Welcome, welcome to my blog.

I may know you.  I may not.  You may like what you read here.  You may not.

Either way, this is MY blog, and while I recognize the public nature of a blog, it is still MINE and not YOURS.

This means that if you are reading, you are here in MY space, which is welcoming, warm, and compassionate.  I turn my face away from no one.  At the same time, if you are unhappy here, please do yourself and me a favor by leaving.

No tearful goodbyes.  Just two (or more) adults who agree that we can’t just agree to disagree.  Instead of fighting about it, let’s just be mature and decide that I’m not really for you.

Yes, I want you to love me.  I want you to read every juicy morsel I put down here.

At the same time, this is ME, this is MINE, and I love it, regardless of whether you like it or not.

If you don’t like it, you’re certainly welcome to hit “HOME” on your web browser.  Or, even better, go to the links under “What I’m reading.”  There are various people whom I love reading, who are very different from me.  You will love them, I swear.

Anyways, to my loyal readers, my pretties, thank you.  Thank you for coming back every time.  You guys rock.  Like seriously.  I love you guys!  And though I’m not sure what sick fascination you have with me here, I like it.

Carry on.

*wink*

I’ve been dreaming of Apogaea lately.

Only it’s different people in my dream– and they’re all more calm, more spiritual, more grown up.

Less techno music, fewer hard core drugs…

Maybe it’s not Apo at all.  Maybe it’s DreamTime, or perhaps a festival I’ve never been to; maybe it’s Dragonfest.

This morning, I dreamt I was dancing in the rain.  The people around me were setting up their idols, their camps… It began to rain.  Big fat drops came down slowly, as though the Mother was preparing her festival, too.  My arms upraised, I gave thanks that she provided something to quench our thirst.

It was beautiful.

I think this last year I almost forgot to give thanks.  I almost forgot to soak in every moment.

But even amidst the craziness that was this last year, I haven’t lost it.  I haven’t lost my gratitude.  My utter awe for this planet and how we interact here upon it.

I’d like to participate in some more rituals.  Some dancing in the rain.  Some candle lighting, sage burning, circle drawing… I’d like to reconnect with my spirit again.

I think faith is like that– we sometimes stray.  We sometimes get so caught up in the chaos that is our lives and forget to be thankful.  We lose connection, but only for a moment, because that intense draw from our soul doesn’t forget.  Our soul never forgets.

I think I just grew up a little.
Not be confused with the phrase, “I think I just threw up a little.”
Because growing up is not so bad.  Really.
In fact, growing older really isn’t so bad, either.  Frankly, it’s all good, because I like the person I’m becoming.  Or am.  Already. Or will be.  Tomorrow, and the next day, too.

Anyway, I grew up a little just now.
When I was younger, I found it perfectly acceptable to be considered by men as a sex symbol.  The fact is that I *liked* the attention.
When I drank, I was one of the first ones to take my clothes off.  When I needed attention, I would flirt with men, women, couples, whomever.  When I was feeling low in the self-esteem department, I would do things that would result in attention.  I’m not proud of it, and I’m a little ashamed even to admit it, but I will for the sake of clarity and self-awareness.  It’s not so long ago that I was young and dumb, and used my woman’s prowess as a means to get what I needed.

I once had a boyfriend who treated me very much like his sex kitten.  He liked me to get dolled up in costumes and go with him to flagrant costume parties.  Which I enjoyed, but since I broke up with him, have had other priorities.  I used to think it perfectly acceptable, and had convinced myself that I was madly in love with him.  Which I was, considering the extent that I had learned to love that far into my experience.

The reason that relationship ended was because I had decided that I loved myself more than that.  I loved myself too much to be just someone’s fling.  The man was blatantly not wanting a relationship with me; rather, I was his idea of a good time, regardless of the consequences.  In order to see this man, I would have to be comfortable with his advances towards other women, his affections with other women, and the possibility of him sleeping with other women– which I understood was not going to happen– but was still a possibility.

