Stupid Girls

Wednesday, June 30, 2004


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Something goes unsaid. This woman I'm courting: there's Something she isn't telling me. I'm left guessing. I'm left to cautiously consider every thing I do.

Soon, I'll ask her. I'll just flat-out ask.

But I'm waiting. I know it's not time yet.

But there is a big, dark object between us. I can't even make out its shape or dimensions, it's so mysterious. It comes from her, but she isn't talking.

It makes it hard to see her; it's obstructing my view.

It doesn't reflect light, so I'm not looking into my own reflection, thinking it's her.

No, whatever this is, it's absorbing light so well, I can't even define its form.

I don't know if she'll ever mention it. It may be so intrinsically part of her life, she isn't aware of it.

But that seems doubtful; she isn't an unconscious person, in my experience.

So, I'm waiting.

If I get to know, I will know. If I don't get to know....

Well, I'll need to evaluate what I need to do.

Because this Something precludes true intimacy. It won't allow for love.

And those are the connections I seek -- with her, and elsewhere.

It takes a lot of space, this Something. One must watch one's step around it. It restricts mobility.

I reach around it, to connect to her. And that worries me: trying to reach someone around an obstacle increases the odds of accidentally poking her in the eye!

And I DON't want to hurt her!

So, I limit my contact, to reduce the chances of causing injury.

And wait.

I will bring it up. But it's too soon.

I'm just as stubborn as she is. And I'm truly committed, for now, to reaching her.

But if she's as stubborn, or more so, about keeping this Something between us, I'll need to let her go.

I have Somethings, too. But mine are multiple; they move around. And I'm seeking them out, as I become aware of them, and working to control, if not disolve, them. I want no artificial obstacles.

I don't know if she is working on her Something, or if she's using it for protection. She might cherish it, for all I know.

So, I'm waiting.

Well, I just heard NPR broadcast part of "Grand Canyon Suite:" the part about the sun rising over the canyon.

So, I guess it's time to dig THAT out of my record collection, and listen to it again. It was one of my mother's favorite pieces of music.

Talk about someone with a SOMETHING! But hers was completely toxic. She was fiercely defensive of it, and would try to kill even mentioning it.

Mom, I can't function with you, because of this Something in the room.

There's no Something! What are you talking about? You're crazy! Leave me alone before I beat you to death!

I approach people's Somethings with caution, if at all.

It's testiment to how much this woman already means to me, that I'm even willing to try.

Sunday, June 27, 2004

back to normal

You are reading

repost: You are reading

AH! Up at five thirty: MUCH better! I went to bed rather early, for me, just to make SURE I got a good rest for today's chopping/cooking festival! I feel like a new potato! Get it? never mind...

Looks like this muscle pain may need medical attention. Darn. I was HOPING it would start working itself out, but it's not. I'll give it a couple weeks' more. It'll take that long to get an appointment at that midaeval clinic, anyway. shudder...

Except for putting away dishes, everything's ready for Food Not Bombs.

We're getting a little camp stove, soon. THAT will really HELP! I'd be perfect for stir frying! I have a wok the size of Gallup, NM: takes too much room on the stove for OTHER pots/pans, but man, can it cook up a case of vegies!

I'll take a shower & stretch before the kids get here. I'm pretty sore. And I'm embarrassed at how grouchy I was last week. Pain: it sucks!

I reedited that sound file, to bring it back up to 4:30. I'm happy. That's still a minute off the story.

I want to start my art project, but it'll have to wait 'til later in the week. I just have too much to do, right now. You can't rush art. Well, you can, but who wants to?

BESIDES! I have to run to the station this week to print out some stuff to read Wed. night! My PRINTER ran outta ink!

I wish you could see my garden. It's outrageous!

I'm a little worried about the place where they took my baby: it's very tender. It has been since I started exercising. It's one of those sickening hurts, not natural. It doesn't get worse, but it's threatening. I'm very conscious of it, all day long. Those savages butchered me!

But I see definition to my belly now. I can see the muscle ridges, on both sides of my tummy, running down my torso. No six pack, for sure, but definition. And my abdomen is smaller, less portruding.

The self evaluation of looking at myself, nude, in the mirror has taught me a few things: I'm not ugly, like I thought I was; my posture was getting bad.

I was curling forward, onto myself. My shoulders were slumped, my breasts sagged, my belly portruded more than its actual size.

I make a conscious effort now to: straighten my back, keep my shoulders back & level, hold in my tummy while walking and standing.

