You Want Me To Go Where?

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Me, being me – with my mind and thus my mouth having finally resurfaced from the wasteland it wallowed in for most of yesterday, made up for its self-imposed exile with a vengeance – I eventually pissed someone off. Pissed her off to the point I was instructed to “Go to Hades!”

Those of you who know me, or at least have an inkling of me, are likely smiling already…

“Hades?” I asked incredulously, “Really? Go to Hades? You do realize being sent there is not exactly punishment?”

“Right, since you’re destined to rule by his side, it would not be fearsome to you.” She sneered. I gave pause, I was going to ignore it. Really I was.

I swear I was.

Okay fine! We know I wasn’t.

“That specific fact notwithstanding,” I rolled my eyes. “Hades ruled the underworld where the dead resided after their time on earth. Once you died you belonged to him and once you’ve crossed the Styx into his domain you were not allowed to leave. Those who tried to circumvent such were punished; otherwise he was mostly passive in his daily rule. So, you telling me to Go to Hades? Yeah, really not much bite in that. Hades, and his eponymous underworld, are a construct of mythology. Hell, the place you don’t have the maturity to call by its proper name, is a construct of religion.”

“Smartass. To Hell with you then!” Emphasis heavy on the noun this time.  I know my brow arched, I couldn’t help it and she, knowing me, groaned knowing something was about to drop and not in her favor.

Now class, what’s one thing that really galls us humans? Someone throwing our own words back at us.

“With you? Oh, Certainement!” I just grinned. “Since, as you’ve stated, I’m destined to rule by his side, it would not be fearsome for me, that would make me your queen. And either as Persephone or Lilith, I would surely make it hell for you.”

Lesson of the Day: Don’t mess with an erstwhile church girl, who likes classic mythology.

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From my desk at work: Spy vs Spy, a killer notepad and a mini traffic cone that asks “Where are we going? And why are we in this handbasket?”

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Let’s see how the hell others are slicing it up this Friday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 24

Zort!

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I am feeling rather indolent today. There really is no other word for it. Well, that’s not true – lackadaisical, torpid, languid, and lethargic also come to mind, but I digress.

“Where can I stick this?” Slipped from a colleague’s tongue. There was a slight pause as the speaker and two others in the conversation realized the verbal misstep and looked to me waiting for me to snark. On any other day I would have pounced on that spewing innuendo. I gave them all a whatever hand gesture – they are still waiting. I’m not angry, sad, tired or even bored, I simply can not be so bothered to be so bothered.

When not on autopilot, I’ve had no discerning thoughts, until I came here to post. For this creative mind that is constantly conjuring snark while running emotional apps, mental programs and existential subroutines, over speculative subroutines, under jokes, and in pure utter randomness, this complete lassitude of thought is unnerving to say the least.

It is just weird, really weird. I’ve shrugged, idly smiled, casually taught by rote all through this morning’s training session weird. Weird as in The Dude I just want to see what condition my condition is in, without being in any condition to condition really weird.

In the world of Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering? Pinky would be the Brain among the two of us right now. You’ll have to think about that, because clearly I’m not in the mood to.
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Let’s see how others are thinking it through their day:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 23

Yaaaaaawn

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My insomnia is catching up to me. I’ve maybe had eight hours of sleep since Sunday morning. After two days of straight out documentation, plus an all day training session today, with another double session to look forward to tomorrow. I’m so knackered I could cry, but that would likely keep me awake. Of course, just as my eyes are actually starting to feel the type of heavy that I may finally get a few good hours in one night, I remember I had yet to post.

So goodnight, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you, and hopefully me – if I can get this damned Lawrence Welk earworm I just gave myself out of my head.

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Let’s see how others are slicing through what’s left of this wide awake Wednesday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 22

Just Swell

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A guy on the train and I are flirting madly. We’re having fun, but I know it’s not going anywhere. As time draws near to when I’m about ready to leave, I let him down slowly with a contrasting statement.

“How is it this not enough, yet too much?’

“Because you can’t do what I do.”

“Like what?”

We’d been conversing for a while; I knew I was deep in his head space. I arch a brow, slowly tilting my head back and to the side, as I even more slowly lick the inside of my lower lip before pursing them and then wait as he watches me. His response is near instantaneous and far too easy.

His pupils dilate and breath catches a little.

A vein near his jaw starts to pulse rapidly.

