As I sat down to type this, I was 3 views shy of 20,000 visitors.  When I started this adventure 2 years ago I had no preconceived vision of what I wanted to accomplish by having a space or where it would lead.  So here I am, preparing to close out 2007 and still no idea where I'm headed.  I like it!  The unknown doesn't scare me, it calls to me, pulls me out of my already invisible comfort zone and drives me on.  I'm not going to bore you with the details of my year, I already expressed how wondrous I thought it was.  Why am I here then? 

     Tomorrow is December 31, the last day of 2007.  That means so many things to so many people.  For some it's a chance for a new beginning, the hope to make the next year better, or forget that the previous one was awful.  Some will make lists of goals they want to accomplish and some will continue to lack in all original thought and list things such as: lose weight, eat better, exercise, get organized, quit smoking, and other goals that could easily be accomplished any day of the year, yet December 31 continues to be their last alleged day of debauchery and other such delightful activities.

     I still haven't answered why I am here have I?  Well, tomorrow afternoon you'll be able to find me down at the beach (it's supposed to be clear, sunny and 73 degrees!), yes, again. I do spend a lot of time at the beach, but that is the best part of living where I do.  Seeing as I don't buy into the hysteria of New Year's Eve, I will be frolicking on the sand with my family, parents, sisters and anyone else we can coerce into joining us down in Laguna Beach to witness the last time the sun will set in 2007.  While I'm there I am going to dance, laugh, play, splash, and one of my favorite activities, standing with my arms outstretched and tilting my face towards the sun.  So that's why I'm here.  I want to thank you for being a part of my 2007 and make a wish that 2008 brings a few of us face to face for some memory making.  Whatever you are doing tomorrow night, be safe and remember how much I adore you.  I will take a head count when I post my photos on January 1.  Happy New Year everyone!

With Love,

Raven

     "So for tonight, I'll stay here with you..."    Sitting in a room lit only by the white lights on my tree, I finally make sense of my thoughts, or more precisely, stop over-thinking them. What a strange concept, over-thinking thoughts?  I'm listening to music travel from player to ears to brain until finally, after way too long, it shatters the barriers holding back the words I feared I would never find.  Writing to please an audience is not my strong suit.  If this makes no sense to you, well, best advice I can give you is to get over it and yourself and take this moment to maybe learn something about me you didn't already know.  This might take a while as I have a lot of things swimming in my head.  While many people are foolishly composing their list of resolutions for the New Year or wondering how or where they will join the mindless masses out drinking to excess under the guise of ushering in what is in all actuality merely just  another day, I am here, alone.  If it weren't for the hearing impairing volume at which I am currently listening to whatever until the song cycles to the next choice, I would be in complete silence.  

     I have had an interesting year, and in retrospect, it was a great one!  I pulled some people to their feet and put some on their knees and don't regret a single thing that I have said or done.  Admittedly, there will always be something that I would have scripted differently if the choice were mine, but deep down I know that it's not always about me.  Being knocked down here and there just makes it that much more satisfying when I get back up.  I give a lot of myself, a characteristic that I have been cautioned I should change time and time again.  No one who really knows me ever says this though, it's precisely why they love me.   I will continue to live like I mean it, give freely, fight fiercely, and love passionately because that is who I am.  After 38 years, I have grown quite fond of myself.  I don't know how to morph my personality to suit my target demographic, not even Vaseline on my teeth,  spray glue on my ass, and the promise of a tiara could help me with that.  

     As my brain attempts to recall the events of the last 12 months my eyes close in reaction to the music.  While I listen to the melody and lyrics, I see movement.  Every single note lends itself to a body part, all moving in time, becoming my own personal music video accompanying the soundtrack of this very moment.   Music can be associated with every aspect of my life.  People in my life come to mind when I hear certain songs.  Ever wonder what song I hear that makes me think of you?  Ask me sometime.  Some of the people in my life have entire play lists,  events are the same, good or bad.  At my grandfather's funeral my mother chose Garth Brook's song, "The Dance" for her selection and even being one of country music biggest foes, that song at that moment left me shaking and sobbing when minutes before I was calm and cool.  I have managed, over the last 11 years, to never listen to it again.  On a happier note, 14 years ago, at our wedding, my hubby and I danced our first dance to Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters", that has always been our song. 

