Swim With Me

I may not be a mermaid, but approach me with caution.  My mind swims at depths most would drown in.

Sloth

sloth
 /slôTH,slōTH/

noun

1. reluctance to work or make an effort; laziness. "he should overcome his natural sloth and complacency" synonyms: laziness, idleness, indolence, slothfulness, inactivity, inertia, sluggishness, apathy, accidie, listlessness, lassitude, passivity, lethargy, languor, torpidity, slowness, heaviness, dullness, shiftlessness

This could not be more, me. today.  I've not on ounce of energy or gumption to do anything.  Seriously, if the house catches fire, just get my fur babies out.  Let me sleep and if I survive it's meant to be.  That is how mentally, physically, emotionally tired I am.  I cannot even get around to making a note to give a single fuck.  I don't even wan rum or vodka.  I'm just too tired.

Up Too Long Unsupervised

Growing out ones hair is a tedious and frustrating task.  While attempting to will my top length to speed up it's growth, the sides and back were looking shaggy.  Overall I was beginning to look more and more tragically broke emo, and less sassy urban chic.  Hence while awake too long, and totally unsupervised I whipped out those clippers and undercut this shaggy bob I'm rocking while my hair decides if it'll grow or just remain in this tragically hip state of mind. 

The Mercury Has Dropped

So why the fuck am I still so hot under the collar?  I know I'm tired, but damn if I ain't acting hangry to the 10th power.  I can't even claim I'm pmsing.  I dare say I need a new outlook.  Or maybe just a swift kick in the ass.

Repent it's Lent

The annual midnight Bourbon St. sweep brought the Carnival season to a close.  So ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  Yeah, it's Lent.  Y'all take it easy.  We made it through another one, New Orleans.

I do hope mes ami  that you got plenty to atone for.  Hope you all said a fond farewell to the flesh. 

It's the cycle, Crescent City. And we are startin' it again.

Might I wish a fond see you in my dreams to the Krewe's of Selene, Bacchus, Poseidon, Morpheus, Endymion, Zulu, Krewe du Vieux, of of course REX!


Rest up mon amis, for there are only 355 days until we feast again.

 

Fais Do-do tis Carnival!

Just one more day, one day until Lent.  So let's have it, the merriment before the penance, and the feast before the fast.  I'm gonna keep y'all company all the way down, even if not in person.  Hey, brothers and sisters, y'all know what "carnival" means in Latin?

 Well, this Firefly went to the good schools, so she can tell you all about it.  "Carnival.  Farewell to the flesh. "  That's what it means.

"Farewell to the flesh. "

 When the Catholic Church realised they couldn't rid us of our pagan ways, - They invited... - Jesus.

This explains a lot.

It has been suggested by some scholars that the pagan practice of “weeping for Tammuz” that Ezekiel decried (Ezekiel 8:14) was the actual origin of Lent. Tammuz was a pagan god associated with death and rebirth in nature and the husband of the goddess Ishtar.

Well today is the day, New Orleans.  lt's Mardi Gras. And time is already runnin' out.  When the clock strikes midnight, when good ol' Comus greets Rex, when the police on their horses come to sweep us out of the Quarter, it, mes amis, is histoire.

Lent starts tomorrow, mes amis, and me, l want somethin' tasty to give up.   That's right, it's Mardi Gras. lt's Fat Tuesday, and l am fat.  My belt is broken, my pants are open, my belly is a mountain of love stuffed with oysters.  And y'all know what tomorrow is.  Ash Wednesday.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  And you can keep the silverware, cos tonight l'm eatin' with my hands.

You better hurry before they get here. The men on their horses, sending us out of the streets and into our home to repent for all of our sinnin'.  Hours to go, hours till judgment.  So get drunk, get fatter, and get fucked.

 Yeah, you're right. l said it.  Y'all can trust the Firefly.


Laissez les bons temps rouler!

I'm Not Her

My door won't be unlocked.  My possessions aren't going to be openly shared.  My ears aren't going to be there to listen.  I do not wish to spend my free time in your company, and you are not free to just ask for anything your heart desires. 

I'm not her. 

I don't like you, nor do I owe you anything.  I don't trust you.  I find you lacking in every facet of your life.  You're a failure at life, and much like your trash; I want it kept on your side of the fence. 

