Never Just Yet

Not never expected it. But usually I'm oblivious--

Subway was packed, my dogs barking and tired. Standing beside the clapping doors, with every chime before they closed, my hair would catch with the sweeping breeze. 

side note: wear a mini skirt, more traffic will follow.

Six feet tall. Dark hair. Ruggedly handsome. His vibe not bad. He was the manly kind. They're either manly or they're not. He looked my way more than need be (much more), but given the place we were at...it was, well...it wasn't a good time for any eye contact, at least not the kind that gives a silent invitation. Or perhaps I wasn't ready to share what I was feeling. He was pretty cute and I was feeling less than stellar, not to mention tired.

...I just get nervous when people stare, especially when you don't mind the attention. I can be a classic Chickie-poo when it comes to the woman-man thing. 

Yet on a lighter note, my days are freeing up, which is a gift. Time to write what I haven't been writing. Commit to the next script, or commit script suicide.

Behind The Door

Part 1

As Alice falls down the rabbit hole, thumping and bumping against raggedy edges, her tender flesh scraped and cut on wild twisted roots, she wonders how much farther the drop will be?

After the rocky landing, stars spinning above her crown, pupils rolling like marbles - she grabs her forehead. Words finally stand still.

All is murky and dim. Mr. Cottontail no where in sight. Was it just a terrible dream? One brought on by a deluge of sweets and endless bad TV?

No.

Standing on her feet she begins to walk, following the will in her heart, though fear creeps within a few heartbeats from behind. The only option is the future. The past is already forgotten. Forever.

R.I.P Yesterday.

Ahead a dim light is visible. lt grows brighter with each step. She swallows hard, scared shi*less. She enters a room, vast and endless to the eye.

Beneath a halo of light two doors stand. One is large and ornate, wrapped in gold dust. She sweeps her fingers across the glittery surface. The other is smaller and plain. She sweeps her fingers across that one and gets a splinter. Bloodlets dot the ground.

"Choose Biotch!" they speak aloud.

Alice bites her lip...this may take a moment.

Private Parts

I used to journal, almost every night. Journals remind us of who we are and how far we've come, maybe even how much farther we still have to go.

But I stopped journaling, which sucks.

side note: last time I was in Los Angeles, I was in a coffee shop on Beverly Blvd. I was sipping java, journaling. There was a guy next to me writing on his laptop. We sorta eyed one another - what we were writing. He journals on his laptop. I journal on paper. We swapped some words about it. 

I later realized I was speaking to Dean Deleo. He was nice.

Back to what sucks--

A close family member told me, "yeah, I've read your diary..."

I lost my breath for a moment. I hold many secrets, wants and wishes between those pages. The violation, trust, instantly broken in shards. There's no going back after such thing.

side note: Read it after I'm dead.

So, this is me: a pressure cooker, a lid twisted on too tight, anxious and kinda angry. Pissed from all the crap floating around in my brain, unable to release on the page - a mental melange of sewage. I feel desperate to purge. Don't feel safe to.  

There was no honest apology. No word that it was an accident. No begging for forgiveness. Nada. Just a huff and a haughty comment, "I thought you were reading mine."

My skin crawled. Beyond shocked and appalled. If there's one art I get in spades, it's boundaries and giving people their personal space. Also, I'm not that nosey.

I can shrug most things off, but not this.

Journals/diaries are private. Many parts of my journal/most journals carry secrets that aren't meant for sharing. I'm still in shock, and I learned of this in the Spring.

Who the F reads someones' diary?

The Ugly Truth is...

It's been a while-- I'll try to update.

I'm going through this thing...I don't know what to call it? What I do know is that I don't like it. I feel like a flowing river rushing towards a broken dam, just flowing at the mercy of a strong current/tide (Gods hand)- seeping into places that I never fathomed to go. I've not lost my sanity, yet. 

I did see this handsome stranger, which is rare, so very rare for me. Good looking people are everywhere- the difference is what holds your (my) attention. I feed more off energy and a vibe. Bad vibes make me flee fast, as if running from a virus or toxic stench. Many of my friends are crushing on someone - I don't even have a celeb crush, which is infantile to share, but who do you think about when it gets quiet...I have many quiet/vacant moments without a thought or person crawling across my mind. Hollow, like a coconut.

I have to Up my black wardrobe, which isn't bad. I love black. My new Addams uniform for a time, and only for a time, I hope.

side note: Why are people so sensitive, as if the whole world is out to get them? Don't we leave such childhood feelings in the past, not tossing them in the path for others to trip on.

Insecurities get mucky when we remain too silent. Share the love--

That handsome stranger- he was tall, dark and handsome. Not sure if he was married...did I see a ring? I never look for rings, which causes many of my girlfriends to gasp out loud. I'm horrible at the flirting, look for the ring-thing. I flirt with everyone, without knowing I'm flirting. I laugh easy, it's a problem.

Yesterday on the train, a seventeen year old boy, a child, was giving me the eye. I look younger than I am, but COME ON!!!! A reverse gross-out.

In truth, the last month has been a crushing blow on many levels. A friend assures - Don't worry, the year is almost over. 2012 is two months away.

I replied, "HEY! I only got TWO months to make up for one of the shi**iest years of my life. I'm not giving up!!!"

A lot can happen in 60 days: I could hear from God on something I've been praying about for 20 years (it's big, and worth the wait). I could meet some tall, mature, kind, humble, creative, sexy stranger - My Eagle. I could hear from this agent who has a script I wrote...still waiting...please sign me...insert puppy whimper.

2011 is still a good year! Truth.