     If I could go back and do anything differently this year, would I?  Hell no!  Looking back isn't my way,  but then again, neither is thinking too much about what my future holds.   Living in the moment, though sometimes a struggle, is really the way to go.  I won't lie to myself and pretend that there isn't anything I would like to see happen in 2008.  I don't make resolutions, mostly because I am not much of a list maker, but partly because if there is something I want to accomplish/change/lose/gain/do, etc....I do it when I think of it.  Waiting until January 1st makes no sense at all to me.  This is getting to be too long and Labios Compartidos is playing now, which means that I have a wicked smile on my face and a handsome face in my mind.   I'll be back to finish tomorrow.  I promise. 

     In 1888, The Hotel Del Coronado held it's first holiday celebration.  Last night, some 119 years later, my family and I made the voyage over the Coronado Bridge to witness timeless beauty.  Since I valiantly try to keep my family distanced from the mass hysteria that strikes many people this time of year (and to put some distance between me and both mothers for their own safety), we decided that spending the day at Seaworld, enveloped in the warm California sunshine and surrounded by ocean creatures was a much better alternative to putting on a fake smile and pretending that we celebrate Christmas.  That itself made for a great day, but once the sun set and the park closed, we bid our goodbyes to Shamu and his friends and headed even farther south.  That's when the great day made the transition to magical memorable night!

    A short drive down the freeway placed us on the Coronado Bridge.  If you have ever been to San Diego, you have most likely seen it.  It's the beautifully lit arch that connects San Diego to Coronado Island.  Once on the island, time seems to stand still, hovering somewhere between the early 1900's and the 1950's.  The community itself is quaint and idyllic, but the crown jewel of Coronado Island is easily recognized from atop the highest point on the bridge as you spy the shimmering white lights on the spires of the Hotel Del Coronado beckoning you towards the white sands and Pacific Ocean. 

    Knowing our way around the island paid off as we slipped into a spot right along the beach less than 100 feet from the hotel.  The expressions that spread across my children's faces made the 82 mile drive all worth it.  A mixture of awe and pure unbridled joy was visible in their wide eyes and big smiles as my daughter looked up at me and said, "Mama, it's the most beautiful place I have ever seen".  I know how charged and alive I feel when I am here, I can only imagine how it feels to a child.  My son, being 11, lost all hope of being cool as he stared open mouthed at the hotel, noticing that just on the other side of the rocks where we were standing was the beach.  The full moon shimmered off the crashing waves, the tumbling of the ocean a perfect soundtrack for the chorus of happy voices, big band holiday music and the strolling Victorian carolers.  It was as if every era was being represented, and as overwhelming as it might read, they layered over each other seamlessly creating what could possibly have been one of the most beautiful sounds ever heard.

    As we rounded the corner we saw a new addition to the Del's Holiday magic, an ice skating rink a mere feet from the sand.  Where else can you ice skate within view of the waves surrounded by palm trees wrapped in white lights?  The din grew louder the closer we got to the main hotel, people clad in everything from black tie apparel to jeans and warm fleece shirts all here for one reason, the magic.  Tall outdoor heaters took the chill off the revelers as they ordered drinks from one of the many outdoor bars or waited for their seats in one of the hotel's many amazing restaurants.  It was nearly impossible to decide where to look, our eyes darting around attempting not to miss anything. 

    Despite all that we had seen so far, we still hadn't arrived at the reason why I brought my family all the way down here.  Winding down one of the many meandering paths I led my faithful followers around the corner and stopped them just shy of the main entrance to the hotel.  That's when it hit them, the reason why I was insistent that this year I must go to the Del.  It's the background image on my space right now and in the photo album as well.  Taking a moment to drink it all in, we just stood silently admiring the very same thing that families have been admiring for over 100 years, adding our memories to those of generations of Presidents, movie stars, historical figures and families just like us.  In that moment, we felt like a part of the Del's rich and colorful history. 

