i wonder about the kiss

i do wonder about the kiss, mostly.  i wonder if i will learn to crave it in the time i’ve have for this relationship to develop.  i can see how it could develop, yet, i am wholly unsure if it will because i feel so much is held back, and i know i won’t be satisfied for long if that keeps up at this level.

new relationships.  this one is now just over 7 weeks and we’ve only had like 6 or 7  days without physical intimacy (not bad for having a new partner who is 30 years my senior, i would say).  i do think about that age difference, i must say.  i wonder if that thought will go away?  i mean, does it bother me, really?  no.  i don’t care, i love being and exploring with this person who is here, and i know that i have an opportunity to not do it as well, and i decide i want to every time.

i do think, like my former husband, my new man’s comfort zone will not fully embrace me at my core, yet i feel he loves my core enough to get close as possible without fully committing to that connection.  I am happy to explore that aspect of what i feel is the way our relationship is stalled from the outset.  i do get tired rejecting his degradation of what he sees as my “potential” when he’s been in my home exactly two times, both barely inside my entry way.  =)  life is good, he’s a smart, intelligent, thinking man, so I expect to enjoy our friendship for long.  his love is real, that much i do know.  =)

No Need 2 Live

truth be told, there’s no need to live
there’s no place that must be seen
there’s no thing that must be done.

oh, sure, we are born.
we are raised however we may have been
we go to school, we learn things, we do things
yet we have no real need to live

we merely do.

at some point, everything we do in life becomes just what we do.
sometimes we enjoy it, other times we’re frustrated
other times ____________ [fill in the blank with the emotional reality du jour]
basically, we have experiences to fetch and tend to emotional feelings derived from those experiences we choose.

there is no need to live
we live to write a story whether we pen a single word or not
the truth that those stories actually have any meaning is irrelevant
under even the best of circumstances because the context is created
by all the rest of us giving context, import and veracity to the stories as being important.
they are not, important, not at all.

there is no need to live.

so why do we live?
i don’t know, really, i think its just our autonomic systems are hellified creations of a story bigger than these one’s we create by amusing ourselves until our autonomic system finally fails and we are relieved of this duty, and hopefully that bigger picture has a reason for us to live even if we don’t really actually have one.

i really seriously wonder why we submit ourselves to this existence.
this “life” is just not fun — its mean and its cruel and its fully of liars and bullies.
it is not fun in any way when you think about that which is being done.
and there is really no need for me to live in this reality.

My Mother

is a bitch.

I suppose that’s where i get it from, although i choose not to direct it at my daughter, like she did with my older sisters her henchmen.  No, i wasn’t Cinderella, unless corporate america was my prince, rescuing me into self-sustainability at age 17. (That’s a scary analogy.)

Having lived through my childhood, I don’t even have to be around her anymore.

Its not that I don’t love her, i do deeply (if you know me, you know something like this would never be shallow); I suppose everyone loves their mother, right?

If only she wasn’t a Pretender (#fuqafukushima who has tym 4 that?), she’s really a very neat and interesting person, when she is being real — i DO remember that part from my early childhood on the farm. And i do, totally see how i am like her and am acutely aware of what I learned from her and use everyday in my life.

Peace, i hold onto that as my life preserver in a world deviant beyond my comprehension.  Peace is the place in my mind where all that is right empowers the work i do to change what is wrong.  Since one cannot change someone else, Pretenders do nothing but undercut the foundation of righteousness in me, in others around them and collectively.

And, i found out, after getting out into the world, I really don’t have to like her, so I don’t try. Because for me to try would require an acceptance she’s right. And, she rarely is, on the right side of what she taught me, anymore these days.

My dad once told me, don’t bother, she won’t change — i was still trying back then. He told me, find those who cherish your mind, that will empower you.  I took (and still take) his advice.

I sometimes think, what if she kept painting? I’d like to think if she did, maybe she would have more of her own thoughts, and wouldn’t watch so much 700 Club and Pat Robertson, and what came years later, Fox News.  Motherhood so twisted, her “mother’s day” message perfect pitch tuned to the song of the Police Union in Baltimore.

Yet, she is not alone. There is a large swath of Americans i don’t like.

If she was a random person on the street, i wouldn’t know to not like her and i would be, you know, common courtesy.  Yet after basic conversations about the weather or baseball, i would not engage further, as false humanity begins emerging at the most shallow of levels these days.

While we hold, fundamentally, the same values, i cannot apply the same deviant beliefs into reality as my mother does — that many people do, especially those i don’t like.

Pretenders, i call her and those like her.  Pretend Christians, Pretend Americans, Pretend Humans. Pretend Authority.  (Sometimes, i do refer to them as Zombies too.)

I pretend all the time.  I deliberately pretend to be different characters almost every day, it helps me to live with the Pretenders.

With my mom, i don’t pretend.  I could, and we maybe would even visit and chat like normal Pretenders do with one another, for me, that’s part of my job and not my real life — which is what life is supposed to be, especially with one’s mother.

Right now, the Pretender mother i have, embosses an ever expanding and increasingly acceptable police target on the back of her granddaughters’ heads with the Pretending she does with her compatriots in the real world.  #fuqoff is my general response to Pretenders like her. I say it with all the love in the cosmos only a real mother could understand.

Happy Mother’s Day exchange …

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Global Police State Standdown. 

cc: my mothet