Sunday, January 25, 2015

Mr. Lion (pt. 2)

So, just wrote the other day about my new friend, Mr. Lion.

Tell me why my Mom & Dad got me this card for my birthday today:



I asked my mom, "What made you get this card for me?"

She shrugged and said, "No clue. Just felt right."

I said it once, I'll say it again - there are no coincidences! 

This is a message. A sign. A, "Hello." 

I see you, Mr. Lion. 

Not sure what this means, but... I see you.  

XO

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Mr. Lion

So, I meditate as often as I feel like it. Which, honestly, isn't as much as I probably should.

But, I listen to intuition and my intuition told me the other day, "Meditate."

Sometimes, my intuition gives me what I can only describe as 'a craving'. I just have to. And I can't stop thinking about it.

So, I meditated. One of the most powerful meditations I've ever done. For the new moon, I did this one:


I haven't ever really seen anything profound in meditation, until then.

When she took me thru the animal totem thing, all of a sudden I had a flash of a lion. 

A huge, insanely powerful lion that was so gentle and kind.

At first I remember being kind of freaked out because:

A) Holy shit it's a Lion. 
B) I've never seen really anything in meditation before.
C) Can I keep him?
D) It felt kind of like a dream, which was odd because I wasn't asleep.
E) ...wtf is going on?

So I walked over to him, got super close and I put my hands on the side of his HUGE head. 

He bowed his head, and put his forehead to mine, just like this:


I felt him say, all at the same time, on the same wave of energy, "It's nice to finally meet you. I'll never let anything happen to you. I'm always here. I love you. If I have to, I will die for you." 

I feel like my two cats that have passed away, their spirits were mingling with his, too. 

Just, odd. Weirdness. But extremely fucking awesome.

Of course it would be a big ass cat. God damn right. Knew I loved cats for a reason, bitches!

Here's a website I found all about it. Had to look it up and see what it all means:


His official name is Mr. Lion.

I love you, Mr. Lion. Hope to see you again soon! 

(I would like to snuggle with you, Mr. Lion. Putting all my cards on the table.)

XO

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Marilyn, being an actor, & walking in Faith.

I'd never been a particularly big fan of Marilyn Monroe's. She was someone I looked to, I suppose you could say, as a sort of 'comparison'. 

One of the only women I found, and knew, early on, looked like me. Body type, anyways. That has not been surgically altered. Natural. 

I think all young girls look to other women for body comparisons. That's normal amongst females. We have questions and concerns about the boobs we have and are growing, the hips we're getting, the new and usually scary/unwanted attention because of it.

I saw her and remember being somewhat calmed. There was someone famous, an actress, like I always dreamt of being, who had my body type.

Especially when I would hear from industry professionals, "No one will ever take you seriously with a body like that." Or, "The type you can go for isn't the insightful type... I'll put it that way."

As I look back now at her work, I realize that no, she wasn't overtly sexually objectified. Not comparing now to then anyways. 

But, in almost every interview she wasn't questioned about the same things the men were questioned about. It was usually about how she was a sex symbol. Or her marriage. Or her beauty. Or, whatever. 

I believe that, coupled with her difficult childhood, and the normal pressures of Hollywood (even then), plus her desire to be a 'good actress', only being really known and asked about her looks and sexuality, being typed into the 'looks & sexuality' box she accidentally (or was led to) created for herself, then feeling lost and upset and having wanting children and marriage and failures and addiction and blah blah... Well... Death.

Accidental death.

She's since accepted it. Or, I haven't seen any traces of regret. Just a sadness. A kind of upset about it all that she sometimes shows, sometimes doesn't. 

I feel that maybe she showed herself to me and introduced herself to me because of the potential similarities (or very real similarities) we could have had in common. Some stated above. 

When I first met her, she was shooting something in a hotel lobby. She was so sad and broken, and that was the only time I saw her 'under the influence'. I've typed about it before somewhere, you can track back.

It was quite awhile until I saw her happy. When I lived in California, I would go pay my respects every so often. Energetically, I felt her show up a couple times. Then, almost every time. Maybe from there she got to know me better, I don't know.

It was really interesting. Still is. When I visit her 'resting place', I can feel her. As it got clearer to me, it always felt like she was waiting for a friend. She wants, more than anything, to - I guess - sit with someone who understands and talk it out over coffee. So to speak. 

Eventually, I got, "Hi Honey!" And then, she would pop up and around randomly. 

