Candid Corvid Productions

“I need sod…for my sod garden!”

I have several plastic square bins from the dollar store filled with old containers of prescription medication.

Clearly, I need to sort and properly dispose of them, but such a task is tedious.

And I wonder, how messed up would I have been had I taken them when doctors were blindly troubleshooting my then symptoms?

The little tyke, smaller than the usual irritator, moved by short bursts upon the inside of the window screen, seeking a way to return to its natural course of living.

So while it was stuck between partially slid-open glass and mesh, I carefully removed the screen and released it before it could become frightened and fly back into my bathroom.

When we first met, it felt briefly like kismet – until he said out loud how happy he was that I was a brunette.

Feeling elated, myself, at our chance meeting, I playfully informed him that, in fact, I was a natural blond with blue eyes from California.

Upon hearing this, the door to our proceeding was abruptly barred shut to me because he was afraid of his family teasing him about my origins.

I have seen myself stripped time and again down to just the bare bones of my humanity and have felt so raw, so vulnerable, that I can not fathom how realistically a worthwhile man would be able to step up – let alone would want to better shelter me.

When I am “under assault” again, I think to myself, “I must never let someone be able to get this close to me again,” as my confidence is shattered and hope for a better future is destroyed.

Being a parent and healer puts me in a constant position of careful recalibration where it is never fully a relax-and-let-go situation.

Thinking that I could find a partner to “let down my hair with” can seem like pure fantasy when I have not met guys of equal or greater capability.

I had two breakthroughs on my script yesterday, yet I am supposed to hold them close and not share them publicly in order to build their value.

But what glory can they receive as being mere moments captured onto paper, left sitting on a dusting shelf while waiting for their counterparts?

I can reach behind my back on both sides again!

Today we take out the drums again and potentially join a new creative society.

I prefer to avoid being labeled and quantified by a moment’s passing imagery.

Self ownership must be my highest priority.

I have always exhibited and promoted good morality and service to others.

But now, I must claim my entirety.

Language is ever growing and changing according to human needs and understanding.

I have often balked against anyone determined to instruct me differently, being as history supports my theory.