I'm moving....

To Wordpress!

I have a new blog name and address, won't you please come play with me at my new blog?

My new home will be:

www.flyingmermaid.wordpress.com

crocs really are everywhere

This morning on the way to work:

Big biker dude.

Wearing seafoam green crocs.

Love it!

Sunday afternoon/evening. Myra is sleeping, Sam is snoozing on the couch. And the creative urges I have been sitting on, keeping them locked down, need to break free. I need to paint and draw and write, I feel like I won't feel settled today unless I do. I started creative writing Friday night, and like always, once I open the door a little, everything creative wants to come out.

I don't know why sometimes I feel afraid of being creative. It soothes me, it makes me happy. It makes me feel...good. Alive. And yet, I sit on it a lot. I'm trying to work on that.





With Sam asleep, I figured it would be a good time to start playing. He didn't bother me while I was drawing a tree with hot pink flowers that is everywhere down here, or when I was drawing my favorite foot bridge that I see on my way to work every day.

But Sam is apparently a painter. He had to help, check out my paints, see how I was mixing colors.





I haven't picked up paints in a very long time. I decided it was more important to play and put colors to paper instead of worrying it's not good. I think that is part of why I don't paint much. I love it, but I don't really know how to do it, or I don't know how to do it the way other people do. But just playing with colors, blending white into my swirly blues and greens, trying to make my heart have wings, it felt really good. So I guess I shouldn't worry about not doing it right.






It says: Let your soul and spirit fly free.

Painting, drawing and writing seem to do that for me.

Hrm. The painting is actually much more vibrant, and the photos in iphoto look brighter and richer. Not sure why they seem flatter on the blog.

mermaid, reborn

Picture from high school graduation trip to Aruba. I never wanted to come out of the water.

I have always described myself as a mermaid. I love being in the water. It feels like home to me. I grew up on the Massachusetts coast and spend most days on the beach in some way. I have no problem swimming in what other people consider really cold water (we were on the upper side of Mass, so we didn't get the tail end of the gulf current). As long as the water didn't cause me pain, I could happily swim and play in the waves sometimes for over an hour at a time. I used to only come out when I was little when my lips were purple and I was shivering and my mother insisted. And even today, when I go to the beach, no matter what the weather, I have to put my feet in the water. I just don't feel fully part of the beach and the ocean until I am splashing in the water.

Since moving to Portland a few years ago, I've had to get used to not living near water, and having to plan to go to the beach.

Now that we're in NC, we are no closer to the ocean than we were in Portland, but at least we are near lakes.

We went to a lake in North Raleigh today, and just being in water made me feel so happy and free, and like yes...ok, now it is summer.

I am still, and will always be, an ocean mermaid. Lakes just aren't the same, no waves, no tides, and the water was brown from the silt. But it was still nice to play in the water again. My mermaid self hadn't been out to play since my birthday weekend at the beginning of July. Far too long to be on landlegs.

Photobooth

Sitting on the couch on Friday night, listening to acoustic Cyndi Lauper, blogging, writing and playing with photobooth. T to me: "you are such an Apple ad right now."

I'm cool with that.

From creative writing prompts -- they provided the first line

She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened the box. After days and days of searching, combing through every store, wandering in and out of thrift stores, she finally found the perfect gift.

It was a small fairy pin, a little boy fairy sitting on a leaf, dangling his feet and grinning. It reminded her so much of him, the way that a grin could light his face at any moment. She often thought of him as a life size peter pan, impish grin, ready to take off on a new adventure at a moment’s notice.

He wasn’t afraid of life, of just trying something new, and not caring whether or not he failed. He just had to try it.

She so wanted to be like that. She wanted to feel brave and creative. She wanted to open the door inside that she kept tightly locked at all times because she was afraid that if she opened herself up, she would never be the same.

When personal monsters lose their power

My Ex was a personal monster of mine. I spent the last few years of the relationship very afraid of his anger, his temper. I was always looking over my shoulder, expecting him to show up at my work, angry or accusing me of cheating on him.

When I broke up with him, I was afraid of what he might do. He harassed me, called me at work all the time, crying or angry. I didn't want him to know where I was living, because I was afraid he would show up there.