Lucy allows her to, of course. She knows she is very loving and protective. Especially since Marilyn and I have/could have walked similar paths. I'm a recovered addict, a young woman, working in Hollywood. None of them want me to make any of the mistakes they did, and of course, for that, I am eternally grateful.

And I take heed. 

I don't really want to 'make it' or 'be famous' or 'well known' in the typical, generic way most do now-a-days, anyway. Do I love acting? Yes. Writing films? Yes. Putting an entire production together from the ground up? Yes. Marketing? Yes. So on. 

Yes, I would love to do a show or film for fun. I love it. Guest spot or whatever - but, I don't have that luxury yet. I'm not 'supported' by anyone (related to/dating/friends with/sleeping with) that could and would cast me. Furthermore, the only things I had got offered to me or called to audition for were very 'slutty'/'other woman' type characters that I turned down. 

Or, the slashers where they wanted me running topless thru the woods. Clearly, turned those down too.

I got so fed up with all of those that I walked away, and I'm glad I did. I figured so much out about myself.

Including the fact that what is commonplace for any actor, famous or not, in Hollywood isn't necessarily something I want to be. 

I will not sell my soul for it.

I've sat at the table for multiple business meetings that turned into 'telling tales of Hollywood'. Big shot, big name people telling - openly - all the 'celebrity' friends they have/know, and how they got where they are. 

If you only knew. 

And what's worse is that regardless how much money they're making, how many Oscars or whatever they've won, they're belittled - laughed at - made fun of behind their backs. 

I can't tell you how many times I was sitting at dinner with an agent/actor/producer/writer/group of developers/director/etc, and heard/was told some of the nastiest/meanest/horrible things about people I don't even know. Casually. 

A couple times, I knew I had the, "What the fuck?" expression on my face when someone said to me, "It's just the business, hon." Or my favorite, "Welcome to Hollywood, baby!" (Yes. That has really been said to me. Not just for the movies.)

I can't condone that. I can't participate in that. I can't associate with that. I don't care who they are. 

So, I walked away. 

But my passions, my dreams, the fire is still on my soul. I'm just trusting the world, my angels, Goddess, higher powers to situate my life for it. 

I believe it will still happen for me, and I won't have to sacrifice myself. Or anyone else. I do believe that, in my being. Which is why I try to create, and be a beacon of light for others who feel as I do about it all. Who have seen the things I've seen. Experienced what I have and walked away also. 

However it lines up, I'm walking in immense faith that it will line up. Spinning my wheels hasn't gotten me far - just broken down emotionally, and questioning my entire purpose here on earth.

So - 

I'm glad the door is open. I welcome their knowledge and advice. I'd be stupid to not listen to it. 

That, and I'm not actively living my days growing intuition and taking chances for nothing. That's what the purpose of it all is. Connection to the 'all' that spirit, all of them, are a part of.

I've been feeling Marilyn around a lot lately. I think it's related to a project I've been invited to, collaborate - I'll say, on. She feels passionately about it. Or at least very interested. Wanting it to succeed. For many reasons.

As I've said many times, mediums have told me I have access to many - many 'celebrities' that have passed on. The ones who chose to help. I can call on them, ask a question, and listen/meditate/sleep on it/look/feel for the answer. 

As can anyone, really. And if anyone in the industry is reading this, and you are a solid - do gooder - who is looking for reassurance and some guidance/navigation in this seemingly overwhelmingly negative/pressured/image-conscious/body-negative/soul crushing industry... I recommend it. 

I do that with many of them. 

Well, the ones I've met or been introduced to anyways. They're just like you and me, and should be treated as such. They're the purest essence of humanity, really. We are all spirit. A soul. Energy and radiant beings. As we know, every thought and energy has a frequency. Energy is real, and tangible. Most of us just can't see it as we live life as humans.

Just as they, in spirit, can't be seen.

I don't demand things. Presence or help. Unless, it's Lucy and I'm feeling super low and pretty desperate. She's the only person I feel comfortable enough with and know well enough to do that. 

I also know she won't be mad or be offended. She'll give me a talking to, or scold me for something, but will do it all in love. Even if, at the time, it doesn't feel that loving. She's a tough cookie, believe me. 

I blog about this/them quite often, don't I? *shrug* It/they are really important to me. I don't have really anyone I talk to about that piece of my life, so - I put it here. For someone else who lives the same experiences to find comfort in, and for me to look back on when I doubt or disbelieve myself. Above all, because for me, sometimes, interaction with them is hardest to remember.

