The Dating Game: Who's in charge?

"We can dance, we can dance, everybody takin' the cha-a-a-ance...is it safe to dance?"

- Men In Hats

So the subject of dating has come up.  Damn.  There is nothing in this world that makes me more uncomfortable.  I'd rather stick toothpicks in my eyeballs than do what a lot of my friends do...advertise and shop.

I didn't realize until recently just how much I've avoided that whole process, in one way or another.  At a rather young age, the balance between trust and caution tipped the scales in favor of self preservation. 

And I'm not the lone ranger here.  Life is hard sometimes.  At any given point in time, we are a culmination of everything that has gone before.  If we're smart, we learn from it...and let it go.  If we're stupid, we get stuck.

I am stupid.  I've been married three times for all the wrong reasons...and without really meaning to.  It just happened.  And there was love, or something damned near like it, in the safest place to be - off the market. Gotta hide somewhere, right?  And we all hide from something...mainly, ourselves.  Or maybe it's just me.  Maybe I'm the only idiot on planet earth.  I highly doubt it, but it's possible.

Fortunately, I have a saving grace or two - a very deep sense of humor and a strong connection to "spirit."  I am very grateful for these attributes.  They allow me to laugh at myself and understand that from a big picture perspective, none of this really matters.

However, here we are.  On planet earth.  Human.  Admittedly, I've had some "out of this world" experiences in meditation and, on occasion, in my growing energy healing practice.  I don't see people so much as I feel them. As a result, my circle of influence has shifted quite a bit the past few years.  So now, at least, I know I'm not alone in that respect.  Thank God...or, whoever is in charge.

However, here I am.  On planet earth.  Human.  Luckily, the past few years of my life found me in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.  I unloaded thirty years worth of anger that I could no longer run away from.  Now that I'm "clear" of that, I'm left with the only thing to be found beneath any mask of anger.  Fear.  Double damn.  I may not be angry, but I still suck at being vulnerable. 

Which brings me back to dating.  Double doody damn. Where are those toothpicks?

Alright.  Kimmy Sue's gonna shift gears and give Ruby Lou a chance to run with reality and bring it down to earth.  (Or maybe it's the other way around?)

Why do people date? 

Well, I think it's safe to say that as human beings we all share a very basic human fear of dying alone.  It's normal.  As independent as I have always been, I can honestly admit that the thought of dying alone doesn't appeal to me either.  I'm pretty sure we all would like to know that in the end someone will be there...someone who cares enough about our stupid ass to call 911 when we fall and can't get up, or feed us when we can no longer feed ourselves.  That's what it really comes down to isn't it?

But...how to get there?  That is a question that seems to be forgetting the answer more often than not.  Especially today, with divorce rates being what they are.  I personally think marriage and divorce should be eliminated from the relationship dictionary.  The only thing you should ever have to sign for is a loan.  And a loan is something you borrow.  Just saying.

Either my gear shift is sticking, or Kimmy Sue and Ruby Lou are on the same page today.  Lucky you.  Ruby Lou swears way too much.

Where was I?

So, I've got friends trying to "fix me up."  I'm not quite ready for that, but for now I am rethinking my methods.  Mainly, I don't have any.  It's just not in me to "shop."  Should I?  That is so strange to me.  I don't even like to shop for clothes.  I run to the thrift store when I need to replenish my supply of denim and occasionally find a dress that I like, but I'm just not a Mall person.  Ugh.

Years ago I had a boss who pushed me to try an internet dating site.  "Oh, you have to try it!  It's fun!"  So I tried it and it was completely stupid.  I understand it works for some people but, for me, it felt too much like applying for a job.  I had a job.  I have one now.  Anyway, my five day adventure yielded 3 therapists (the humor did not escape me) and a 19-year old who lived in Scotland.  I have nothing against long distance relationships (never mind the fact that I was 38), but I didn't have enough frequent flyer miles for that.  Actually, I didn't (and don't) have any...I'm pretty sure you have to fly in order to accumulate those. 