A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck in nervous curiosity. He realizes what he is doing and quickly brings his hand down.

I know my smile turns into a slow, but teasing grin. Like I said, too easy.

“How  – I don’t even know what to call it – what is it you do?”

“Apparently manipulate sympathetic divisional responses in your autonomic ganglia.” I grin, mostly to myself, for I absolutely adore the times when I can successfully reel off such information at a moment’s notice as though it were pedestrian conversation filler.

“My what?”

Luckily, the train pulls into my station, so I stand and head to the door.

“Sorry, not telling, a woman has to have her secrets.” I wink exiting. At least I left him with a smile and tumescence.

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Let’s see how others are slicing through this Tuesday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 21

Loving View of You

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He has learned to love himself through “her” eyes, and through the eyes of others. To believe he is worthy not because he himself thinks he’s worthy, but because they say so. He searches for himself in how they view him, but he forgets that when she leaves, when they leave, all leave with their views as well – so what’s left of him then?

She has to unlearn that peace with Self in never going to be in the desires of yet another lover’s eyes. She has to unlearned that love is physical, that she has to be touched by another for love to be felt.  She does not know how to fall in love with the soul and mind of another, let alone her own self, thus she forgets her body’s worth. She has not learned the power of loving her own self, loving her own company.

When we are  looking for others to complete our sense of self, we fail to realize, we will never be complete unless you are within ourselves. We have to unlearn searching  for ourselves in the eyes of our parents, especially the absent parent – whether physically, but especially the emotionally one/s. We become adults and eventually move out of caretakers physical grasp, but the psychological ties, good and bad, bind so much longer. What parts are who you are, and what are who they say you are?

We continue giving valuable pieces of ourselves to the wrong people; they will continue to leave us feeling empty, and yet we continue to look to these same people to fill these holes. Being lonely is no excuse. We need to understand the difference between compromise and settling for less, to believe that it is not okay to lower our standards, mediocre is not good enough.

There’s a reason the phrase “I can do bad all by myself” exists. Because the people we let into our lives – not colleagues or families, as we often have little to no choice over them – I speak of the remaining that we let into our lives, is a reflection of what’s outside of us, and that reflection should always be of something good. They reflect how we choose to see what is outside of us, they can never destroy the core within us, we you don’t let it.

Stop looking for a partner...

We get trapped in the stresses of trying to live up to impossible perfection. We subconsciously learn  that to be in any way flawed is an offence. We try to fit into these images created by others and forget how to simply be ourselves. We forget the power we have within ourselves, to love ourselves first.

To love ourselves, first. When we do that. everything falls into alignment.

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Writing Our Lives #52essays2017 Challenge – Week 12

52essays2017

A year-long weekly personal essay/memoir/creative nonfiction writing challenge. To learn more about this challenge or to participate, check out Vanessa Martir’s website and learn about it.

 

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On her knees, she reflects on her days up to these moments of her life. Say what they may now – she has earned this. The slurs of her heritage were a weight heavily carried on her back.  The vitriol flung her way because of the lower caste into which she was born, a constant susurrus in the back of her mind, no more. The drive to disprove the mocking stereotypes subjected to her kind a crown of thorns that gave cold comfort. Some let the burden of them wear them down. Today she would show a different way to wear those labels – with pride.

She bows her head one last time, as the mantle of the choices that brought her here become a different kind of weight. Lifting her head, she rises from her knees before the vicar with grace, as he proclaims her to all. She begins her life anew with the only appellation that mattered now, Queen.

To what you answer
Will always outweigh the things
To what you are called

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The Daily Post : Label
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt

dVerse ~ Poets Pub: Open Link Night #192

MLMM Wordle 147: Pride Love Letter

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My Darling Vita,

I who would paint iridescent murals, pen epic tomes, sing the most tear-inducing of arias, for its sheer beauty, all in tribute of you, had I the talents for such, know that there is no earthly media truly worthy of encompassing that magical core that is you. All the hoardings of my imagination I have laid bare to you. So forgiveness is begged sorely as I attempt, still, to do such with this lowly pen and ink.