....aaaaand it's gone.

Not sure what energy was propelling me to write this, probably hers. It's, literally, completely, rushed out of the room.

*le'shrug*

Feels very odd when that happens.

....Nope, it's not coming back. 

I'll dive into this script editing that I need to finish. Let me just say, I hate when there's some huge issue in the news (or an issue one believes is huge enough) that makes an entire production need to shift gears down to the very script to 'fix it' because they don't wanna risk shooting/continuing to shoot/release what they had written with what's happened or went on.

Money and time down the drain, but work for me! *wink* 

Mmkay, well... Till next time! 

XO

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Thank you, ladies.

I am SO MAD at myself. I always think I've got some superior brain capacity that will let me remember something just as clearly the next day as it did in the moment.

...I wonder how much of this 'April talks to dead people' stuff will keep me from jobs? Or, how, one day, it'll be scrutinized and repetitively questioned and spoke about?

*shrug*

Don't give a fuck!

So, last night, as I was laying down about to go to sleep, I saw myself standing in front of Marilyn Monroe's grave thing. In the wall.

It was dusk. Kinda dark. No one was around. 

Then, I saw her walk up toward me from the right.

She was wearing a black dress, hair all curled up. I googled this to show you - this is pretty much exactly what she looked like. Only it was almost a sleeveless or just shoulder-covering sleeved dress. Not as low cut. Almost boxy:


She had that same big smile on her face, and walked right in front of me. Standing to the right of her name plate. She said, "Hi honey!"

"Hey Marilyn. What are you doing here?"

"When are you coming back to see me?"

She has always been a very, I don't know how to say it... Needy? Person? I don't know what residual energy/emotional place of hers I have always gotten, but it's always kind of sad yet excited and anxious for a friend. 

"Soon. Why aren't you at your house?"

From what I understand, or did in that moment anyways, they don't always spend time where they're buried. 

She laughed, "Because I'm here, silly."

For some reason, I lifted my left hand to place it on the slab of whatever it is that has her name on it.

"I'm not in there, honey."

I gave her a weird look, "Excuse me?"

I heard Lucy laugh. Loud. To my right. I didn't look for her, tho. She was just there in full stereo.

Marilyn laughed, too. "I'm here!" She gestured to herself.

I still didn't get it, but let it go. "Right..."

And I'm punching myself in the face because that's where it goes fuzzy. I know I remembered it in the moment. I KNOW I did. 

I even remember thinking, "Wait, April, what's going on? Are you imagining this?"

Then I heard Lucy say, "Oh stop that! For God sakes."

I remember Marilyn mentioning something about someone that I won't say here, and I had to tell her - again - it's not that easy for me to honestly contact whoever. She really doesn't get that.

She thinks as easily as she can come talk to me, that I can go talk to anyone I please. 

Or anyone she suggests. Or anywhere she wants me to go.

Like the last time I drove up to the actual house she had once lived in and wanted me to come inside. 

Can't just do that.

I remember Lucy telling Marilyn to, "Let the kid figure it out on her own." Then something to the extent of, "Time will tell."

UGH! So mad! 

What I deduct is that they support my choices right now. If I'm correct in my assumptions by the patterns thus far, they seem to repetitively show themselves in many, many ways when they're trying to kind of tell me, "Yes. There it is. Keep going!"

I've got a couple potential projects lined up outside of the company so far that are wonderful and positive, so that's probably it.

I'm really excited about them. Right now, they're in the stages of back and forth planning and potential meet ups and things - but all very exciting and positive.

One specifically I believe Marilyn is very passionate about, too. Which is probably why she decided to sneak in. 

Lucy, always being my 'spiritual manager', of course, had to be present also. She's the one that had to further explain to Marilyn before that we can't just walk into a home she previously owned.

And, of course, today, I've been seeing random Marilyn and Lucy things everywhere. In an unusual abundance.

*shrug* 

It's how we work best, I suppose.

It's a good year so far!

Thank you, Ladies. I love you.

Friday, January 9, 2015

Anorexia

I've never hated the world we live in, the industry I work in, the people in it, the media, the movies, the television - all of it - as much as I do now.

I am watching my friend fucking die right in front of me. 

Anorexia is killing her.

& I don't give a fuck what anyone says... If there were no 3 pound models, and magazines with 300 'diet tips', and this and that and, "How much do you weigh?" Throws at every celebrity, and images picking people apart for body parts... I don't believe this would be that big of an issue.

In the 50s, the huge thing was people trying to pack on the pounds. 