Since deciding that I was actually worthy of love, I have experienced a love that exceeds every expectation I could have dreamed of.  My lover fell into my lap, from right under my nose.  And it’s absolutely and thoroughly beautiful.  Magnificent.  Amazing.

I feel validated when I am with him.  We get along perfectly.  We are on the same wavelength, and we are happy with each other.  Ecstatic even.  I am worthy of his attention without being a sex object.  I am worthy of attention because I am an intelligent, hard-working, motivated woman, not because of my woman parts.

It’s funny.  I realized I had grown up when I read a gmail tag that said, “Take yer shirt off!”  This was a phrase I heard frequently in my past life, as it was a man’s attempt at convincing intoxicated women to expose themselves. I recognized it as maturation on my part because at one time, that wouldn’t have offended me.  At one time, I would’ve made excuses as to why a grown man would be saying such things to other women, in front of me.  And now, I just find it silly.  And offensive.  Not because he’s saying it to me, but because I know from personal experience, it’s directed at women who are willing to do things like that for the attention.  And that sort of low self-esteem shouldn’t be encouraged in women.  We have a difficult enough time holding our heads high in our pop-culture-infatuated society as it is.

Don’t get me wrong.   My woman parts are fabulous.  They’re the best ones I could ask for, really.  And I’m not ashamed of them.  I love them.  They are part of me.  But they do not define me.  And I certainly don’t need to share them with everyone in order to get attention from my man.
And that, my friends, is a wonderful thing.

My thoughts are with those people who have lost everything in this fire.

I wanted to post these pictures, which I

stole

borrowed from Foxnews.com, because they are absolutely INCREDIBLE photography.  These photos are property of the AP.

Nice work to these photographers.

I am sending protective energy to the brave fire fighters who are doing their best to fight this.

I’m becoming very excited.   I know, you need to contain yourself so that I can tell you why!

In eight months from now, I will have earned my BA in Psychology.  Not just psychology, but with a minor in Chemistry.  Yes, because Psychology and Chemistry just go together.

I have a teeny tiny class schedule problem that I am attempting to resolve.  As far as the schedules go, it would be easier for me to continue to work the job I’m doing now if I take Analytical Chemistry this spring, instead of trying to do it this summer.  As far as I can tell, they offer both of my Psychology classes that I have to do at night during the summer, too, so it seems to me that doing Chemistry in the spring and Psychology in the summer is the best way to handle it.   The challenge is that the night lab for Analytical Chemistry is closed already for next spring.  Closed!  And it’s only been a week since the seniors were allowed to register– and I’m pretty sure that underclassmen still aren’t able to register… so apparently there are a lot of seniors trying to get into Analytical.

Worst case scenario is if I can’t take Analytical Chem in the spring, I will take it in the summer.  It just means that either my current job will have to be okay with my semester of working fewer than 40 hours, or I will have to get a new job.  Which is fine, either way.

*sigh*

The problem about only having four classes to finish before I’m done with my BA is that I have to work harder to make my schedule fit.  It would be SO much easier if I didn’t have to work, but as of yet, I have to work.  And I love my job.  I just put school as a bigger priority than work.  Even though school doesn’t pay the bills yet.  One day, though, it will, and it’ll pay the bills beautifully.

I really, really don’t want to extend my graduation until next fall.  I really would rather get my BA, take the GRE, and then move on to completing the pre-reqs so I can take the MCAT.

So, the program that I’m aiming for is at Colorado University, and it’s called a Medical Scientist Training Program.  It’ll take seven years, and when I’m done with it, I’ll have my MD and my PhD.  And I’ll be in a perfect position to do psychiatric research.  For a long time, I thought I’d like to do research in mood disorders.  Yesterday I found the thought of doing research in Autism pretty titillating.  We’ll see.  I have many years before I have to decide.  Anyway, I’m excited about being so close to my BA.  Eight months is nothing.  I’m going to blink, and the holidays will be over, and it’ll be six months.  Ack!  And then…

I just need to be staunch in my decision to tell my job that I have to put school first.  I can work 40 hours a week, but I live across town in Lakewood, and I commute to Aurora for work. School is in Denver.

