Month: December 2022

It really irks me to just walk away.

That’s not the usual way I play.

Projects and goals that have kept me climbing mountains – only to keep sliding down from that final face’s slip-treachery – are things that I guess I must just walk away from.

Add a little 5-string bass and keyboard training, with a splash of learning how to transpose my songs into sight reading.

First lesson date acquired!

Man, I got some swag – and it comes out when I reconnect with other musicians.

I know what it means to be hip – so don’t trip!

We’re all just tryin’ to get along, here.

Maybe I will also pick up that learning accents class.

At least here, the doors are opening to be allowed to finish my Teaching English To Foreign Learners training.

Some things are just not worth trying for, anymore.

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn? “

Elizabeth’s father, Pride And Prejudice, A&E version

This year, an agency sent some funding to help toward my ability to finish my Bachelor’s degree.

It was like a godsend, for finances were a major barrier to finishing my remaining 12 units.

Another bout of external-circumstantialy-enforced homelessness delayed my attendance, and though people at the school knew I was fighting to return, one department did not step up to support me.

I found out, now that I have benn planning to attend online in January, that student accounts  returned the money to the agency – without asking or informing me.

Goodbye Bachelor’s dream and the supposed relief that comes when from your promised, societally-approved help to lift me above the world’s economic barriers.

It is a good thing I have learned – as I keep learning from new ways of having my nose shoved into the sh** and dragged back and forth – to not depend on anything that I am told can be mine by ascribing to dictates of society.

Some people are given it while others work hard to earn it.

Just making ends barely meet by pushing efforts to roll the heavy boulder up the hill – to have it fall back to square one. I guess this is the thrill?

Slowing my pace while removing myself from conflict allows others to think about a given situation and step up to the plate to express their own tendencies.

I am trying to repurpose proactive attention into ready and alert waiting for good timing to best respond to others’ choices and behaviors.

I am more effective.

I think that the ideal of having a good job from an employer is now becoming completely overshadowed by the continuance of opposite experiences. Perhaps it is best to be independent.

When speaking openly with honor consistently, it seems a theme that eventually other people may become jealous, feel threatened, and/or attempt to sabotage well-built relationships.

They can go only so far as each involved party puts energy toward them.

It gives me great anxiety if I am in need because being in need is not necessarily seen as a respected position of authority.

However, if accompanied by the proper positive perspective, one can present their case well and gain supportive assistance.

Daring to retrieve one’s faith which became bound by a matrix of nonbelievers.

Why do I need people who don’t need me?

An archaic term these days.

I have it, but I do not flaunt it.

I was attracted to the fine-looking officer because I thought maybe as a warrior, he could relate.

But it seems that men just want plasticized arm candy for their extended dates.

If you ever need to stay longterm in a hotel, invest in a heating blanket.

The blankets are never warm enough, and the heater may frequently go on-the-blitz.

Having one now, I see that having one then would have made a great difference!

My bravery and tenacity gifted me with two lovely children, where the dancer had none by marrying her own musician.

They had such a large, beautifully-exotic wedding with American-Middle Eastern-Eastern Indian flares in fabric and decor and the most amazing, flavor-adventure cuisine.

She came over briefly and doted upon my eldest who at the time was only about a year old with curls at nape of neck.

My partner and I were split up at the time, as I had just moved back to San Luis Obispo from Santa Barbara. My eldest and I were living briefly in a trailer with a woman I found out later was frauding AFDC.

My firstborn and I soon moved out from that dicey situation to an apartment by the heavily-rumbling 101 North. I could not sleep at this location, and we eventually reunited with my ex-partner.

I wanted our children to know their father closely, unlike mine who had been driven from our home due to his antics in my own early childhood.

My mother did not believe in second chances unless her man came back upscale and willing.

Years later, the dancer divorced her husband and had obtained her Master’s in Psychology.

When the kids and I went through homelessness the first time, I qualified for the last of a community grant that got us into a house – and then it was up to me to keep it.

I struggled with what my career path could be that would allow me to be available to my two then teens, yet bring in enough money for our survival without my yet-acquired Bachelor’s.

I returned to housecleaning, having somehow forgotten that I had been a healer before my partner’s life situation had taken over everything.

During this transitional period from being without a home to holding one again, I learned the dancer-turned-counselor was one of the designated therapists that I could see at the outreach center.

I was mortified to have her see how my family’s world had been destroyed by The Death Star. We had been equals once – or rather, she had relied upon my music to carry her renowned beauty.

I could not hide the devastation I felt from her at how things had turned against me.

I hated feeling victimized by another’s choices after having cared for and trusted in the good of his humanity.