    Shaking ourselves back to the moment, we made the walk up the front steps of the hotel and into the richly appointed lobby. Inside the hotel is as breathtaking as the outside, and just as festively decorated.  We spent some time exploring, me pointing out the chandeliers visible through the open door on the Crown Room and whispering to my son, "L. Frank Baum designed those lights".   Even those not a fan of the Wizard of Oz would appreciate the over the top crown shaped chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings of a restaurant that makes every patron feel like royalty. 

   And that is what has always intrigued me about the majestic Hotel Del Coronado, how it manages to be so elegant and classic yet so warm and welcoming.  It truly is magical. 

     Finally!  I resurface, and this time, I come bearing a rant.  A holiday themed rant even, as my gift to all of for you taking time out of your busy lives, oh who am I kidding, you all live to please me!   Those of you who don't are obviously just misbehaving in order to get punished. 

     Before I get to the rant that has been brewing for the last few hours, let me just say that my Holiday Open House, which was actually just a ploy to get people down to my house to celebrate Yule, was the most ass kicking holiday open house EVER! The food was great, the company was great, my kids were well behaved, and P.A.M never made his appearance! I had a steady stream of people in for the better part of the day, the last ones heading out just after 7pm.  I took a few photos, but it's a lot of work to be the hostess with the moistness, ahem, I mean mostess AND be expected to take photographs too.  People brought me booze, which always makes me happy, especially when it's a bottle of X-Rated!! So, I'm adding Yule party to my annual party arsenal, along with the Earth Day extravaganza in April, and the last sunset of the year celebration on New Year's.  That puts me at 3, I think that's sufficient, for now.  Any more than that and I'll need to buy Malibu rum and X-Rated by the case.  Now that isn't a bad idea! 

And now, if I could get a hot man to give me a drum roll (or just a roll even?).....THE RANT

     If you know me at all, or have been stalking me with any proficiency, you'll know that I really hate how the holidays bring out the materialistic whore in many folks, my delightful mother in law being one of the worst cases I have ever experienced.  Now I am fully aware that most of the general population has donned their light up asshats and gay apparel before heading out to search for gifts to give to people they really don't like but for some reason feel obligated to pretend they do instead of hiring me to shoot lemon soaked toothpicks into their eyes from my trusty penis straw. Run on sentence?  Circle it and move on, it's not my screen all marked up with red pen.  But my mother in law, well, she really is just the pickle on my shit sandwich.

    Two weeks ago, she asked if I wanted to go shopping with her to help her pick out clothes for my kids.  Having been sick for a while, I must have been delusional when I agreed and soon I was in a mall with her.  Things were ok, she was her usual self, asking me my opinion on things and then making that face reminiscent of a cow's asshole as the word, "Oooooorrrrrrrr" spewed out of her yap hole.  Why?  Why ask me if I like a pair of pants you want to purchase for MY daughter if you are going to just buy whatever the hell you want?  I could be at home doing something useful like being a bad influence on people, making porn or compulsively masturbating.  Fuck!    

     Finally finished dramatically over buying for my children and sucking the very joy out of the Holiday season, she then turns to me and asks me what I have purchased for the Russians.  Again, if you are just coming out of your coma, the Russians are what I call my spouse's brother's 3 daughters.  Unable to see how this is her business, I answer, "nothing, I've been sick and thought it would be nice not to spread my germs to the whole valley".  As if not listening at all, she then asked, "so how much do you plan to spend on each of them then?"  WHAT!!!???!!!  Being a delightful bitch, I told her that I don't generally assign a dollar value to my affections and walked away.  Before I got to the other side of the store, she was putting 3 shirts on the counter, things she thought I should buy for them.  She's number 1!  She really truly is.  I picked out different items just to be a pill, purchased those and informed her I was done and she needed to drive me home. 