With the exception of a few wild years in my 20's, I just haven't dated that much.  So it's easy to remember a friend who pushes you to meet someone.  I was so resistant at the time that she invited me to dinner one night...and two of her co-workers showed up.  This friend really wanted me to hook up with this one particular guy, but seeing as how I don't really like being told what to do I dated the other guy instead.  I heard through the grapevine that the guy she wanted me to hook up with "came out of the closet" not long ago.

I ain't too stupid.

Right now I'm simply enjoying the adventures of my best friend.  She is a shopper.  She's been on more dates than anyone I know and she's gotten really good at it too.  She even had a date with a man of an ethnic origin that I will not mention, but let's say the culture is very much about "the resume'."  He very meticulously rattled off all his qualifications over dinner and later, in the car, zipped down his pants to show her his penis. He wasn't a pervert getting ready to attack, he was seriously presenting himself.  I am not making this up!  It's one of her better stories...and the reason I prefer not to shop.

I do like men, they just make me nauseous.  I'll get over it.

For now, I'm content.  I have work that I love and daughters who remind me that life is unpredictable, a little crazy, but altogether worthwhile. 

Even if you're single.

 

Cute Little Hippie Boobs!

"Look, I wasn't wanting melons, just a cute curvaceous B"

- Deirdre Flint/The Shuffleboard Queens

I've always been introspective.  And certain parts of you, whoever you are, have always been "fill in the blank."  Be your self.  Always.

This blog is certainly part of my personal journey back to self...and as a Leo, I will always have a tendency to "pimp my ride."  It is what it is.
  

This past year, I had a few life-changing epiphanies which I am very grateful for.  Make no mistake about it, everything happens for a reason - the good, the bad and the downright weird.  We are all connected and every action, big or small, has a ripple effect in our lives.  

Maybe you start a blog with boobs, get a divorce, delve into life's mysteries and end up right back where you started...BOOBS!

Life is funny that way.

And while I will never cease to delve, today I'm truly thinking about boobs.  They do come in pairs (although I have a friend with one boob, cancer took one and she's desperately hanging onto the other), so they could easily fit into the category of "duality."  But I won't go there.  That would be weird.

So.  Boobs.  I have so many fabulous female friends in all shapes and sizes.  Fortunately, most of my female friends are happy with themselves.  However, we know the rules are a little different for us.  And I hate rules.  This is one of the reasons I'm not keen on marriage.  If we need a "license" to love, we've probably missed the point.  But I digress.  (Wow...I've always wanted to use that expression.  I've envied others who use it in just the right place, without sounding trite.  Yes, I'm pimpin'.)

Some women give birth and lose their original figures.  You know, the figures that make it easier for you to get pregnant in the first place?  For whatever reason, I didn't really develop until after I became a mother. One day a girl and the next...bam...a woman!  Cool.  I have real boobs now!  Not that they weren't real before, but the bigger ones were really real!!!  Although, looking back, they were rather uncomfortable. 

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but this past year they decided to disappear. 

Okay mister man...imagine waking up one morning to the realization that the dick fairy paid you a little visit during the night and stole half your winky!  You might feel a little weird at first.

So I felt a little weird at first.  Then I got used to it.  And one day I realized that I had cute little hippie boobs, again...and Kimmy Sue woke up to the fact that those boobs suited her best. 

I'm feeling more girlish than I have in a very long time.

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Fear, Farting and Friction...and other things not fully explained!

Fears and farts aren't so different.  If you hold them in long enough, you will explode.  Just saying.

And since my human intelligence is somewhat lacking (I once thought it was a good idea to invite a gay man, a very large woman and a Sikh to a comedy club...at the same time...I'm still friends with the gay man), my understanding of reincarnation is simple.  It has to be.  I'm not that smart.