I remembered these moments just now while laying in bed with a heating pad trying to counter a gnarly shoulder spasm.

My life has been colorful at times, filled with wonderful moments of joy and gaiety – especially through music and performance get-togethers.

But there was always a price paid being with someone who could not/would not trust while loving me.

I thought I was supposed to stay with him, to teach him by example that life could be wonderful to live as we give to each other.

Eventually he could do this – if he started out fresh with a new partner. I guess the associations had to be swept clean for him to embrace this.

“Pay It Forward” seems to be life’s main theme shown to me, so I will just keep dodging and weaving.

It has become a way of survival to stay on the edge of things, make cameos – and then, just disappear again into the surrounding scenery.

Three projects that could bring in income keep getting put off.

What use are these blocks to functionality that I keep encountering?

How heavy my load must have been to arrive at such impass!

When one is around naysayers, potential is not safe to quest for openly.

When one is alone in reflection, potential can elude identifying.

Looking at the world and deciding where one would like to contribute can help form a plan.

As age and experience set in, Protectors move slower with more assurity.

For most of my life, I have pursued the tenets of and aspired for the greatest love.

What has this afforded me?

Emptiness and solitude, except by how it has shaped my beautiful being.

Perhaps now it is time to ignore my half of a century’s craving and to pretend as if it is something that I do not need.

The bright pink hole left by the removed straw through heavily whipped cream on top of the double-blended Pink Drink (TM) beckoned my desire to mix more strawberry into the rich decadence.

Did I mention that my dog barfed onto my gym bag? It’s back to Walmart bags for me!

It did not bother me so much at this stage in my life that he was younger than me, for he was much closer to my age than my fiance had been.

It did not matter to me so much that he was richer than me, for riches may be defined by attributes beyond money – of which I have plenty.

No, the crush came from there being too many unknowns, and by not knowing what they were, I felt pressured to overcompensate in absence of his guidance.

Despite desires to be other and contrary to extended efforts, I must acknowledge my body type has shifted to dense manifestation.

I have gained 40 pounds over time from my usual steady 146, while my focus has been to draw it all in for more of a sustaining powerkick.

It can more readily be seen why ascribing to media hype and pining for my own acquisition of leanness has “weighed” so heavily (har har!) upon me.

I have rarely come close to the physical form’s expression that I desire – mainly due to the struggle for consistency during repeated periods of disruption.

The product of my efforts is that I am built solid to lift furniture and wield sword and shield in my family’s favor.

I joked once with a client, “Hulga is pleased to work with you” – this being a relationship where we enjoy laughter, and due to on this day he had asked me to push into his pain, directly.

But I am not bulk-blocky – just core dense, with long legs and capable arms and the curving shoulder carriage that graces any mother and caregiver.

I am no string-bean waif running around, invested in makeup and hair products while tossing chest and rump about to elicit capture of a latest mating prize.

Who funds these parodies, anyway?

What they have attained requires a severe lack of responsibility – or at least a steady influx of external guidance, coddeling, and financial stability.

I had sought to obtain coaching from a body building professional, but made the mistake of walking into one gym where the owner manipulated my inclusive affability into making his wife jealous.

I think it is safe to say I am now barred from that gym’s entry – after his wife in no uncertain terms literally bared her teeth at me.

I did not want to be formed into a tankerous powerlifter, anyway.

I then tried another coach with good ideas, but the exercises that she suggested reactivated old injuries to where my quads and anterior hip attachments are always seizing, and their fibers pain-screaming at me with nearly every step I take these days.

Luckily, I have a hip specialist working with me and cupping is slowly unwinding these micro stuck-on-bone fiber torsions.

It has not been fun feeling like I am becoming a youth zombie.

“No paaaiiinnnn….give me no paaaaiiinnn…” is becoming my mantra’s theme.

When has it been acceptable to be more than scattered pieces, reliant upon taking turns while hiding the paused bits from scrutiny?

This has been a harsh journey through a brash world governed by the uncaring and unfeeling.

Matrimony and engagement have exemplified viral infectionism of such trendings.

Therefore, perhaps it is better to remain separate from others to regain and retain individualism.

At what point did the spirit take control, pulling unwilling body and mind forward?

Then once obtained destination, how may the three reunify, blending into cooperative cohesion?

Is it safe for spirit to yield its independence back into the collective when body and mind were propelled reluctantly?

How can spirit maintain its continued objectivity if it remelds with previously biased synapses?

Will this reunion stabilize body and mind while allowing spirit to obtain the support it has besn missing?

For spirit had the job of pragmatic pioneering.