Raise Your Bar

Always walk above the crowd.  Never settle for a life you know you can live better than and never settle for just anyone.

No Rest For The Wicked

On the rare occasion that I am actually able to have a nap before work, I do not wake up refreshed or invigorated.  Point of fact, I tend to wake up all asholey and fighty.  That's right, if you're gonna make me nap, best be sure you are ready for the slumbering bitch to come alive and eat your soul.

Coffin Ridge

Last night I couldn't seem to do anything right.  Hell most of yesterday it felt that way.  I was a walking, talking, stumbling, mumbling train wreck, with a blast radius that just didn't seem to quit.  Much like my hips, and no they don't lie.  My wave of destruction and chaos followed me into work; much to my horror.  I could not have done worse if I'd stood back like 15 feet and just lobbed parts at the machine, while hoping for a stellar outcome.

Oh what a night... Though it isn't late December, nor is it '63. 

As I've mentioned I was struggling with what to do about this apparent requirement for a divorce and possibly looking to walk that plank...errr isle again.  Turns out that's just never going to happen.  Not now.  Don't get me wrong, the Pirate and I are fine and dandy, or we will be once I stop feeling annoyed?  That's not exactly it, maybe hurt?  I'm not really accustomed to this "human feelings" bullshit so I'm no certain.  I just know that when I mentioned that I was trying to find my marriage certificate online and then a reasonable do-it-yourself divorce package as he had requested I "get my shit in order so I can e his Mrs Pirate".  He responded with, "well just remember that you're never taking my shit when you leave."

I was gobsmacked.  Here I was stressing over events that I can barely remember.  Seriously I haven't a clue as to when my ex-current husband and I got married.  Nor do I care, except that I need that information for divorce papers, and my current love, man of my dreams comes out with that horse shit.  You've got to be fucking kidding me.  1: Any relationship I've walked away from be there kids involved or not, I've walked with what fit in my single backpack and never once looked back.  Never once asked for or received child support or any other form of financial aid, let alone taking anything that I hadn't bought myself for myself or was a family heirloom.  Which I promptly snapped back at him with.

Angry, in that moment it was more like livid.  In that moment I also saw that he'd already come to the conclusion that we won't last.  This isn't forever.  Of course I can stop being an annoyed wife for 5 and see exactly why he said it and where he's coming from.  I truly can.  He's justified in those general feelings but I've never given him reason to doubt me and there I sat, being doubted.  it fucking sucked.  It stayed with me all night and even this morning I found myself still .... upset if the only term I can use that makes sense.  I can't nail down the emotion.  It's just not defining itself at present. 

Suffice to say my views on marriage haven't gotten better with this latest occurrence.  In fact it completely solidified my belief that marriage is just never going to be for me.  That dream is long since died and trying to raise the dead is always a bad idea.  We all saw pet cemetary right?  Look how well that turned out.  No thanks.  Those dreams I had of being a beautiful bride with that handsome dude waiting for me with that shit eating grin on his face, ecstatic to see me walking to join him in wedded bliss wasn't ever meant to be anything more than a really cool dream. 

Now I'd actually be pretty chill about it all in reality, but it all kinda snowballed into me being a nonemotional/emotional idiot who let a past remark sneak it's way into the assorted mess and just eat at me all fucking night.  By the gods and goddesses when I turn silly female I go for the gusto.  No need to do things half assed with me.  Let me take that almost healed wound and pick at it till it's a gaping void and bleeding out like a gunshot victim.  Go me!   

Serving the Baron

Baron Samedi aka: Baron Saturday my Loa, my friend.  It's that kind of Saturday already and it's only 10:51 am.

For the so called complicated woman that I am, I like my life exceptionally simple.  I dislike drama, and the tediousness of needy, self indulged people.  They almost always seem to require some life sucking, energy draining attention that just makes my trigger finger itch.  I lack patience and the understanding to deal effectively with such individuals.  That isn't to say that I am not going to be readily there for anyone whom requires true aid, I just refuse to enable or put up with those that act helpless but are anything but.

Why am I surrounded by so many of them?

Thankfully today the Baron has granted me life once more and the drive to continue on.  One day he will decide that it is time for me to join him.  Today however, isn't that day.  When my day comes I will greet him fondly with a cigar, rum, and some bawdy joke to make him laugh.  The Baron and I will be fast friends.

