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The last few days have been strange. I've gotten some weird mail in my e-mail.
One that if it's real, which I'm thinking it was a mistake would change things considerably.
Another are the dreams I've been having and the deep sense that things are about to change...kind of like I've been driving up hill for a very long time and am about to hit the top of the mountian and then go on a very long easy road down hill to a very safe place.
It's made me think of many things and many times in the past months where there seemed no light and was no peace.
I can feel this change deep inside, and the circumstances of my life haven't changed all that much.
I got out of a job with a manager who is in need of being replaced, and into a job where everyone including the managers are very decient kind people. They work hard, and enjoy working together.
The only draw back is that it's the night shift and it's had the effect of making my sleep habbits go wonkie.
But other than that not much has changed.
I can feel something is about to change, and it's in my bones...just don't know what it is.
I'm so at peace, and have been for a couple of weeks now and no matter what happens it will be ok.
Kind of like the saying "the best is yet to come"
I think my best is about to explode off the charts, that's how good this feels.
I'm happy way deep inside. That's the part that I find myself pondering, it's like someone injected somekind of at peace drug into my whole brain and it's being released into every cell and every fiber of my being.
It's all going to be better than ok...
wish I knew what was comming.
For someone who learns by reading, immages get in the way.
They understand the in's and out's of a particular language and are able to comprehend what needs to be done.
For someone who learns by visual immages, the reading part gets in the way.
Depending on the amount of activity a person of this type can grasp even the most intricate of activities.
Reading the instructions and trying to turn it into a visual sequence is almost impossible if the activity has not been done before.
I am of the sencond group and have come to the conclusion that the reason I don't comprehend math is because the people who wrote the orignal language of math weren't concious or too concerned about thoes of us who are visual learners.
It's not that I don't want to understand math, but I wish there was some math genius out there who was a visual learner who could teach me in the way that I learn things.
It just frustrates me so completely that I get too angry to listen after the first few words of someone who understands the concepts and they can't understand why I get so pissed off.
It makes me feel like I'm from some other planet where written language is a very small part of the big picture.
And it sucks.
Sometimes it's time to change the view. Sometimes it's time to change the chanel for a while.
And sometimes it's time to pick up the pace and take a leap of faith...
All good things.
My life has been more full and more at peace since I quit my job.
I've been reading and absorbing some really awesome things. My life is unfolding the next chapter.
I think about the last year. Crashing into a black hole and how I walked around feeling like I was dead inside a bag of skin.
I think about what work started out to be and what it ended up as and when it was dead I left.
Actually I stayed about a month longer than I really should have, but I'm so happy it's done now.
I've been looking for work but haven't found any yet, and the road keeps pointing to me opening my own business.
Nothing so strict as to be a certian way, but a business that will draw people, to borrow a line from "Field of Dreams" "If you build it they will come"
I have a feeling it's been waiting for a long time for me to build it.
It's all good.
Even the hard stuff and waiting through things and falling on one's face and looking up and seeing nothing.
I'm ready to go forward.
And I have a deep feelings in my bones that many many people are feeling the need for change too.
Somthing is aching deep in their bones and soul and they are getting more and more uncomfortable where they are...
Yep, it's a good thing.
I've been listening to Tom Waits for the last couple of days, and watched the "Kill Bill" movies as well.
Intersting combination. I've come to the conclusion that I would really love to be able to discribe things like Tom Waits, and have the focus of the woman who kills out of revenge in the movies. Take away the revenge part, and just have the focus part.
I thought about that for a while this morning and decited that I would like to be able to discribe things like Tom Waits but I wouldn't want to be a carbon copy of him.
That happens sometimes when a person comes across another person and their work and it's so inspiring that they begin to try to shape their lives to be just like that person.
It would be wonderful if I could traslate all the momentary flashes of perfection that go floating by, and make them real...take one teaspoon gunpowder and one heaping cup of vision and add water and you have instant thing.
Would be nice, but then I would miss all the cool clods of dirt that end up in my mouth as I go skidding across the highway of life trying to figure out what kind of job suits me.
I would miss all the moments of stress that hit that make me feel so out of control that I want to put some violent music on and beat the walls and anything else standing in my way.
And take all thoes other people who are no different than me and put them on a desert island for a few weeks so they wake up from the hypnoitc state of uniformity that every corporation is trying desperately to stuff every human into from the moment of conception.
I would miss the cliff hanger walks that I take on a regular basis everytime I find myself in no mans land of trying to figure this stuff out.
I would really miss the journey and discoverey that happens, and I really do like that part. The pain is something I could do with out, but then pain is part of life, in one way or another.
Sometimes I wish answers were as easy to come by as making coffee.
But being who I am, they never are. I have learned to look at things and depending on how they go, using them as a way to find out what I'm really suited for to make a living from.
Sometimes a job that doesn't last is just a bridge that you end up on so you can cross a swollen river and not drown.
That's what life feels like when you don't know if there is going to be a next job so you don't end up out on the streets.
So it's back to the drawing board, so to speak. And wandering around the molten bush of life, and all my quirks and weirdness, and off skew views and observations that make me who I am.