The minute I found out my breasts really do stand out farther than my belly, I decided to keep it that way. I look better, and I feel a LOT better! I was so twisted up, no WONDER I was fatigued! Bodies aren't meant to stand like that!

I don't try to hold my belly in all the time yet. These are badly-neglected muscles, over an abdomen that has been severly traumatized. I relax while seated or lying down.

But, when walking, riding the scooter, standing on lines, etc., I'm pretty much a giant isometric exercise.

I hold tense: belly, arms, legs, butt muscles, to strengthen them and to support my skeleton better. It BURNS, baby!

The effects in my mirror are obvious: I have a full, veluptuous body; I'm not ugly. I'm Reubenesque! I'm womanly, plump, cuddly looking.

For an old broad who's sneakin' up on fifty, I look mighty dang good, actually.

I'm getting more brave about clothing, too. I'm starting to reveal more of my body, in ways that are comfortable.

I'll never be a hoochie; it's inappropriate. But I'm learning to be proud of my womanliness again.

So, all-in-all, this work I'm doing: loving myself--it's paying off. It's HARD! It's the hardest thing I've ever done! It's embarrassing and painful and I never know what to do next. And it does hurt, on so many levels, I won't begin to explain.

But I'm glad I had the sense to really try! And I'm glad I'm sticking with it, hard as it is.

I really want dance lessons! I want to feel my body moving, stretching, reaching, supporting me, transporting me.

Guess I'll start keeping my eyes open in the calendar sections of local press.

I want to DANCE!

Thursday, June 24, 2004


You are reading

repost You are reading

The computer's on line. I have work PILED UP! LOL

I bought someone a cup of ginger tea, to celebrate. Circling, circling...who are you? Can I trust you? Do you see me? Do I see you? Celebrate with me!

I need to write a script for Radio Theater. I need to write a script about Marianna Dengler. With music by Copeland, Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel...and a little South Pacific, thrown in for schmaltz.

I'll need to email her husband. I need to email her girls. I need to do this RIGHT!

I'll need to get some voices, to act it out. One woman I know has a voice very similar to Mariana's.

Nobody has a voice like Marianna's. I can hear it as I write. Oh, I miss her!

My advisor is getting in to playing Secret Santa now. He showed up to tinker with the computer today.

He laughed at what I've changed: dayglow window headers, cursor shaped like a mouse, picture of my scooter for wallpaper, psychodelic maze for screensaver, large fonts, large icons arranged around the scooter, cheerful sound effects....

Soon, CDs appeared from nowhere: work for me to do.

He explained the tasks....and offered to pay me a nice chunk o' change. Good lord!

I have plenty of time; I'll start tomorrow.

I walked him out. He leaned on his car and pursed his lips, trying not to smile.

He asked of which of my produced pieces I was the proudest.

I said I didn't know, but that my Memorial Day apology to Viet Nam Vets seemed to have gotten the most response. Why?

Because, he said, by the second week of July, he'd like to send it to some mentors he knows, who would work with me.

Pursed lips, casual shrug, wicked glint in eye: one of them is National Public Radio.

Well, I was too stunned to squeek. I was busy trying not to lose control of my legs at the time, and was too distracted by that to explode.

I wobbled a little, regained my balance, swayed at the hips to make sure my legs were still under me, made a slow piroette in the yard, latched the gate and sighed.

He got in his car and unrolled the window, watching me too closely.

I scrunched up my shoulders, hugged myself and said, "I'm trying not to freak out."

Large, toothy grin, "I'll see you later," and he drove off.

It took about fifteen minutes for the delayed reaction to set in.

I flew to the WebTV and emailed my tea companion.

She replied, "there's no place like home..."

This is an adventure.

Nothing is as it was.

If someone dropped me in the middle of Paris, France with fifty million dollars, I couldn't be more stunned, excited, amazed, thrilled, disoriented, lost, energized or giggly.

So THIS is Home!

My heros, as a young woman, were: Nina Totenberg, Cokie Roberts, Margot Adler, Linda Worthheimer and Linda Elerby. Back when NPR was young and not an institution; back when it was still experimental and naive.

I am at a threshhold. I have no idea what's inside that dark room in front of me. But it smells delicious and sounds captivating. A cool, refreshing breeze wafts over me and I teeter on the balls of my feet, waiting to go in.

Hard work. Useful work. Good work. My work.

Marianna, I'm coming home!