Until such time arises, I raise a glass and tip of the hat in him honour.    

Not Today

Self care is an important part of anyone's life.  Many forget that, or choose to ignore it; I know for many years I did.  I no longer do that.  I know and understand that if I am unable to care for myself then I am most certainly unable to care for anyone else.  Lessons learned.

Yesterday and today still, I am not in the mood to listen to others trivial bulshit.  I don't want to hear how hard it is for you to be apart from your girlfriend, or how you just don't like having to do those dishes that other leave lying around.  Those are all fixable things.  Easily fixable things.  They aren't the end of the world.  They are temporary issues, and your sitting around complaining about them isn't going to change any of it.  We all have little issues, triggers if you will; but they are on us to correct them.  So do it.

I've a loved one whom likes to whine and complain about those issues.  Of course this complaining can continue nonstop for an hour easily.  It is an hour of my time I am not willing to give up. 

  "Where do they teach you to talk like this? In some Panama City "Sailor wanna hump-hump" bar, or is it getaway day and your last shot at his whiskey? Sell crazy someplace else, we're all stocked up here."  -As Good As It Gets

I am not answering the phone, nor am I taking in visitors.  I am grieving and will do so for as long as I need to.  No complaining, no explaining.  Those that decide to throw hissy fits over it, well they can go pound rock-salt.  Zero fucks will be given.  Zero. Decide what you want out of your life and then make it happen.  Today I will cry, today I will laugh, today I will simply be.  Tomorrow I will go back to work, and I will smile when and where I need to.  I will be an active member of society, and I will fake it to the very best of my ability. 

Tomorrow.

Catching Lightening

What does "mainstream" mean to you? 

Over the years mainstream to me has come to mean sweet fuck all.  Mainstream or often time social norms, has given us a culture of permissiveness to all the "isims" and negativity that has feminists and out of the box thinkers shouting louder than Susan Powder "stop the insanity!"  Mainstream thinking would have us believe that rape culture is the norm and ok.  That women are still best when married with children, and far too emotional than men. 

Mainstream has young girls believing that numbers are important; and yes they are if you are an economist, a mathematician, a scientist, or any of the other jobs that require an acute attention to numbers.  However mainstream isn't focusing on those things are they?  No they are focusing on the size of our breasts, waists, age, and height to weight ratio.  Mainstream has us focusing on having the perfect beach body, and so many other harmful stereotypes. 

There are so many more glass ceilings to break through, chains to break, minds to expand, and souls to set a blaze with a passion for so much more than what is to be accepted as the norm.  My visions of life at 50 and beyond has nothing to do with slowing down, finding a cozy sweater, or of thinking about retirement.  I've always said that I haven't a problem settling down, its the settling that I will continue to push back against.  As though because of my age I must slow down and just accept that this is how it is and is going to be. 

Fuck that!

I have zero fucks for societal norms and the expectations that those whom follow mainstream thoughts hold for me.  Mature women are far better at catching lightening then men are.  We can adapt faster and understand the value of catch and release like few others.  Our value does not decline as we age.  Our power grows exponentially with each year and every new experience. 

We don't often see that, and it's merely because it's not part of the social norm.  There are those of us whom are changing that.  We are pushing back against what is expected of us and showing other's that what we expect of ourselves is of far greater importance and value.  We are changing the game, changing the narrative, and changing what the face of maturity looks like.  We are walking, lifting, and powering our way through those barriers both in and outside of the gym. 

Each of us has the ability to change the minds, hearts, and thought process of not only ourselves but those around us.  We are a GRRRL ARMY and we will not be stopped by anyone.  We are mothers, sisters, grandmothers, friends, lovers, and we will not stand by silently as has been so often the expectation.  We will not allow our worth to be defined by our size or our age.  She is not my competition, she is my equal even in all of our beautiful, powerful differences.

KO Founder of GRRRL Clothing

         

It's like rocket science

I'm interrupting my jubilant to do list making ... okay I'm finally doing what I should have done days ago, why don't you just go fuck yourself? ... to tell you a few things that came to light for me whilst on the toilet:

1. I'm done with this red hair.  I'm going way dark again.

2. I am wearing underwear called,"Barely There". Only it's everywhere. From upper thigh to above the belly button. Perhaps if I painted some sort of thong pattern on them they would have the appearance of being sexy while still being the most comfortable thing on my ass since pumpkin pudding.