   Cut to finger incident, rocking the Michael Jackson one glove look, preparation for party and the like and I never got around to mailing the Russians their gifts.  This afternoon, my mother in law calls me, under the guise of thanking me for inviting them and seeing if I "recovered" from the party".  Again, the ability to ignore her escapes me and I asked her why I would need to recover.  Stammering and sputtering, she gets to the real reason for her call. "Umm, I talked to Julie (Mother of the Russians for those just joining us), I have talked to her several times this week and I keep asking her if your gift has arrived.  She told me this morning that it hasn't".  Tell me again how this is any of her business?  "That could be because I never mailed it."  Loooooong silence follows, broken by, "well, why not?"  So many things going through my brain, so much profanity, so many ways to ensure she never ever calls me again, but I took a deep breath, visualized her being mauled by a polar bear, and simply said, "Why do you care?"

   She let me know that it was ok that I mail it tomorrow, it will just be a little late.  F U C K I N G  W H O R E!!!!!!  I hand the phone to hubby, and head to the kitchen.  A few moments pass before he sticks his head around the corner, at this point I have a pretty glass with some ice and am pouring a nice healthy amount of X-Rated into it.  I could feel the fa draining right out of my la la la with each sip.  Now if I could only find where I left those reindeer antlers, I'm about ready to take some festive photos for next year's card!

    I won't be home all day tomorrow. San Diego is calling me, so I'm taking the family south for the day.  My wish for you all is that you find some time just for you, even if it's only a few minutes.  I'm off to do the same after my mother's impromptu visit tonight. Between mine and the spouse's, I understand the phrase, "hurts like a mother" much better.  

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Much Love~

Raven

     Next Saturday, I am having a holiday open house.  It seems that this decision has displeased the universe seeing as I have had one setback, major or minor depending on your perspective, since the invitations went out almost a month ago.  Back to back illnesses the last two weeks were enough to throw off my game plan, but what happened today, that would be enough to send a weaker person running for the safety of their bed. But not me, I'm an unstoppable force, remember?

     Today was a gorgeous day, one of those sunny clear days that only California can boast about just 6 days shy of Winter.  Having been cooped up in the house more than I am accustomed to in my attempt to once and for all get healthy, I was bouncing up and down giddy to be outside in the sunshine, then I went back in the house and put on a bra.  Most people wear safety goggles when using powered gardening tools, but I need those fun pillows in their upright and locked position-AND safety glasses to get the job done!  Returning to the front yard to wield my mighty tools of trimming, I set about grooming my bush.  There really isn't anything worse than an unkempt bush, is there?  Up and down, side to side, inspecting it from all angles, I worked on it, making sure it looked just as good from the side as it did from above.  My arm was starting to ache from all the vibrations, which is when being ambidextrous came in handy, so I switched hands.  After an hour of work and several tools, my bush was sheer perfection!  A vision to behold indeed. 

    Discovering that there is such thing as too much vibration, I needed to give my poor arms a break and clean up the aftermath of my overly exuberant bushwhacking, so I traded my long vibrating tool for a good old fashioned broom.  I thought about using the high pressure hose, but that just seemed excessive, even for me.  Broom in hand, I set about sweeping, and that's when the tragedy struck.  The hollow metal handle on my broom snapped, the weight of the broom head swinging it back and trapping a good portion of my right hand between the jagged metal edges.  I tried to drop the broom, but the skin was stuck.  A hoarse hail of profanity shot from my mouth, the hubby dropped his rake and came running and by the time he got there my middle finger was sliced in three places, the palm of my hand had minor cuts and blood was spilling all over the driveway.   He quickly separated the two pieces and freed my captive skin but my hand was a mess and already beginning to swell. Oh yeah, it hurt, like a mother fucker!

   So now, a few hours, a lot of blood, antiseptic wash, non stick gauze, lots of athletic tape, and a Redbull later,  I am thinking of all the things I will be making a list of for you all to help me with!  And...lucky for everyone, my middle finger is already taped up, saves me the trouble of having to lift it.  I guess it's not that different from any other day after all!  If anything else happens this week, I will take it as an indisputable sign that I should spend every holiday from here on out laying on the beach someplace warm and tropical while a hot cabana man meets my every need.  Oh hell, I might just do that anyway! 