Life is fear in physical form.  Death is when your soul escapes.  It is rather like farting.  For a little while you feel relieved, until it comes back around and you realize that fresh garlic has never agreed with you.  Shit.  Seriously?  I have to do this again?

Bottom line...if you're eating something that doesn't agree with you and you know it doesn't agree with you, then don't fucking eat it anymore.

But I think most human beings are afraid of change.  We enter this world and find a familiar comfort zone and stay there because it's safe.  If you watch the news, who can blame us?

I can't speak for everyone, but the "fear factor" has been on my grocery list the past few years.  I'm cheap, so I keep waiting for it to go on sale.  Even better if it's "buy one, get one free."  Or maybe I'll just save up for one really good one.  So many to choose from right?  And some are just weird.  For instance, I'm extremely claustrophobic and absolutely will not sit in the back seat of a two door coupe.  I'm also freaky when it comes to shoes.  If I can't take them off in just a few seconds, I won't wear them.  I don't feel so bad about that.  I have a friend who won't wear sunglasses.  Having them on her face freaks her out.  Who knows why?

It's sad to me that so much of what we do and don't do is motivated by fear.  Letting go of fear really would mean the end of war in this world.  But it could also mean the end of the world, as we know it,  if letting go brings us back to "source" once and for all.  And we're really afraid of that!  There are so many good things in this life to be attached to right?

Speaking of which, I have a house full of teenagers begging me to make my killer bean dip.  I think I'll wash it down with some chocolate milk...we'll all be dying!

Oh...friction.  Friction is friction.  It's how galaxies and human beings are created.  That's all I can say about that.  Again, I'm not that smart.

Happy first day of 2012.  Maybe if we stop focusing on things that make us want to stay in a comfort zone, bad news will cease to exist.



Deer In the Headlights: Trapped or Caught?

"Her pepper spray made it rather hard for me to walk her home, but I guess that's the way it goes."

 Owl City

If you grew up watching The Partridge Family and your favorite female role model was Shirley, chances are you never intended to be married.  However, intent without resolve will find you married anyway...a few times in fact. 

Seriously.  I was not born with the "bride gene."  I didn't dream of the big day or the damned dress.  I don't know why. 

The first time it happened, I wore the damned dress.  You know, the one that's white but shouldn't be.  My mother picked it out while I was at work.  Don't even get me started on "the train."  He was a nice man, actually, and he loved me enough that he didn't want me to go to hell...as in the only way we could have sex again was to get married.  He was a preacher's son - the good kind.  And I have to admit, it's really sweet when a man doesn't want you to burn in hell.  I have my moments.  That moment lasted nine months, at which point I set him free so he could find what was right for him.  He is now a preacher with a lovely wife and three sons.  And I'm quite certain that neither of them will burn in hell. I'm also certain that I was not meant to be a preacher's wife.

Ten years later, it happened again.  I don't remember what I wore, but I do remember getting the marriage license and noticing that the gun license department was next door.  Shoot me, I'm getting married again?  Anyway, he was a very deep, passionate man (and still is)...he was also one angry son of a bitch.  However, I was not ready to "look in that mirror."  Nope.  I needed to be a victim.  We all do at times. Isn't it easier to blame someone else for something that you don't want to see in yourself?  Of course it is.  You simply sit back, watch the show...and plan your escape.  So I escaped. 

Eight years later...DAMN...IT HAPPENED AGAIN!  I must say, as far as weddings go this was my favorite.  It was potluck.  Literally.  Everyone brought a dish to share, musicians showed up and jammed and I wore overalls, (a dress version, it was a wedding after all) and since I forgot my special shoes I simply slipped on some available flip flops on my way out the door.  After the ceremony, I gave the veil back to the lady I had borrowed it from and instantly changed into my reception outfit.  Perfect day...followed by the honeymoon from hell!  My anger had found a home. 