Monday, June 21, 2004


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repost You are reading

I'm going to be an Amazon in a year!

Yesterday, I used a shovel as a weight. It's a post hole digger, with a very long handle and a light, thin, scoop shaped blade.

I only did five reps of each lift.

But my arms sure burn!

In two weeks of stretching and weight lifting, I can already feel a difference, though.

I can walk faster, with a wider stride. My arms can lift more easily.

My belly's a lot more firm. My breastes are perkier. My back is stronger. My thighs are more firm.

I'm not making this up: I can see the change, in my mirror.

I mean it: in a year, I'm going to look a lot better and feel a HELL of a lot better!

I'm still really glad I bought a thousand asprin, though. ugh.

I've gotten hugs from 2 athletic men in 24 hours. The difference between their bodies and mine is pronounced. I can feel individual muscles in them, just by the touch of my fingers, over their clothing. There's a kenetic energy in their physical gestures that transmits as a low hum when I touch them; their bodies vibrate with energy. They are quite strong. Even the simple gesture of a hug expresses their security and confidence in their own movements.

Now, I don't expect to ever be as strong as either of them, particularly the young one, but I see where I need to head.

Dog barking back later.

I like being sexual again

You are reading

repost: You are reading

I was so shut down. I was functional and even useful, but I was not fully alive.

This being in love with myself stuff is great!

I'm getting a lot accomplished, I look better than I have in years, I'm healthier. I'm certainly happier. I'm not clingy or needy with people, demanding attention.

In fact, I'm generous with people. I have more energy for them. I like being with them. I'm curious about their stories. I'm enjoying their thinking. I'm even enjoying their bodies! :)

I admire how they move, the lines of their forms, how they decorate themselves, even how they smell. And sound! I've noticed some very sexy voices recently: little purrs and chortles, sighs and laughter that are so beautiful!

I'm appreciating them as fellow animals, as well as fellow intellects. It's a helluva lot of fun.

It's a vibrational thing, not meaning to sound all hippy dippy. But I'm operating at a higher frequency, with more power. I'm receiving better: I'm more conscious. I'm not as clouded, distracted and muted as before. I mean vibrations as in vibrant, not as in something cosmic.

Maybe my neural transmitters are more sensnitive. Maybe the electochemistry has changed as a result of the hormonal levels. Whatever it is, I'm REALLY enjoying it!

I'm making a conscious effort, most of the time, to appreciate what I see, feel, smell, hear and taste. Food is much better, and I always had a "sophisticated palate." I feel textures better, from cloth to dirt and everything else.

My entire sensory imput is much more keen, alert.

The cool breeze, blowing through my window, is so delightful. The chicken I ate for dinner was rapturous.

I smelled a pot of cooked potatoes today. Just plain potatoes, cooked in water. And my mouth started watering like those were the best, gourmet potatoes anybody ever smelled!

I feel my body's pain, but it doesn't disable me as much. I'm still careful not to overwork or stress my body, and I know when I'm reaching my limits. And there's still always pain.

But there's pleasure, too. And that makes all the difference!

I told the Most Squeezable Butt In Albuquerque that I'm over my crush on him. He said, "well, that's good," a little too quickly to be polite. LOL

But it's not true. It's just that my sexual aesthetic is expanding outward to include others. Specific others, but othes in general, too.

I'm just relaxing and enjoying it now. I'm going somewhere with all this enthusiasm, sensuality and love. I don't kno where. I'm just letting myself experience it.

For the first time in a VERY long time, I'm considering what it would be like to be in a Lesbian relationship again, too. I'm just remembering what my experiences were, why I loved the women I was with, etc.

See, it's easier for me to hook up with men; the agenda's pretty simple: let's rub bellies. Men don't want all the processing, heavyness, intensity and intimacy women require.

Don't get me wrong: I've met profound men and shallow women.

But my experience is that women have damage they'll actually acknowledge. Men will gloss it over and won't want to address their issues, in order to contain them.

Women will talk for hours about what's intimately important to them. Men will drop obscure hints, and it's always tricky, knowing whether or not to draw them out.

I can't just have sex with women; I respect them too much to objectify them. I can only make love to women, and then only when we've become good friends.

Men? Hey, you're into it; I'm into it; let's do it! Whether we form relationship or not is not the priority.

Well, there's ONE man, but he processed almost like a woman.

But I wouldn't let myself feel ANYthing psychosexual for women for about ten years.

I wasn't even CLOSE to risking letting somebody get inside. Better not to find women attractive, lest I become drawn to one.