    It seems after my delightful weekend, I ended up really sick.  Ok, ill, I am always sick, but in any case, the universe was not so subtly telling me that I needed to slow down a little.  I have had no voice at all for the last two days, but I have logged a hell of a lot of sleep. My family has been fortunate, don't you think?  Me, silent and in bed...every man's dream, right?  So even though I was stuck communicating through interpretive dance and the fine hand gestures I know and love, I needed to get out of the house today!  Cabin fever was taking it's toll.

     My son has an orchestra performance tomorrow night, so we set out to get him some pancy farty shoes to go with his black slacks/tux shirt required outfit.  I was using the complete lack of voice for evil tonight and I darted off, as any good Filipina would (there's a little Imelda in all of us!) to try on this vicious pair of knee high bronze leather stiletto heeled boots I spied as we entered.  If the family called to me, I was prepared to tell them that I was trying to answer, they just couldn't hear me.  I didn't not take into account that buying shoes is much faster for men, and before I could get one boot zipped all the way up, the family was looking for me.  Drat! Thwarted! I feigned my best innocent look, making a mental note to come back without the butt monkeys as I slipped the unworn footie condom in my purse, pulling the other off with the boot and tucking it in my skirt pocket. 

   On the way out of the store my daughter reached into my purse and fetched the little footie thingamabob to hold her super ball she brought with her (why?).  My son wants to know if I have another, so I, again looking so innocent, pull the other out of my pocket and hand it over.  Everyone is happy. For now.

    Back in the warm car I hear Princess Picklebutt show her big brother, Senor Nasty, what she is using her footie condom to hold.  "Look, it's a ball protector" she says proudly.

   Senor Nasty is 11, his response, "That's called a cup."

Princess Picklebutt: "Nuh uh, it's a ball protector. See, it's protecting my ball."

    Senor Nasty (now laughing): "Yeah, that's why I wear my cup, to protect my balls"

Princess: "Stop laughing! It's not funny!  It's protecting my ball! Look, like a pouch, to hold the ball safely"

    Senor Nasty (now nearing hysterics) "I have a pouch too, the cup slips inside it, and then my balls are protected!"  Dissolving into a fit of uncontrolled laughter (where do you think he gets that?) 

Princess Picklebutt is plotting her comeback.  She is very deliberate with her words.  Senor Nasty has taken this time to stretch his footie thing over his mouth and nose, hook it over his ears and now resembles Hannibal Lechter. Princess Picklebutt sees her opening, she shoots, "Oh yeah, well at least mine wasn't on Mom's foot!"  She scores!!  The crowd goes wild!!

   Senor Nasty rips his off his face and demands to know if that's true.  I am laughing my breathy squeak of a laugh from the laryngitis so he turns to Dad for confirmation.  "Dad, did mom answer me? Was this really on her foot?" 

Hubby, trying his best to remain neutral in this whole comedy of errors states, "I don't know,she's just laughing, if she talks she'll cough." 

   Senor Nasty is an honors student, and he knows me better than most people could ever hope to. Resigning himself to the fact that he has indeed just put a miniature nylon that had recently been on his mother's foot over his mouth and nose, he now sits, silently plotting his revenge.  It will never happen, I always win! 

     My energy that is?  It's warm, draws you in closer, makes you smile and grab for my hand just so you don't lose track of me. Feel it yet?  I had the most incredible weekend!  Last night I took both of my kids and my Dad to a college basketball game at the local university.  Sure, it was two pretty obscure teams, not exactly powerhouse basketball, but my son was keeping stats for  the first half, the tickets were free and I got to spend time with my Dad, it's a winning situation for all!  UCI spanked the Alaska Nooks 87-53, my boy learned how to keep/convert stats, my daughter made her own sign that stated she loved The Eaters(UCI's team) and Alaska-she's an equal opportunity fan. I also discovered while driving in the pouring rain from my house that having my dad as a passenger in the car makes me feel like I'm 16 again!  Why is that?  In any case, after the first half, when the kids keeping stats had 10 minutes to convert their tallies to percentages and run them to on official on the floor, I loved watching my son run back into the stands to throw his arms around my dad and exclaim, "I love you Boppa!".  The look on my dad's face was priceless!  Those are the moments that count.  But that wasn't even the best part of my weekend.