The last time I saw him in person was more than two years ago, when I decided in one of the hardest decisions of my life, to return my beloved Loveday cat to him. T and I were going to be moving across country, and Loveday was absolutely terrified of travel, to the point of making herself hyperventilate. I thought it would be better and safer for her to go and live with him again, since I know he loved her and would give her a good life. But when I saw him, to drop Loveday off, I felt sick to my stomach from being scared of seeing him. T was in the car, and he and I had worked out a signal in case my ex did anything that made me uncomfortable.

But time passes, and I have healed and grown stronger. I'm happy and whole now.

I saw his picture yesterday, on the staff page of the newspaper I used to work for, where I met him. And it didn't affect me. A few years ago, just seeing his face would have made me feel uncomfortable. But I was fine, he was just a person, no longer a personal monster. He had no hold over me anymore. I even wrote to him, because I saw that he been named chief photographer for the paper, something he had wanted for a long time. So I wrote to him, to say congratulations, and we chatted back and forth a few times. I had thought about trying to email him a few times before, because I wanted to know how my Loveday was, but I didn't want him to have my contact information.

But now, with time and healing and a loving, wonderful relationship with T, I see that he is not a monster. He is a person who has a lot of issues and a lot of problems, but they don't affect me, and he can't hurt me anymore.

It felt good to release him and know that he no longer has any power over me. I don't have to worry anymore.

Push it

I had my last personal training session last night, at least for now. I will probably hire him again in a month or so for an additional boost.

I was definitely challenged last night, and by the end, I was sweaty and exhausted, but I felt amazing. And proud of myself, seeing where I am improving and getting stronger, knowing I pushed myself to do everything that the trainer asked of me.

I think getting challenged and pushed are really good things, despite how they might feel uncomfortable at the time. It's good to show you your progress, where you have gotten better, and where you can still improve.

How have you been pushed or challenged recently? How has it helped you? What areas could you use a push or need to be challenged in?

Lines

"I wear my skin lightly," she said. "Sometimes, I feel translucent, almost see through."

"That is because you are an angel," he said.

---------------------------------------------

When the wind is whispering around, swirling leaves on the ground, making you feel like if you spin just right, you can fly, that is when you can call Washara. But be careful. The witch of the winds does not bend to other's whims lightly. Her moods are as fickle as the wind she creates. She can be playful and light, or destructive as a hurricane. Choose your words carefully when you call to Washara.....

-----------------------------------------------

Put on your dancing shoes

I was reading Giggling in the Rain and her post about Get up and Dance made me want to make a Get up and Dance playlist of my own.

I am always dancing, I just love having fun to music. But I didn't have a playlist of the songs that make me have to get up and jump around.

Songs that have me shaking my boo-tay (warning, extreme cheese to follow):

Dig Down AdriAnne Lenker
Candy girl (sugar, sugar) Archies
It 's My Life Bon Jovi
Jump Jive And Wail Brian Setzer Orchestra
The Bible and the Belt Bucky Covington
Zoot Suit Riot Cherry Poppin' Daddies
Ain't No Other Man Christina Aguilera
Candyman Christina Aguilera
Girls Just Want to Have Fun Cyndi Lauper
The Lion Sleeps Tonight
Come On Eileen Dexie's Midnight Runners
The Bitch Is Back Elton John
Devil's Dance Floor Flogging Molly
Lucky Star Madonna
Cherry, Cherry Neil Diamond

What makes you feel like dancing?

Mmmm toes

The best thing you've ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously.





What? You got a problem?




Just about perfect in Myra's world -- she has fishy and her doggy tv. She will try to woof while still keeping fishy in her mouth.






In the world of furbabies, all is well.

Sam loves toes. He will come up to your unsuspecting tootsies and start licking them. If you leave him alone, he will soon start to nibble with excitement. I haven't figured out why toes are so tasty. He also really enjoys watching tv, he will sit there with his head cocked to one side, almost like he is listening.

Bedtime has become a little more complicated. Myra has always slept with us (well, she sleeps very happily in her crate until I go to bed, then she joins me). But she won't stay on the bed if Sam comes up when she first gets on. So when Tim tucks me in (yes, I insist on getting tucked in every night!), Myra gets up on the bed and Sammy gets locked out of the bedroom until Tim comes to bed. Myra is too tired to care at that point. Ah, the things we do to keep our furbabies happy!