Now, we have a 'plus sized' model for the douche fucks at Calvin Klein, I think, who is smaller than me.

I can't take it. I can't.


It makes me want to work for this industry even LESS. Be a part of that shit machine? No thanks. 

So thankful I'm doing my own thing.

But honestly..

..my friend is dying.

I saw her today, and she has dropped 30+ lbs since I saw her a month ago. She is sick, frail, can't eat, can barely move. 

It took everything in me to smile and lift her spirits instead of cry and beg and plead with her for her life.

She visits pro-Ana websites. Sickening. I can't even believe that shit exists.

Kyle went to pro-suicide websites before he killed himself. 

I just... Can't.

She battled this before, when we were in college. I remember walking her across the street and telling her, "You eat this willingly, or I shove it down your throat."

She realized very quickly that I do not make empty threats, & ate. 

In time, being there every day with her and all that, she recovered. She met a man who wasn't abusive (she spent years in an abusive relationship. Physically abusive), and was positive and happy.

Until awhile ago when she got a treadmill. I told her to stay away from it, to send it back... Nope.

Now this happened.

She let me take her to dinner tonight, and we just talked. For hours. 

It's always been the highest honor to me when someone says, "I would never talk to anyone else about this but you." And she did. Several times.

I am free to speak, she said, "April, I know you. You're, I think, the only person who never offends me."

I told her, "Please give me something to kill."

"...What?"

"Please. Please give me something to kill. I can't watch you die. I can't. I want to rip that disorder out of your body and murder it. Slit it's throat right in front of you."

She laughed. 

"I want to fight this so bad for you. I know I can kick its ass. I wish I could jump in your body and fight you to recovery."

She looked down, and said softly, "I know."

She's soft spoken, always has been. Very shy and kind and polite. She's not me. She's not loud and vulgar and crass and willing to break faces if she had to.

I feel like I should be protecting her. I should be doing something. I should be kicking it's ass for her.

And I want to. Because she's my friend. One of the closest friends I've ever had. Because I love her, and because the friends that you love should never be fighting alone. You should always join that fight, and battle beside them.

But I can't.

I can't, and that kills me.

It kills me that she's slowly killing herself.

This is the hardest.

Watching people die.

*sigh*

She's beautiful, and perfect the way she is. Growing up on a society that tells you you're not, with a boyfriend who told her she wasn't, and a family that isn't bad but ignorant... She's meant to be so much, to continue. To live.

It's so hard knowing that I can't do a damn thing about it.

I'm a fighter. I like to think I'm a lover and a fighter, but I am a fighter. I fight for myself, but most passionately I fight for other people. My friends. The people I love. 

...and I can't fight this. 

I hate the media. I hate all of it that isn't body positive or self-aware. 

I hate it all, because it's taking someone close to me. 

Because I'm watching a beautiful, funny, talented woman die right in front of me because it told her over and over again that she wasn't enough.

I can't stand the sick society that supports eating disorders. 

I can't understand how every model looks malnourished and half dead, and photos are airbrushed like crazy and photos are photoshopped beyond recognition, and companies dig huge chunks out of our self esteem and use celebrities to endorse it the whole time just so we buy their products...

...yet, self injury - a razor being dragged across skin - cutting - isn't a form of suicide in most cases. It's an alternative. Yet, it's bashed and forbidden. 

Last time I checked, if you really wanna get technical and real here folks, me slicing up my arm with a steak knife won't kill me. Yet, my friend being severly underweight to look like everything that ever said she was unworthy can kill her in a month. 

I have self injured for 10+ years, and it didn't shut any of my organs down.

Then again, there's no models on the covers of anything sporting fresh SI wounds. Because, ya know, gatta draw the line somewhere. 

#SorryNotSorry

& MY FUCKING 12 YEAR OLD COUSIN IS SKIPPING MEALS! I had to tell on her to her parents, and had her sending me videos of her eating for the last couple weeks.

I. Am. Done. 

Someone better give me something to fight... And right now, it's looking like the only thing I can fight is the media. The cause of all this bullshit. 

Go watch the film 'Miss Representation', it's on Netflix. For a small taste. 

I swear to GOD - I will fight this for her the only way I know how. With her, extensively, privately... & with my work. What I do. 

My views and opinions don't really fit into some main stream mould, so... In due time.

She said, "I'm scared."

"Why?"

"This time is different."

"How?"

"I've never been this serious about it before. I mean, I see spots when I wake up. Or stand. I have no energy for things. My nails are turning blue... But I can't stop."

