Along the line;

Somewhere along the line, I lost myself.  I lost the music, the art, the words – oh, the words!  I never would have thought.  Me.  No imagination.  No creativity.  No inspiration.

There must be something terribly wrong.  This is just not the way I am.  This is just not me.

My life has changed – I have changed.  What’s more, it’s not for the better.  Life, age, responsibility, money – the fighting, the loving, the fighting.  Oh, the fighting.

The hatred, the words, the hate – where does it come from?  What have I become?  Moreover, what has become of me?  With all I have been, where have I gone?

Who am I?

I am in need.

Warning Boys: Gotcha! (I am Lady, hear me roar);

Everything you think a woman doesn’t know?  Oh, she knows it.

Whether or not we let you in on that little fact, be aware that everything you think you can hide from your Lady you absolutely cannot.  We are observers.  We are analyzers.  We are empaths.  We are perceptive and detail-oriented.  And the suspicion of our male counterparts is innate – we are born protective (think “mother lioness”) and, I would say, just as territorial as our lesser-halves (ha.).

Look, if we’ve decided to be with you it’s because we think you’re the best.  In whatever way is most important to each individual woman (romance, stability, wealth, practicality, attraction), you beat out all your competitors.  You had the flashiest feathers, the sweetest song, the most prevalent battle scars.

Congratulations: you won!  But don’t flatter yourself, it’s just nature.  In the same way that female animals judge the available gene-pool, thus do we.  Though for us it becomes a bit more complex than these physical factors, we too are animals and will protect our property accordingly.

Don’t balk at the word.  It’s how you think of us, isn’t it?

Much of what men try and hide from their women is harmless.  Of course there are more grave situations and hurtful offenses, but what I find my husband most tries to hide from me is something silly, say, eating an unhealthy snack.  What’s even more ridiculous than the fact that he tries to hide it is the fact that he thinks I give a d@mn.  If I, then, point out that he’s got a bit of chocolate icing on his cheek (undoubtedly from devouring the sweet rapidly to avoid detection), he accuses me of “controlling” him.

Really?  Fine.  

Next time I’ll just let you walk around with sh*t on your face.

 

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The Hollow Woman: or, the way the World ends —

Depression is a funny creature. Just when you think you are in the clear, She sneaks up behind you and pulls you back in.

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow

The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot

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A Series of Unfortunate Events: or the plague of the emotional leeches

Recently I have been experiencing major anxiety over my relationships and interactions with my female friends.  As I posted some days ago, I seem to have taken on the role of therapist among them.  This would be okay if just one or another needed advice or a shoulder to cry on at any given time, but it has begun to eat up my whole life.  As a friend of mine put it, they’ve become

emotional leeches

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Let’s talk about pride for a minute —

My husband is a proud man.  He is Italian, and – as much as I hate sweeping generalizations – passion and pride are at the top of my list of characteristics of your average Italian (man).  While I do mean passion in the romantic or sexual sense, I also mean in all aspects of their lives.

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Nothing to lose: or, already lost it all–

Loss started, for me, with the death of my mother’s mother in 2007.  It wasn’t exactly sudden, although I took it very hard.  She was only 61 and, apart from her Emphysema, extremely healthy.  I will always remember the click and whir sound her breathing apparatus made as she struggled for breath in bed over her last days.  She wasn’t even a smoker.

We were always like two peas in a pod.  Referring to the interests we shared, my mother always said, “It skips a generation.”  It was true – my mother never took any interest in our hobbies.  She sewed, crocheted, beaded, and knitted among other activities – all which she passed on to me.  My Nana was always so proud to show me off to her stitch-n’-bitch groups.  She had also participated in the WAF program which made her one of the first active-duty women in the US Air Force…
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That Boy Over There is Dealing Drugs While His Sister Sells Herself–

Have you ever sat on a bench at the park or waiting for the bus or in any number of public places?  Whether or not you speak to the people around you (or even actively observe them), you do tend to notice something about the way they are or what they are doing.

Maybe the boy sitting beside you is rolling a joint.  Or that girl over there has on heels that are too high and a skirt that is too short.  Did those two in the corner just exchange something under the guise of a handshake?  And I wonder if that girl is old enough to be with the man she’s walking with!

Now you’ve seen it.  You can’t unsee it.  You can’t pretend that they’re not there and that it didn’t happen.

But do you take the time

to pass judgment?

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