My mornings are all about loving on these guys. Myra is in the front room waiting for her lovin, she starts rolling around so I can rub her belly. Sam will plop down right in front of her, purring as loud as he can, so I know I have to rub his belly too. It's a great way to start the day.

very pretty spam

This came in from the external website inbox I monitor for work.

The subject was "Autocad ready to download" (which is great all by itself). It is some of the prettiest worded spam I've seen in some time:

The mortal architect had brought to life,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
The pain of being born into matter.
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!
And melt the spirit; his mouth will distend
Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps.VI. Smeerenburg and the Whale-Oil Rush
A salamander scuttles across the quietAlberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo,
the foul pole relaxes. She's raged all afternoon
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
And half-starved foxes shake and paw
Against this sky no longer of our world

some fun, old (and embarrassing photos)

These are photos from my birthday scrapbook, which is very possibly my favorite gift ever.




A friend I made while I was in Ireland. This was one of the Irish isles, Innishmoore, I believe. My dad loves this photos, because he is not sure who looks more uncertain.





I have always been a mermaid (with land legs, unfortunately), so it makes sense that I would want to learn how to scuba dive and snorkel so I could spend lots of time under water. This is from a christmas morning, when I was in early high school. Photographed with me is Baby, from the short-lived show, Dinosaurs. He had a string on his back, and if you pulled it, he would say things like "Not the Mama!" and "I'm the baby, gotta love me." For some reason, he cracked me up.






Oh the pants. The humiliation of seeing this pants. And the horror of the knotted shirt. And yet I am blogging about them. What is the internet for, if not to show off embarrassing moments? This was on a nighttime party cruise in Aruba. I went there with my parents after my high school graduation. I remember thinking how great I looked in that outfit. Ah, the wisdom that comes with hindsight....

When having a vivid imagination is not a good thing

I have a really vivid imagination. Sometimes, this is a fun, cool thing. I get lovely pictures in my head from hearing different songs. I get great ideas for stories. I can spread my arms on a windy day and really be flying.

Other times, particularly when I dream, it's not always a good thing. Because I don't just have vivid, fun, or silly-weird dreams. I often have violent, intense dreams. And they are crystal clear, and loud, and very, very real. It is as though I am in that world. Sometimes, I am the victim of the violence, often I am just watching.

Last night I had one of the more violent dreams in recent memory. I don't quite remember all the details, but I know there was a man and woman in a house. The woman was afraid of upsetting the man, but she was also afraid of a break-in because they didn't live in a safe area. She called 911 one time, and the man promptly called them back, saying it was a mis-dial, that their phone was broken or something like that.

Something happened, and the woman realized the man had snapped. He intended to kill her. And she realized that she couldn't call 911, because he had already told the police their phone was broken and dialed the wrong number. I could see and feel her terror as he came closer and she couldn't run anywhere. And he didn't just kill her, he attacked her with a knife. I watched him cut her up. There was nothing I could do. And I knew I was dreaming, and I couldn't pull myself out of that world.

This is when I wish I could just shut my imagination off. Sometimes, I think it would be worth giving up the good parts so I wouldn't have the really bad parts. But I think I would be lost without the fun movies and characters and pictures and images that live in my head.

small, happy moments

• Running in the woods on a quiet, Sunday morning, coming face to face with a young male deer. The only sounds: birds in the trees, my feet on the dirt, nature
  

• Opening up a container of grapes to see them red/purple, fat and glistening. Perfect grapes.
  

• Myra making her wookie sounds as she rolls around on her back getting a belly rub
  

• Sammy licking my hand when I rub his belly
  

• Gluten-free brownies that are so good, you wouldn't know they are gluten-free
  

• Walking by someone's computer and seeing them reading an article I wrote. It's a powerful feeling to know people are reading your words.
  

• Knowing most of our bills are already paid for the month
  

• Putting letters or cards in the mailbox, knowing the people you are sending them to will like and appreciate them
  

• Chai green tea with vanilla soymilk and a blueberry gluten-free waffle for breakfast