You are my Sol, and I a mere human heliotrope whose face, legs, arms, oh my entire being ever gravitate towards your light, your heat. My passion for your most beautiful mind burned long before you levitated in the chambers of this once hollow heart, now made hallowed by your presence within.  And once introduced to that flashover of heart, body, and soul – the harmonious ballet – of the grace of our physical expressions? Oh! Even when apart I am inseparable from you for there is not a recess in my being into which you haven’t penetrated wholly.  It is the impetuous which spurs me to beg of your return to my side as quickly as the gods allow.

Oh my love! What cost, on the pricelessness of us, can be latched? This war proves it is far too much and far too little all the same, but pay it gladly I will, when I know it garners this magic which is us. Upon my return, I pray that you hold as much fervor to endure its costs with me. Forever…

…and ever yours,
Violet

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In the early 1900s, in an era long before LGBTQA pride, but before LGBTQA shaming somehow became the societal de rigueur, English author Vita Sackville-West fell in love with writer and socialite Violet Keppel. The two embarked upon one of the most notorious love affairs in LGBTQA history. This affair is especially noted for Violet’s most beautiful, yet heartbreaking and poignant love letters to Vita. The above is my take on such a letter had gay pride and marriage equality existed in their day.

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle: Week 147 graphic

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle: 147

Latch, Ballet, Levitate, Heliotrope, Iridescence, Media, Passion, Harmony, Inseparable, Legs, Heat, Flashover

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem. The words can appear in an alternate form.

It’s Lamb Time!

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Spring equinox 2017 in the Northern Hemisphere will be at 6:28 AM on Monday, March 20 EST

I cannot lie, with the exception of the previous week, Winter 2016 has been relatively mild temperature wise. Granted there will be a couple more fights twixt lion and lamb for the next few weeks before we really feel like spring in our bones, but boy I am very happy to officially be on this side of the equinox at last.

Central Park Promenade in early spring

Central Park Promenade 1st Day of Spring 2016

Like most seasons some signs of spring appear before the calendar states such. The days are noticeably longer, grass has started to show its first shoots – though last week’s snow storm may have done a number on them, any day now I expect the landscapers by my job to start planting their annual tulip bulbs, there’s even the tiniest hint of what will be buds on the cherry blossom trees. Starbucks have the new coffee cup sleeves for spring and the annual joking, but not funny memes requesting people to please, for the love of all that’s holy, please get pedicures before breaking out the strappy sandals. Ahh spring!

To all of my southern hemisphere people, now entering autumnal equinox: may your coming winter be even more gentle than our past one. And please take time for Hygge.

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Let’s see how others are getting through their First Day of Equinox:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 20

Keepers

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Most Facebook like me know about its On This Day feature. On This Day displays anything you’ve posted  post on your own page from previous years.  As an avid, I almost typed rabid – pretty close, Facebook user of eight years it is now rare to come across any given day that does not have at least four entries.

For the most part it’s a lovely trip down memory lane. All the jokes, the quips and memes, blog posts that I’ve chosen to share bringing memories. The only  major downside is a bittersweet revisit when I come across where I’ve posted on someone who has left this realm – a loved one, a friend or a favored celebrity. One can choose to delete the any upsetting posts to avoid such in the future revisits, but I do not delete mine. I feel if I deemed it important enough to post in the first place, then I should live with it. After all I’ve have learned the hard way everything heals with time. And speaking of avored celebrity  RIP Chuck Berry – who left us yesterday after 90 years and is now playing with his Ding-a-Ling for all eternity.

The other occasional downside is when I share something from another website —

photo of Facebook post Christopher Walken dancing

I click looking forward to revisiting the fun of it only to see–

screen capture of unavaiable video apology on youtube

— it gone. It’s not my content so I have no control over it when this happens. For the most part when someone else decides to delete the content or the site altogether – it’s gone. I have had posts where my only descriptor was “HAH!” and I’ll never know what was so funny on that date – now those I will delete as it serves no purpose to connect to a dead link. However, this is YouTube where there is almost always duplicates of everything – especially things that amuse and delight. In this case it is a compilation of scenes from movies in which Christopher Walken is dancing. It underlies with C+C Music Factory’s “Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)” and I adore it. So I knew, KNEW there was no way there were not other posts of this out there, so – to the Google! My trust in this clip amusing others, as it does me, was valid. At least this is one dead post I can edit and keep the fun going.

And now for your and especially my own entertainment:

Christopher Walken Dance Now

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Let’s see how others are getting through their Sunday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 19

Old Feel In New Places

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When I was looking for a new place, I had my priorities and I met all of them. With my needs met, it was only after I settled in there was one thing I did not consider. My local bar.