Yep, Kimmy Sue grew a dick and had the biggest hard on of her life.  There wasn't a condom big enough to contain that hot mess!  That marriage set me free in every sense of the word.  Release is a beautiful thing.

I also realized what my biggest fear is.  A few years ago, a close friend pointed it out.  I didn't really get it at the time, but I sure as hell get it now. 

And I can thank a little "deer in the headlights" moment that freaked me out (as in mister, don't you dare get out of that truck, don't even roll down the window!) for helping me to remember what a friend once told me.

I don't mind "being trapped" because all I have to do is chew my foot off and hobble away.  However, "getting caught" is something else entirely. 

 

If I'm telling you something you already know about this life, good for you.  Seriously.  But, if sharing my stupid attempts to grow, evolve and see the writing on the wall whenever possible helps you in some way...well, that makes me happy. 

 

2011 has been the best year of my life, all things considered.  As for 2012?  I have no idea where I'm going, but seeing as how I have no feet left...I won't be running...in any direction.

 



Ruby Heart Boobs...and other random keywords!

I have no hidden agenda with this blog.  From day one, I haven't been concerned about making money or friends.  Or, for that matter, enemies.

When I say this is one soul's journey in search of non-duality, that is one truth I stand beside, in front of and behind. Meanwhile, Kimmy Sue and Ruby Lou make circles around that truth like hungry vultures fighting over who will get there first.

It is that crazy, complicated...and simple.  When the music starts, I invite them both to the dance floor.  And we dance.  And sometimes we dance with humor, or anger, or confusion.  Sometimes, with all three.  Mostly, we dance with curiosity regarding the people, places and things we encounter in this life.  More importantly, we dance.

Today the girls and I are dancing with humor AND curiosity. 

Why?  Because once in a while I check the stats to see who has stumbled into my world and, out of curiosity, how.  Keywords are one way we connect right?  Whatever it is we're looking for, or think we're looking for, we just type in a few words and voila...instant connection.

I am quite certain that the individual who logged on and searched "blue pie sickness dick" wasn't looking for a goofy blog about one soul's journey in search of non-duality.  Yes, I mention blues music in my profile.  And pie is discussed in one blog, sickness in another...and since this blog is about my attempts to figure out the evolution of masculine and feminine energy, I do mention dicks and vaginas.  And boobies of course! Well, those are the physical manifestations.  So, while I get someone searching for "hide vigina" (and they were either drunk, can't spell...or possibly that's how Latvians spell vagina), I am real curious about "blue pie sickness dick."  What on earth were they looking for?

Okay, I'm curious.  I'm going to google that now and see what I find...be right back.

WTF?  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_cutaneous_conditions

If I was really smart, I'd quote some fancy quantum theory that explains random searches versus what we receive.  Maybe what we're putting out there isn't clear enough?  Or...maybe our thoughts have nothing to do with what we receive? 

It's like the universe is one giant radio and we're all just fucking with the dial. 

Whatever. 

I'll stick with "ruby heart boobs" because I would so wear this hat and fight the forces of evil with a "signature anchor and sabre, or tricks like a haunted chest with a hostile ghost within"...and with a French accent, no less.  Yeah, this makes sense to me:
http://marvelvscapcom.wikia.com/wiki/Ruby_Heart



Kings, Queens, Assholes and Bitches...and something about pie!

Source

Regardless of sexual orientation, any partnership is a human example of duality that seeks "the one."    Masculine energy seeks feminine energy for balance, and vice verse.  I believe this applies to friendships as well. 

Sounds simple doesn't it?

Not on your life.  This song and dance is about as simple as baking a pie without an oven.  All the ingredients are there, but the sweetness just sits and denies potential.  And even if you have an oven, temperatures vary.  In a specified time frame, one attempt may turn out runny and doughy and look like crap on your plate...while another just might get burned and have to be thrown in the trash.  (Forgive me, I love analogy.  It's how I process life.)