    Today my youngest sister drove down and we set off for the last day of the Sawdust Winter Fantasy festival, or as my daughter called it, The Tostada Festival.  It's one of my favorite events around here.  All of the artisans are local, they hand make everything they sell, and it's all so incredible.  My favorite part are all the glass blowers.  I LOVE art glass and well, I just love glass!  Jewelry, sculpture, beach glass, smooth glass, hot glass...glass is so organic and sensual.  It captures light and swims with colors.  It feels cool to the touch, but in the case of jewelry, in a matter of moments, it matches the body heat of the lucky wearer.  Each piece is is made by hand, and there are demonstrations going on all day. It's mesmerizing to watch the artist breathe life into what eventually becomes art.  You can feel it's energy before you even touch it.  I took some photos, qu'elle suprise, but that still isn't all!

    After we left the festival, my sis and I were in search of something to nourish our bodies too.  We ended up driving through the neighborhoods and parking amongst some quaint little beach homes nestled in the hills of Laguna Beach. One of the things I love about Laguna is despite the ludicrously high per capita income, the city is without pretension. Tiny vintage beach cottages from the early days of Laguna dot the landscape, shimmering little gems amidst the multi-million dollar real estate.  We were parked in front of a tiny story book-esque cottage complete with the white picket fenced yard and wildflowers in a riot of colors everywhere you could see.  The front porch just looked inviting, and imagining sitting there sipping a tall iced tea or a hot cup of coffee with a close friend was no stretch at all.  The walk back down the hill lead us to this tiny hole in the wall beachfront place that has been open since 1931.  The Orange Inn serves all natural food and only has a counter,  6 stools, and two window seats to choose from, my sister and I choosing to park our magnificent backsides in a window seat to give the passers by a nice view.  It was cold and windy  today, so our baked potatoes, homemade soup, and steaming hot cafe au laits were perfect  to make us feel warm and full. 

    Setting back out to spread our joy amongst the general public, we spent the rest of the afternoon leisurely wandering in and out of thrift stores, boutiques,  ducking into a tiny brick paved and ivy covered alley that contained such hidden treasures as a place to buy decadent handmade chocolates and candies (not those paraffin filled factory made chocolates from Godiva or *shuddering* See's candy) AND....a little mom and pop place that makes their own gelato right there!  I have never had gelato, so of course we had to have little emerald green funky flower shaped bowls today.  I chose double dark chocolate chip and my sis had pistachio, that way we could share.  YUM!  I discovered that although I am not an ice cream fan,  I LOVE gelato!!  We took our gelato down to the boardwalk to watch the sunset and then ambled back up PCH, darting in and out of the non chain shops like happy little fish in a reef,  the conversation continuous and the laughter plentiful.  By the time we got back to my car it was dark, but I'm pretty sure you could still see the energy radiating from me.  

PS-Don't forget to check out the photos.  Just a few this time.  

     This morning the walls of my house seemed to close in on me.  A winter storm brought rain and wind and a desperate need to escape.  Packing a backpack with my heavy winter coat which hasn't been worn in years, an umbrella, my cell phone, wallet,  and my camera, I set off in search of solace.  As I stepped onto my front porch, the sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets of water blown sideways by the wind.  I pulled out of the neighborhood, still unsure as to where I was going, and just let the storm guide me. 

