Category: Stream of Thought

The emotions prodded her jarringly to say mean things – to lash out in fear, pain, and horror at the injustice and inhumanity – but instead, she kept fighting for control to remain silent so that she could just get everything managed in time for leaving.

I may have found a place where I can store the plants, just in time for our final phase of moveout.

Cold, light yellow plums bursting with sweet juice and an oh-so-sour skin straight from the tree, and my youngling’s fabulous, lovingly-tended-to-perfection pecan-blueberry coffee cake.

Last minute thrift seeking for final things we need, I happened by a scarf rack and was drawn to the beauty of some of what they displayed.

Then, upon acknowledging that I very much liked one in particular, I realized that it had been mine – accidentally thrown by haste into the donation box I had dropped off – and repurchased it!

I had a cute end to a dream which had me silly-chuckling out loud from my sleep into the reality outside my dreaming that the reason we don’t often see Superman behind the scenes is that sometimes his body contortion to get flying is off-sync, and he is floating in mid air just flagellate-inch-worming while trying to get his powerful muscles coordinated. Watching this and laughing would not be PC.

Having let the pup loose, she now paces, whining, and coming into my room has turned on the sensor lamp temporarily placed on the floor from zero to three levels of brightness with her nose.

A new earring popped free and disappeared while unloading; my new phone fell flat onto hard concrete, cracking the safety screen; and final packing/cleaning details are left up to me as my youngling’s foot is incapacitoried.

Doo-doo dee dee.dee.dee!

When cultivating a dream, one cannot always focus upon and chase money, especially when dealing with life-altering emergencies.

And yet, it would be nice if one could count on the followthrough of others.

I guess being let down just blares more loudly when one is hanging on by a thread.

Order is temporary illusion.

My youngling breaks their toe.

Should I just give up?

Lol.

I have decided today that I shall go through my beautiful fabrics and give them all away except for one costume that I could wear to an event like a Ren Faire.

I will also lovingoy gather the gifts my ex-fiance’s mother gave me and donate them to the masjid, as well as the extra versions of Qu’ran – except the one she gave me, and the lovely booklet on Muhammad my ex-fiance gave me.

I can no longer carry the burdens of a past that I cannot reclaim, nor that no longer claims me.

I tried going to the masjid to pray again today because in the women’s chamber, alone, I find communion.

I am a hybrid and do not follow any one religion’s full traditions. They all seem distorted to me.

I just want to get into that cool sanctuary when no one lingers and feel what I feel when I have God with me.

I can’t find this sense in a Christian church because those crowding minds keep the truth from me.

In Islam, a primary belief is one’s having a direct link to God without having to go through a priest, which makes sense and appeals to me.

But to have the code to the door, you must believe as they believe.

And God follows me like a shadow.

I have a lot of fear of the unknown. Well, with regards to how to function without housing stability.

I do not like being dependent upon the kindness of strangers. I know my willingness to invest in them, but not their willingness to invest in me.

If I am unique in that I usually go above and beyond, what hope can I have that I will find even matching in my community?

Not to say I am different or better, but I do not like being cast out with the ragged homeless and mental-emotional instabilities.

Exactly how am I to maintain my poise and confidence with the crazy raging all around me?

A side effect is extreme insecurity – and anger rising in an attempt to preserve any sense of safety.

She tried speaking with him by connecting with his mind, but kept encountering her own internalized defense reactions.

A couple of hours relearning patience and the art of inquiry, including respecting my own time needed to process, for under $10 I learned how to replace my bike’s brakes and brake cables – then went on my first ride in over four years, met some lovely community neighbors, and found a rental lead!

I don’t know what the “real” answer is.

I just know that for me, seeing all of those amazing wasps crammed into the kill traps and packed tight in their death struggles seemed wrong and full of blatant cruelty.

The kind of logic that has lead humans to this point of “us against them” mentality is outdated and should no longer be propagated.

Maybe we were the exception, but once we moved onto that mountain, I asked Nature to let us find a way to live harmoniously – and She agreed.

This morning, my youngling could no longer take the workment pounding overhead immedately at 8am, so I let them sleep in my bed.

It is difficult to not throw a fit every time plans do not progress how I have arranged them. Youngling in my bed means that I am not packing and moving items into the truck. But, I must be their buffer so they are rested for helping this evening.

Therefore, I took the dogs out for a dragging-me-snuffle morning walk while I at last sorted through and cleared my voicemails, thereby making room for more returns on resource searching.

I have found a place that for a chunky price will clean the entire interior of my reclaimed car and blast its internals with several hours of its fans running while circulating ozone. It has needed a good mountain mildew spore “nuking from orbit.”

After I work on the one client I made exception to help on my day off because she will be leaving the country to return to her homeland, I will take my bike to see if it can be repaired in anticipation for needing its transportation after dropping my car off for cleaning.

I have cancelled personal appointments and am focusing on investing in our animals medical needs and updating records. I also have to get the car at least temporarily registered.