Would they really want me to leave work at noon on a Wednesday, and at three on Tueday and Thursday?  My normal hours are 8-4:30.  This semester, I’m getting in at 7:30 when I can, leaving at 5:30 when I can on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and leaving work at 3:00 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  It seems to be working okay.  Except for the days I have the kids, I can’t get in until 8:00, and sometimes I don’t want to stay past 4:30 and… when the lady who stays late normally leaves early unexpectedly, sometimes I can’t stay until 5:00… Anyway, the point is that I’m not sure how much more flexible they’re going to get with me.  The department manager has made it very clear that she will not allow us to work from home.

I was talking with a friend of mine about a research assistant position that will be opening up.  She said it was very flexible, but when I told her the class hours that I might have to take if I’m taking Analytical this Summer, she sounded like that wasn’t really an option.

*sigh*

I don’t want to have to quit my job.  I really love my job, and I’m SO good at it.  It pays me really well, and I love the families.  I could do my job in fewer hours.  I know I could.  I don’t want to go back and forth between work and school in the day, that’s just too much driving. At the same time, I don’t want to delay my graduation when it’s right here at my fingertips as it is.

For some reason this just doesn’t get old…

It’s about being excited for once in our lives!

I had no idea what it was that was wet and kept dripping in my face.

“Whatever you do, don’t let go,” he told me.

The wetness was overshadowed with the exhilaration of flying over the mounds of earth.  Sometimes those mounds even jumped out from underneath us.

We were catapulted across the land on his bike, and my calves were on fire. The exhaust pipe felt like a candle that sat too close to my flesh.

I didn’t let go, though.  I held with as much strength as I could muster.

We were teenagers, invincible.

I wore a helmet.  My heart pounded with every adrenaline surge as we lifted off the ground.

When we reached the summit, he stopped the bike, and got off.  He took of his helmet and I was amazed that it was his tears that had splattered across my cheeks.

So this was riding a dirt bike.

Fascinating.

I’ve yet to do it again.

So, if you’re reading this, and you’re in the screen where you can comment, you’ll notice the little heart thingy with the words CommentLuv on it.  That means that if you have a CommentLuv account, it’ll show a link to your last post in your comment you leave here on my blog.

Why on earth would you want to do that?  Well, the more links you have to your blog, the more traffic you get, and the more traffic, the more comments!!!!  (I know, we’re all secretly comment whores.  It’s just how bloggers are.)

*wink*

So, if you haven’t already signed up for a free account with CommentLuv, do it here: CommentLuv

AND, if you have already signed up, be aware that there’s a contest where you win stuff!  And by stuff, I mean, well, I don’t know what stuff, but Witchypoo already won something, and if she’s doing it, well, I’M gonna do it!!

I hear you found Jesus

At the bottom of your heart

At the bottom of your pit

At the bottom of your glass

I hear you found your peace now

Guess I heard them wrong

They meant to say your “piece now”

Armed against your sins

Don’t listen to your sins now

Read off our names from purgatory’s list

This holy list

Because it’s your job now

Since God went blind,

Senile and decrepit

Your job to take His place now

Paid in tithes and countenance

Strip out those who’ve wronged you

Wipe them from Her face

Abominations

Atrocities

In brimstone sermons

And hell-fire texts

He told you so

They told you so

We told you so

Shoot now

And forever hold your pleas

I play a game of hide and seek; it is I who I am playing. Now I see me, now I don’t, and whether I catch me depends on how much energy I have left within my cells at the moment I catch glimpse of myself in a mirror.

I’m independent, I’m needy, I’m happy, I’m sad… Not cyclic, but concurrent; dynamic…

It’s amazing how much rosier the world appears when you peek through a lens of quiet, of sleepfulness, of non-stress.

I repeat after you, “This is normal, I am normal, this is normal.”

Is it?

I need some chocolate.

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