     "My pain is caused by my pleasure " filled the space in my car as I navigated the streets of the safest city in America.  "I can't get you out of my head" growling at me as I turned the CD up loud enough to shake the rear windows. A trace of a smile slowly made it's way across my face as I took a left turn.  I know where I'm going now, and it's just what I need.  Soon I was entering a canyon, the dark skies and clouds overhead making it seem even narrower than usual.  That smile coupled with heavy metal being played at an ear bleeding decibel became a full blown ear to ear grin.  My little car was flying past the 40 mph speed limit signs, and despite being fully aware that this stretch of road is well known for it's high number of fatal head on collisions, my speedometer needle came to rest just shy of 65.  I know this canyon like the back of my hand, it's twists and turns are just a part of my being.  I could drive it with my eyes shut, but I won't. Not today anyway.

    5 minutes later I was on Pacific Coast Highway, and with the weather being what it was, parking right along the sand.  I ended up in Laguna Beach, which is not really a surprise. Life just seems to make more sense there.  As soon as I opened my door I was glad I brought my coat; the wind was howling down there too, but there was no rain.  I stood high on the cliff leaning over the railing to snap some photos before heading down towards the rocks and water.  As far as I could see, in any direction, there was no one. Not a soul.  The wind unceremoniously natted my curls into dreadlocks as I navigated the surf and rain soaked rocks, capturing the scenery along the way. 

     My exploration halted between two big rock formations as I stood in awe.  Out on the horizon a band of golden sunshine was clearly visible,  the clouds had parted enough to tease with promises of blue skies.  I just stood, my own arms wrapped around me, and listened to the waves crashing a few feet away.  The sound soothed my soul.  In that moment, I found the calm I had so desperately been missing. 

I want you to remember this:

     Sometimes life gets difficult, painful even, and more than a little scary.  Just remember that love is like a parachute.  Slip it on and wear it a while.  Know it's there.  Don't think of it as an extra weight on your back, just think of it as a method of escape when the cabin pressure gets to be too much.  Love, like a parachute, enables you to stand a little closer to the edge.  It makes falling less frightening.  Keep your hand on the cord, just in case.  You'll know when the time has come to jump, but don't be afraid.  Like a parachute, love tightens around your chest as you fall for a while, disoriented and scared, wondering what will happen to you should you crash.  Once you have your wits about you again, you'll pull the cord.  That's when love, like a parachute, yanks you hard, takes your breath away, then opens around you protectively, giving you a chance to experience the sensation of floating.  Relax and enjoy.  The view is spectacular, and if you are brave enough to make the leap and pull the cord, the landing will be much softer.    

Musings and deep thoughts  from the twisted mind of the Magnificent Raven

     OK!  Crap people!! Can't a woman have an over the top, sobbing so hard your entire body hurts, can't sit upright, eyes swollen and bruised from crying emotional breakdown in peace?   Sure, I admit, I should perhaps pace myself a wee bit more when it comes to crying.  9 nearly continuous hours of it last Thursday, which spilled over on to most of the day Friday was a bit excessive, but what can you do?  When you're hurt, you're hurt.  Repressing it and instantly moving on simply makes you an unfeeling asshole and unnecessarily burdens your soul.  Hurting reminds us that we are human and we still feel.  Feel like undercooked death left out in an alley, but feel just the same.  Plus, I confirmed on Friday that I do indeed control the weather!  It rained ALL day!  That'll teach you to doubt my powers. 

   What matters is that I have officially put on my big girl panties, well, ahem, ok, I officially am not wearing panties, but you get the point.  It's time to get back to my old ass shaking, amazing energy, singing at the top of my lungs self.  Sad doesn't suit me.  Unfortunately, being me is what got me into this whole thing to begin with.  But I don't know how to be anything else, and quite frankly, I do sooo enjoy being me, in all my beautiful flawed glorious humanity!  I highly recommend being your true self to everyone.  It's liberating!

    So DJ....if you could please cue that song one more time for the people in the cheap seats...I have some light up reindeer antlers with my name on them and a brass pole in dire need of a good nasty buffing. 

Thanks for bearing with me.  That will move all of your names to the end of the "people to be punished later" list.  Well maybe not all of you.