So many pieces are still needed to get moving to their proper places and I have to pause to ensure strength for my clinic’s work allotment.

It takes a ton of patience to not yell at the landlord for her remodeling’s above us timing, as her actions send the message that she just does not care about our needs while leaving.

“Keeping within legalities” is still “less than human.”

I am trying to find curiosity rather than bias in seeing it she returns our deposit, or if she decides to find reason to not return it – such as (as other landlords have done) using it to fund her delayed maintenance.

It must be enough that my efforts have helped to bring us this far – even though the results do not seem equivalent.

For creative rights to design one’s life there is little compensation but each step we carve out leading to another, helping hands along the way if we are lucky, and likely a lonely vista once we get there because those of us who try are scattered and rare.

“I don’t want to be like that.”

“You’re not like that. You are fighting every day and pouring everything into making sure your family stays off of the streets.”

I must view the woman as being accountable, rather than taking the blame as my own. I did all I could and more to ensure that we had a home.

Yes, I needed to be able to depend on her. Like it or not, this is a service landlords are charged to provide by default of their position in our economy.

However, they look at their properties as money makers for their own ends – and ignore the responsibility for other people’s lives having stability in exchange that’s held within their hands.

As an adult attempting to provide for my family, it is difficult to repeatedly experience what we should have gained being dropped.

Because she had learned that good communication and building friendly rapport was essential to having good relationship, she extended a little caring to their landlord – and encountered deep resentment.

As we gear up for the separation of our family’s unit, I know we are at the whims of The Fates, again. At this point, I ask myself how am I ever to feel that I can stand on solid ground – when the consistency remains a constant shifting?

Devastation, infatuation / appreciation, saturation: if not looking, I find you; if sought, I lose.

Currency for survival.

How does one regain it while their Maslow’s keeps getting erased?

She had just finished the first wave of taking apart the dog’s yard and releveling to make it nice and happened to be relocking the slider door when she noticed the landlord walking across her backyard area with a clipboard, scrutinizing her progress and items ready for packing while noting and/or checking off on paper.

The landlord had not given 24 hours notice, nor announced she and her workers would be all over their unit’s property nearly every day working on the upstairs unit for the last four weeks.

They had not been notified of post repairs for the base of the balcony above them just outside their window – with the old post now just left there hanging. And a desk had been left on their front porch the entire time, while dust and noise pollution infiltrated their unit through their side door.

Letting myself take the night off is tantamount to sin.

I work out at low weights to realign core balance stabilizer muscles to reinforce and ensure ability’s strength.

Lately when she went to workout, the sorcerer’s thrall attempted to lay claim to her aware consciousness. She asked Source to help purge his infatuous influence, and for God to severe attachments, unsure when all of this had begun and grateful for the help in removing this psychic parasitism.

Release the attachment to/of psychological and emotional burdens society ascribes to?

What I planned would happen was different from how things were actually proceeding, so I retained the truck to keep personal maneuvering.

I’m not going to keep playing this game of “Wait” and dead ends…

Having cleaned out the truck and strategized leaving my car at the shop and walking back to get the truck ONCE for efficiency’s self preservation, upon returning to the truck I discovered that its key was no longer in my pocket!

I am not perfect.

I makes mistakes.

But, I try to amend them.

I cannot simultaneously attend every moving component, which is resulting in our leaving before we know where we are going.

“I am not just another moth to your flame.”

It is more difficult to move out of a place than into a new one. This goes for homes, paradigms – etc.

When I first heard “Seas Of Cheese” in early 1990’s, that was when we lived on the upper story of tbe Biddle House, where the tiny fluff, perfectly designed flame-shaped owl feather floated into my open-to-palm-tree-window, and I was sewing our union’s first Ren clothing and patchwork, finely innerlined capes.

Fascinated by the album’s auditory and cover concept art, I wondered how Primus had developed to that point, and how and in what ways I could follow after in expressing my own prospective creative ingenuities.

Her strategy up until 2011 had been to navigate around the crazy. Since “The Fall,” it was as if an unseen force kept pulling her forward, straight through it. She hoped this meant she was on a shortcut to greater gains and positive influences.

Where others weave entrapments, I seek to be released from their entanglements – stretching to fly on new wings.

She was on a mission. It just had not defined its purpose to her in coherent, strategic revelation.

Given warning, all she could do was keep trying and watch the slide-downward-effect increase its slant as time accelerated to culminate in their launch into the Unknown’s abyss.

“If I’m gonna die on the streets, I’ll do it my way.”

I will not descend to emotional games other people play. They are wasteful, outdated, and turn blue skies to gray.

She just wanted to blast, “Stay away from me – and get off of my property!” To the landlord’s continuous gay frolicking outside with the workmen as they spread their mess and noise above and all around her in the final days that her family had.

Because “forgiveness” in Christianity is often paired with “turning the other cheek” (so you get smacked again), I do not necessarily forgive – but, I acknowledge.

It helps that I am taking things into my own hands and getting us out of other peoples’toxic, fear-based paradigms.