Because sometimes I don’t want to sit and have a drink or two alone in my place. Sometimes I want to pop over to the bar, have a few brews, watch a game and shoot breeze. But I don’t want to go all the way downtown or across town to do so. A friend introduced me to her good friend’s bar and it was a good fit then. It wasn’t walking distance local, I definitely needed car service to get home, but I made friends and acquaintances there and always felt welcomed there. Since I moved I’ve missed that. I am much further away now, so getting there and back home is not as easy. While I still so  pop over there now and again – I know it will not be as often.Thus, I started considering half-heartedly looking for a watering hole closer to where I live now.

A couple of months ago I noticed this bar where I transferred from the subway to the bus on daily commute, Bar 180. Usually I only notice it from across the street as I am waiting for said bus, but I knew it was there.  Earlier last month I made myself pass directly in front of it one evening, taking a peek inside the window. Dark, but inviting, a touch modern with it white marble main bar top. It was early in the week, but there were enough customers to not look empty. It looked promising, but I was tired that night and really just wanted to go home. I considered the options. If I like the place it was closer to home travel wise and I would have a choice of bus or cab depending on when I left, which I did not have before. It really could not have been more convenient short of it actually being within walking distance of my place. So I told myself I really should stop in and check it out one evening. Last night as I was walking to my bus bright green balloons caught my attention. It was St. Patrick’s Day – of course! What better day to check out a bar?

I arrived at a good time, it was not yet crowded I was easily able to get a stool at the end of the bar. The first tender was a cutie, his professional greeting smile in place as I ordered a Guinness to start; it was St. Paddy’s Day after all. I started removing my coat, revealing the kelly green and orange colors of the day while I checked the place out. Main bar along one wall, a mix of bar height and standard tables and seating throughout to the glass paned walls facing the streets. Dark and medium woods, contrasted with metal trims and mirrors gave the place a nice cosy, but not cramped feel even as the place filled-up. A bright white full size bicycle was perched high up on one wall, in a corner, was an attention getter. My two favorite things so far 1- the ladies room was on the main floor, no wobbling down stairs to a basement bathroom, especially when wearing heels – yes! 2- the custom chandelier above the main bar. A steam-punkish vibe, made up of at least twenty individual plumbing pipes hanging from the ceiling in various odd angles terminating in Edison bulbs. The bronze-burnished pipes, with the sepia bulbs contrasted beautifully with the ceiling.

A listing of what was on tap, plus their standards appeared. They had a really nice selection of IPAs and a couple of ciders, plus their happy hour and St. Patrick’s Day special. The crew flowed in and out around the bar; a good camaraderie as they joked and teased each other as well as a few of the customers.  I don’t know who did their playlist, but the music was on point. Several of us, including the bartenders,  could not help but call out, raise our hands and glasses and bop our heads as various personal favorites came across the speakers. As I enjoyed my next Guinness, a small plastic bag appeared near my elbow. I smiled as I opened it, immediately donning the right green beads with the requisite shamrock bearing the Guinness logo – a fitting promotional swag for the holiday. A little tote bag just as mysteriously appeared, okay not so mysteriously as the promoter was standing there when it appeared by my hand, but hey.

The best part of the evening happened when a pretty blond asked if the stool next to me was empty and took a seat once I indicated it was. She clearly knew the bartenders and jumped right in as I teased one of the guys. One placed this pistachio ice cream green concoction before her and I was intrigued and asked for the same. It was a take on the classic vodka grasshopper, but with a little twist and tweak, it was so delish. As they had not come with a name for it, I promptly dubbed it the Irish Hopper  in honor of the day.

irish-hopper

Irish Hopper

Charming and engaging she and I joked and chatted, learning we were both Virgos and adored Broadway  musicals. As I am still relatively new to the area, she told me about the good, okay and bad eateries. We spoke of our day jobs, and as it turned out, her side job was as a server at Bar 180, but it was her night off. She was there because her husband, the resident beer guy was working. That’s how she knew everyone there so well. It mattered not for all had did their respective jobs well and I was successfully charmed by Bar 180. I will never be any bar’s “Norm!”, but I do believe I have found a new local bar and that’s a good thing.

Edited to add: Lights!@For those who wanted to see them…

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Let’s see how others are slicing up their Saturday.

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 18