3. My hair is sort of sticking up in the back but not in my cool mohawk pattern, but more of a "whoohaa who scared you?" type array. The question then is,"Is it worth the effort to actually brush it out when I am still in my thong and wifebeater?" 

4. This toilet sits way low to the floor when I'm wearing heels.

Pieces of Me

I used to enjoy dancing the night away and greeting the day with a group of friends regaling the night's events with them by my side.  Now I find myself spending the night's I don't work, alone with a book in my hand; getting lost in a whole other universe.  I'm told that there's this spark in my eyes when I get excited and am truly passionate about something.  That I've a fire in my soul.  I enjoy talking about everything and anything; and I'm far more open-minded than people thought I would be.  I can still wish only good for those who've hurt me.  I hope to someday find someone whose love doesn't need to be questioned.  To welcome into my life another who supports, motivates and appreciates me for exactly who and what I am.  I know I am better off today than I was yesterday.  I know who I am and what I stand for.  Laughter, loyalty, passion, growth, acceptance, and forgiveness. 

Pieces of me, those which strengthen and make me vulnerable just the same.

Bloody steak and apples

An almost pretty little beast with a mind all it's own.  Snarking at me when I seek shelter as it rages amid the storm.  Wielding lightening bolts, as I count the distance of thunder.  We dance a dance of life long admiration and hate.  A give and take of sorts coupled with a battle of wills in equal measure.  Tongue in cheek responses met with solomn declarations.  We take turns in our expressions, rarely meeting amicably upon our chosen battle field.  It wanders along the shoreline while I dive headlong naked into the icy waters, whispers of decorum rippling out along the waves behind me.  I slow to take stock, give up my thanks to the Gods and Goddesses and it opens it's maw to howl at the moon while dancing wildly calling me outrageous in my silence!

We are a pair.  Different and the same, housed together for an eternity.  A battle of wills and desires binding us together in our inescapable bawdy dance.  Yet there are moments, few and far between as they may indeed be, when I think of you; it stretches out as though soaking in the suns rays and smiles along with me.  Listening to the music of our soul, in a rhythm only we can hear and feel.  Humming along with me, making us truly one.

Tornado Touchdown

Dear Texas Residents,

My heartfelt sympathies to those in Canton, and all area's effected by the tornado touchdown.  We've seen gentler and we seen harsher storms my loves and still we rise.  Hang in there and while I cannot be there with you I am thinking of you. 




Dear Tornado,

Must you always hit those whom don't deserve it while blatantly ignoring my fuckwit of a husband who is right there.  Easy pickin's tornado. E-Z pickin's.  On your next pass through, please just take him!

If I' only killed him when I first thought about it; I'd be out by now.

Time Marches On

Time does indeed march on and as you age, as I am; you will find it's marching with an entire troupe across your face.  My once resilient and impossibly youthful skin has begun to remind me that while I may feel ageless most days, it is requiring some extra care.  Between age and work environment, which in my case is quite a harsh environment my face is freaking the hell out to put it mildly.  Never before have I had to deal with this many breakouts and tenderness from my skin.  About a week ago they moved around a fair amount of stuff at work, thus sending my already irritated skin into a tailspin of "fuck you all, I'm going to turn red, rashy, and hurt like a mother fucker" began. 

I had breakouts as a teen, much the same way we all did when our youthful hormones kicked it up a notch and did their version of Stuart's, "Look what I can do!"  Yet this is completely new to me.  My youthful breakouts were nothing compared to this level of insanity.  For some of you, it will seem like hell; while to others still you'll Z-snap and say, "gurl, that ain't nothin!"  Of course each of our mileage will vary, it's just that for me personally; I'm beginning to look into the mirror and feel as though Keith Richards is staring back at me. 

I've never been one of those girls to have a massive beauty routine.  The entire notion of it bored the life out of me and made me feel like some ridiculous self absorbed princess.  I am in no way trying to turn back the hands of time and look 20 something again.  I had my time, and I lived the width and breadth of it without any regrets.  I am happy to embrace my path towards some form of maturity in all it's glory, I would simply like to do so without red, inflamed, itchy pockmarked skin.  So today, I sit with a freshly activated charcoal washed face, a clay mask now drying upon said face, and a glop of salicylic and glycolic acids waiting in the wings in the efforts and hope that my face will purge all of the ick and just calm the fuck down! 

