Z for 8 years. She was old, then, on her last days even, though she still kept that fiery spirit that she was known for. She had called me in to see her, one afternoon. Her lawyer was there, a quiet gent with a nervous manner. "Ahh, hello there Francine. I was just drafting my will." Her head tilts towards the man. "We all know our time on here is short and, I wouldn't want you girls to go without, so here. Everything will be yours to do as you want."
And boy howdy, have I done it and moreso! Some folks say what I do is crude, but I am not running some cheap whorehouse by the waterfront. We accept all types, and each employee is treated with care and respect. I will not tolerate anyone abusing my sons and daughters. And I will make sure you will regret ever crossing Lady Ravenia.
...This is just a rough draft. There's more to tell, but I'm all out of writing juice for now.
Monday, March 5, 2012
What happens at Merkabah...
I'll continue with the loss writing at a different time... I have not really been up to it recently. Instead, let's talk about Merkabah, and creepy poem time.
Hum, Merkabah was fantastic, but, truth be told, I felt a little detached this session. I decided to go without the Kava this go 'round.... so I was flying solo, so to speak!
The energy was still pretty high/joyous, so that's good at least. I was in very good company (with my twinsies Jes and Greg. <3) but eventually I could feel the depression that had been haunting my anxiety all week seep in. I decided that that was probably the time to say my goodbyes and come home.
I drew and wrote a little bit. Mostly just thoughts but I decided to once again listen to my dream self and put to paper a poem I dreamt about reciting. The one picture I actually enjoyed drawing was of a field of flowers, with a butterfly landing on one of them. I wanted only a little bit of color, so though the page was full of them, I only colored the largest flower, the flower the butterfly was aiming for, and the butterfly itself. I like how it came out, which is rare for me and my pictures. Hah.
My poem...was... creepy, in a sweet way? Like Adele's Someone Like You. I'll put it here:
Even If
Even if the stars fell from the sky...
Even if the seas swallowed us whole,
If fires rained, and it hailed ash.
Even if we cried our last tears
Our last meal was made of sand,
If our last drink was just nothing...
Even if your smile spoke of someone new
Even if those kind eyes looked away
And you turned your back, hand in hand with someone else...
Even if....
Yeah, that's it. Sweet/creepy, huh? I am pretty sure I know where this is coming from... it's something that I've been fighting with for a long time. It's okay. I will be fine. It doesn't even hurt anymore.
I have been having terrible anxiety for now the 8th day in a row. I'm not sure how to manage it, now. I guess I will just trudge on. The Show Must Go On, after all.
Hum, Merkabah was fantastic, but, truth be told, I felt a little detached this session. I decided to go without the Kava this go 'round.... so I was flying solo, so to speak!
The energy was still pretty high/joyous, so that's good at least. I was in very good company (with my twinsies Jes and Greg. <3) but eventually I could feel the depression that had been haunting my anxiety all week seep in. I decided that that was probably the time to say my goodbyes and come home.
I drew and wrote a little bit. Mostly just thoughts but I decided to once again listen to my dream self and put to paper a poem I dreamt about reciting. The one picture I actually enjoyed drawing was of a field of flowers, with a butterfly landing on one of them. I wanted only a little bit of color, so though the page was full of them, I only colored the largest flower, the flower the butterfly was aiming for, and the butterfly itself. I like how it came out, which is rare for me and my pictures. Hah.
My poem...was... creepy, in a sweet way? Like Adele's Someone Like You. I'll put it here:
Even If
Even if the stars fell from the sky...
Even if the seas swallowed us whole,
If fires rained, and it hailed ash.
Even if we cried our last tears
Our last meal was made of sand,
If our last drink was just nothing...
Even if your smile spoke of someone new
Even if those kind eyes looked away
And you turned your back, hand in hand with someone else...
Even if....
Yeah, that's it. Sweet/creepy, huh? I am pretty sure I know where this is coming from... it's something that I've been fighting with for a long time. It's okay. I will be fine. It doesn't even hurt anymore.
I have been having terrible anxiety for now the 8th day in a row. I'm not sure how to manage it, now. I guess I will just trudge on. The Show Must Go On, after all.
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