That's beginning to change. All of it: the self protection, the shut down, the rigid boundaries.

I'm starting to really see women again. And it feels like Home, to me. I missed loving women, and didn't even know it.

Now, I'm starting to remember and to feel.

I'm telling you: this is one of the healthiest parts of my life!

I'm really enjoying myself. And other people, too!!!

Friday, June 18, 2004

Stepford Wives

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Stepford Wife: You've Come the Wrong Way, Baby
Lakshmi Chaudhry, AlterNet
The cookie-baking zombie reflects the desire of the new anti-feminists
to return to a happier time when wives knew their place and were
content within it.

Nancy Nags Nincompoop

You are reading

What did I say? The ONLY good thing to come from Ronald Reagan!

Bush pressed to expand stem-cell research

President Bush is coming under pressure from Nancy Reagan and a
growing number of Republican lawmakers to change a policy that
limits federal funding for stem-cell research.


Monday, June 07, 2004

Women's Vote

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Donna Brazile, Women's eNews
Twenty years ago Geraldine Ferraro raised the electoral
profile and hopes of women. But with women still
representing so much untapped potential, candidates this
summer should focus on energizing the women's vote.
*In Election 2004: here

Friday, June 04, 2004


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repost: You are reading

She's worth it. I feel so clumsy around her. And I so want this probationary period to be over, so we can relax and become friends!

I'm flattered she trusts me as much as she does, really. She has reason to distrust unpredictability.

I'm not so much unpredictable as I am spontanious and, I'm afraid, a bit impetuous.

I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. That's not easy for people who protect themselves in other ways.

I don't expect her to be like me. I don't expect me to be like her. I don't think she does, either.

She's the first person in this town, and I've lived here twelve years, with whom I feel a real identification.

I was right about her; I do know her. Oh, not perfectly or completely. But I know enough to realize I want to orbit her.

Not circle her; I don't need a person as the center of my journey.

More obliquely, like a far-ranging comet: venturing out in my own path, circling 'round, bringing in what I've learned out there to show her.

She's very beautiful. She's an intricate construct of will, strenght and intellect. She has a good heart.

Nothing about her is lazy, sloppy, self indulgent...

She's clean, or she's tidying and dusting.

Like me.

She's very playful, on her own terms. I find this disarming, charming.

I would be proud to earn her friendship.

No hoop jumping, here. I couldn't fool her, or myself. Besides, who needs the stress?

I wouldn't bother to persue this, if that were a demand.

She puts me in mind of women of the late 19th century. Formal, polite, proper: a form constructed over swelling hearts and true romanticism. Passion sublimated.

Intricate. Everything is expressed, yes. But within carefully constructed form.

She's really beautiful!

So, I'm courting her, as I court myself. She must be won, as must I.

I've been asking myself: am I being honest? I've been checking myself to make sure I'm no using her, in my exhuberance to connect.

No, I genuinely like her. She amuses me. She challenges me. She inspires me.

And, yes, she intimidates me. But I find myself relishing my need to control myself, so I won't unduely alarm her.

I know I'll make mistakes. I've already made a doozie, and she witnessed it.

Yet, she comes back: like a cat, on her own terms, when she feels like it.

She is never to be mistaken for domesticated. A current of wildness powers her. It's vivid and strong.

I struggle with my masks, borders, training and reorientation. Sometimes, I don't speak when I wish I would. Sometimes, I babble.

She'll flick a gaze at me from the corner of her eye and I'm exposed. All I can do is smile and retract my latest foolishness.

She's really beautiful.

I wish I could jump a year in time to see us then.

Ah, but this circling: it's so delightful!

I make no promises; I wouldn't presume expectations. This is too much fun, too large, too interesting to confine to a formula. I respect her too much. I respect myself too much.

I really am on an adventure. Everything has changed, is changing.

She is my witness. She quietly observes, seldom comments. But when she does, it's lovely. She sees me when she speaks.

It scares me, sure, but it affirms me, too. It warms and comforts me. I'm small and delicate, big and powerful, all at the same time.

Sometimes, the turn of the corner of her mouth suggests she's amused by all this.

As long as she agrees, until she tells me not to, I'll court her. I'll want to comfort, amuse and appreciate her. She asks for none of that; she takes care of herself.

She's really beautiful.

She can't be spoiled. She can't be bought. She can't be fooled.

A friendship with her is worth the wait, the work.

However it has come to this, I'm grateful.