Here's to the ageing process and seeing what I can do next!

But They're Pink!

Not these one's thank the gods old and new.  These are the Saucony road runners, and they are like slippers with speed.  Yet low and behold I had to buy new runners, and buying just one pair with my dancers feet is not even an option.  You see when you have feet like mine you tend to go through shoes, even the expensive ones fast.  So I hunt for sales and something that isn't fucking pink!

It's always interesting buying new shoes.  At least it is for me with my way ugly dancers feet.  My toes go into a point my bunions are massive and not going anywhere ever.  So when I step on the foot sizing contraption the look upon the poor salesman's (in this case) faces is humourous.  My feet thanks to years of foot binding torture in pointe shoes has ensured that the "one size fits all" approach is not even an option.  So assuming that a B width shoe will work will have me rolling my eyes and shaking my head.  The salesman in this case was pretty good.  He didn't recoil in horror or abject fear.  As has been known to happen in the past.  Seriously.

To his credit he looked me in the eye and said, "you've got the widest feet I've ever fitted.  I imagine wearing heels would be excruciatingly painful for you."  Ahh a young man with a brain!  I liked him already.  "Yes, I can say without any preamble that high heels are a death sentence for me in 99.9% of the cases.  I have to wear something that is actually tailor made for my feet."  When he nodded and added, "any man that asks you to wear heels should be shot if he isn't paying to have them made for you then" I almost threw him to the ground and rode him like a pony.  Alas I maintained a sense of decorum and remembered that he looked to be about 24 at best.  More's the pity for me.

He and I went over what it was that I required in a shoe and discussed the best options with the best price points.  Noting that I had to buy two pairs to ensure I got through the month, he pulled out all the sale items for me, bless his heart.  (Oh that statement...)    Anyhow, we found two of my favourite brands and went with those that would give me the most flexibility around my super wide feet, yet amazingly narrow heel.  Steve brought me out the Saucony's which felt like butter (insert yiddish voiceover right there) and a pair of Asics that had me eyeing him a tad wearily.  "Steve darling, do I look like a woman that wears pink?"  I guffawed at him.  His resounding chuckle and bally's "oh sit your butt down and just try them on for me," was impressive.  Steve had chutzpah.  I like that.

Steve was also right.  Something I like and loathe.  So there I was with a pair of purple and PINK Asics on my feet and quite pleased with them.  Kudo's Steve, until we meet again.  xo The no longer barefoot ballerina.

Aging with flare

1. I've noticed a lot more facial hair lately. It'should black and coarse and yes I understand it is all a part of aging. Well either that or I have spent so much time in the company of wolves that I am turning into one. I believe I may be failing at growing old gracefully.

2. I have embraced massages. This is a splurge that I am willing to budget heavily for if necessary.  Although when I loose toral feeling in my hands and arms, or the numbness in my thumbs fades to sheer pain; it's less indulgence and more therapy so I can continue to unzip my own pants.

3. Today I looked into the mirror and actually studied my face. It's not sone thing I typically do. I don't fuss over lines, wrinkles, age spots. I'm getting old and that's ok.  Today though, I noticed a new line next to the corner of my mouth. For a split second one that sarcastic bitch in my shouted out, "fucking great, now we've got old hooked mouth." It wasn't my best self assured moment. I should probably just get laid.

4. I had a 10 extra minutes in the shower to scrub away the grease build up from work. Did you have any idea that shit soaks into your pores and even when you're clean it's there waiting below the surface to ooze out like a bad ex? I didn't. So I scrubbed and scraped thone first 2 layers of flesh right off. I can't believe people pay for that. Ps: my skin hurts.

5. I had wine, while overly tired and dyeing my eyelashes. What could go wrong there?

6. I have full vision again, encased by gorgeous lashes. So Im chaulking it all up as a win. Im like a beauty doctor, or an eye surgeon.

7. I had a coffee date, cause good, bad, or indifferent; coffee! So yay! He had a slightly larger head ontop of a regular sized body. No biggie. But he had time you hands.... fuck that shit I was so outta there.

8. Yes I am fully aware of my front row seat status in hell. With age comes wisdom.