I know I hate corporations for how they exploit humans. I love small businesses that are struggling to survive.
And for all that it does and what it really is, money is something that has to enter into the mix, because for some odd reason living by bartering doesn't apeal to landlords and grocery stores and other places of business.
What I really would like is to find some crazy eccentric millionair who loves art and has money to burn and sell them all my art and then do, I don't know what, maybe make more art.
I love art. It's a passion in my blood that makes me go zing alot.
It flows out my eyes and hands, and makes me think about lots and lots of things that could be done with everything from brand new things to garbage.
It makes me want to give everyone cans of paint and let them loose on the whitehouse and tell them paint away and change it from the whitehouse to the house of many colors.
It makes me want to change the colors the millitary wears to kaki shorts and loud hawaiian touristy shirts.
It makes me want to take all the people who are in teaching jobs and give them a new view of life by giving them all the millions of pounds of things that are thrown away in this country and tell them make something new.
But, I don't know where that crazy eccentric millionaire lives, so I guess I'll have to figure out something else.
I just don't know what it is yet. And I wish I did.
Sometimes I wish there was someone I could go to and lay all this stuff out in front of and they would take me by the hand and pat it gently and tell me it's ok, and help me sort through it all, and not try and tell me well if you just do this or just do that and do it my way you'll suceed.
I met someone like that once upon a time. He was dying from cancer. I got to spend a month with this man, and it was one of the best months of my life.
I miss his wisdom. And his fire and his passion about life.
It sucks that I can't go see him now, and even if I could and he would yell at me for what ever because I'd missed some of what he was trying to tell me, that would be ok too.
Because alot of time I feel really alone in life. Even though I live with the coolest people in the world, and I can come here and write about all kinds of things. I still feel very alone.
Even when I pray, I still feel alone.
I used to have this wish. That I would be walking on a beach somewhere and this person would show up out of no where and walk along side me and we would talk, and it would all make sense.
All the reasons that I was created like I was, and all the reasons for the gifts that I've been given. Most all of them can never be translated into something that I could ever find a job with.
And why oh why it seems that the walk of my life means that no one in my life can stay for very long.
I used to pray for such an encounter. I think I got that prayer answered when I got to spend time with that man.
I would like that again now. I'm really in need of that again.
I know alot of people out there in this big wide world feel the exact same way. About different things sometimes, and they never talk about that. Just like they don't talk about death or sex or anything else that makes them seem out there and vunrable.
I think that's not so right. To keep all thoes things tied up inside. Thoes things are what opens the doors to dispair, and depression and sucide.
So I'm willing to talk about them. I'm willing to ask for what I need. I know I'm very strong inside. Most of the time. I have to be. There is no one waiting in the wings to catch me if I fall, and I don't expect there to be anyone there.
I know the people around me care for me, but none of them are able to help me in the way I need help now.
Yep, I miss that man, and wish with all my heart that God would send another person like him into my life and let them stay longer this time. I'm exausted so deep down inside where the well is, and I don't have the strength to go to the river and fill buckets.
Who knows maybe tomorrow I will. Anything is possible. But for today, I don't got it. And I haven't had it for a long time now. All my resources have been used up.
That's about it for today.
I got a phone call last night that one of my uncles died.
It was a strange thing. One more in several years of loosing relatives.
It's going on 10 years now that people who I'm related to have been dying.
It's strange because it's gotten to the point where my new years hope is that this will be a year free of loosing someone that I'm related to.
But each year it happens.
Some have been harder than others. But each has left me thinking about things. And this one is no exception. Time is moving forward and stops for each person when the last page is turned.
We remember and pull the memories from the shelves of our minds and dust off the cobwebs that have settled there and reflect.
But it reminds me that it's important to be real with the people in our lives. To cut through the bullshit because if bullshit is all you share with a person and never get down to where the conversations count, where you actually get to share in the things that matter, when death comes you find that you wish you had.
I've tried to live my life for a long time in the real, instead of living in bullshit.
There is a difference. My uncle was crabby most of his life, but he was honest about how he felt about things, and made no bones about telling anyone what he thought.
I think like alot of people of the generation before mine the deep real things were kept somewhere deep inside.
The things that make your heart go bump in the middle of the day.
And all the dreams you never share with anyone. And like many people of that generation the dreams were different than what dreams are now...
maybe I'm wrong about that. I don't know. But if they were dreamers alot of them never said anything, at least not to the ones comming after them, their children.
I've got lots and lots of memories of this man, and back when I was little and the world looked so huge, like most adults in my life, he was this larger than life person who was bigger than me and there was no point in arguing anything. It would have been disrespectful of me to argue.
Now, here it is years later and the only thing I would like right now is to be able to make it to the funreal. But it's now possilbe.
So I will deal with my memories like everyone else who won't make it. And for months, think about all the people I can't go see and share lunch with, or talk about what ever comes to mind with.
There is just silence now.
All of this seems so unreal. So undone. So like when my father died.
And how weird I felt after.
Where ever he is I hope he's happy now. And at peace inside.
And if he had to fight anything inside, it's all done now.
I will be there at the funreal, even if it is only in my thoughts and prayers. That will have to be enough.
At least for now.