I think the struggles begin with who is responsible for what.  Who will gather the ingredients?  Who will bake the pie?  Obviously, gender roles have evolved to a point where this isn't as confusing as it used to be.  I love to watch men cook.  My personal favorite has the word bacon tattooed on his arm...very sexy!

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And Paula Deen ain't no shrinking violet.  She has bigger balls than a lot of men I know.  I love this about her.  To me she exemplifies yin and yang in the kitchen...all feminine grace and masculine strength, a combination that makes her a hero to me.  She is my example of the art of giving and receiving.  And I picked this photo because she's all black and white and holding a very LARGE pepper grinder.  Pretty phallic huh?

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So Kings and Queens can reign supreme in the kitchen (except when it comes to homeade pie), but where are they in relationships these days?  It seems we're evolving the traditional aspects of partnership into gray areas where the original pleasures of simply being a man (King of the Hill) and a woman (The Queen) are becoming androgynous - or from a spiritual perspective, the masculine and the feminine are becoming less pronounced in the daily contraction and expansion of the energy between two people.  I realize that this may only make sense to me.  And maybe those two people in Russia who never miss a blog post. 

This might make more sense.  Assholes and Bitches are the alter egos of Kings and Queens.  And I believe this is, in part, due to the aforementioned gray areas.  If you are born with a penis, you want to be King of the Hill.  But how?  It used to be easy.  All you had to do was bring home the bacon, kill the spiders, fix whatever was broken and do whatever it took to make your partner feel cherished and protected.  In exchange you received support, attention, meals and applause just for being a man.  Oh, and nice sex.  And if you didn't get sex, nice or otherwise, it was acceptable to have a mistress.  A simple formula that worked.  If you are born with a vagina, you want to be THE Queen.  But how?  That also used to be easy.  All you had to do was bat your eyes and be the damsel in distress because the King knew how to fulfill his role by coming to your rescue. 

Blah, blah.  The Cleavers must have been incredibly bored.  Well, she was.  And I have never looked this good in the kitchen.

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Obviously this isn't breaking news.  We struggle with redefining ourselves in this modern world.  And the shift in consciousness may contain seemingly far-fetched ideas, but something is beginning to change at a rate so fast that we have to notice. 

Have we come this far only to realize that we've gone too far? 

Overall weird, I know.

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KS:  I am the Queen! I am the Queen!
RL:  Hide your dick!  Hide your dick!

And ewwwww, just ewwwww...  Source

Baby Got Back?

"I am open to the guidance of synchronicity, and do not let expectations hinder my path."

 - H.H. The Dalai Lama

We all have values and expectations that define who we are as human beings and, right or wrong, I have always had strong feelings with regards to knowing that those closest to me “have my back.”

Clearly I am doing something wrong.  Possibly, I expect too much.

Maybe I should reflect on what that means to me. What does it feel like when someone has my back? More importantly, why is that feeling so important to me?  Is there a different meaning for relationships?  Friendships?  Co-workers?

I don’t think so.  I’m pretty clear on that.

Either someone has your back, or they don’t. Unless, of course, sometimes they do…and sometimes they don’t.  There must be some discretionary rules that I don’t know about.

Should I be focusing on the expectation instead?  Maybe.  Expectation is a precursor to disappointment.

And since we're all in this together, I guess we should replace expectation with more acceptance of what is...and forgiveness for what isn't.  Which is not to say that we don't have choices.  It is just as important to choose what you will and won't allow in your life as it is to accept and forgive what you shouldn't have. 

In the process of becoming a Reiki Master, I have certainly uncovered layers of myself that I needed to look at, accept and forgive.  I have kicked up the dirt, felt it with my own hands and struggled to allow that loving, universal energy soothe my soul.  However, it's important to know that once you begin uncovering the layers that a process has begun.  And like chemo for cancer, sometimes you have to get really sick in order to get better.  You might say this is when the shit hits the fan.