Fuck. This. Shit.

You won't take another one from me, world. 

Most importantly, I won't sit back and allow the over saturated and unreal images of 'perfection' leak into another persons brain and destroy their lives like it has hers.



I'm doing what I can.

I just wish I could do more. 

...because if anorexia was a person, I would Dexter the fuck out of them. No lie, no bullshit.

It's lucky it's not human. No one tries to kill my people and gets away with it. 

I know she reads my blogs and watches my videos and all that... 

So boo, listen to me:

I already told you this tonight, all of it. Everything that is above. You already know I am here for you. 24/7, 365. 12p, 4a. No questions. Ever. I will do anything you need me to, be anywhere you need me to be. 

I mean what I said when I said I can't lose you. Selfish, yes, but honest. We don't have many friends, and it goes without saying how much we mean to each other. We fought thru your SI, we kicked ED before. Please, have the strength and love for yourself to do it again.

Tell me what makes it easier, and I'll do it. Say it. Whatever. Just please, love yourself. Please, please choose life.

Stop visiting all those God damn Pro-Ana sites. I swear to God... I will punch you in the fucking throat... At LEAST stop going to those! 

You're one of my best friends. I love you.

Please, don't leave me. 

Please. 

You have to start this fight for me to be able to fight with you. 

It's hard. You know that. But it's not impossible. 

You can do this. You know it. I've seen you do it before.

Disorders, diseases, can be tricky motherfuckers. I specialize in tricky motherfuckers.

Just say go - and I'm here. Whatever you need. 

Just please... Choose life. 

Choose to fight this.

I know I can't make you. No one can.

But please consider it. Please seriously examine the benefits of saving yourself. 

Because if you end up in a hospital bed... Unable to move, do anything... I will spend every single day, every single second beside you. Making you hate me.

And I'll do it on purpose. 

You know I will.

I will spend glorious hours torturing you to make sure you equate winding up in the hospital from ED to extreme displeasure, therefore making you want to do everything to keep yourself away from that situation. Forever.

I'll fucking do it. Already planning for the worst case scenario. 

& you know - you KNOW how the 'other side' works. You'll just have to come back and fight this again. In another body, with a different name. 

But I like your name, and your body is just perfect as it is normally. 

So please, choose life.

PLEASE. Please. Please. 


----


Sunday, January 4, 2015

Humanity: the game, & the 'talking stick'.

Optimism is difficult sometimes.

Sometimes.

Depending how negative you are in the first place, anyways.

Sometimes, it's really hard to force yourself to see the light and happiness in things. It's even harder, sometimes, to believe that your life is grand and amazing and the future holds endless positive possibilities. 

Truth? 

Life is a game.

It really fucking is.

You play a game with yourself sometimes to be happy. Pull tricks and shit over on yourself to sustain happiness. 

You find ways to 'break open' your soul - to trust intuition - to take chances. All to enrich your life.

So you play games with yourself to find happiness. Find the ways to get it - so on, blah blah.

Life sucks.

I mean I dislike being a human being more often than most.

Relationships and emotions are complicated and often trivial. I have a very difficult time understanding what most people's definitions of 'love ' is. Organs and the ways they work are fairly interesting, while the tedious task of peeing several times a day is boring. Having to shower is boring. Shaving is irritating. Bleeding to death and being in mind numbing pain once a month, every month, until I'm in probably my 50s is fucking irritating. Infuriating, actually.

Watching people live in agony because they're unable to say goodbye to another human who is broken in a different way than them and causing them pain - I don't get it. Watching people continuously commit their entire lives to someone else who they don't really like. Seeing people take salary amounts first and foremost over what makes their soul happy is insanity. 

People living in mansions that are fucking miserable, stuff like that.

I understand healthy walls. I get keeping bad people and bad things out. I even, deeply, understand keeping people away or keeping yourself away from people or things that aren't 'your thing' or something you can grow from and all that. Blah blah, you get it.

I don't get ceasing to exist.

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm - at this moment - a human being. I chose to be born, I chose virtually everything. 

I understand that living here, as a human being, with a name and social security number, comes with certain other things.

Being a human with a name and all that means I am here to learn. As we all are. Living on earth as a human being means that there are certain things we just have to do. It's part of being here, and you just have to do it or you'll come back and do all this shit all over again.

I understand that coincidences are ways of the world helping us out. There are no coincidences - of course - they're direct messages. 

I get there's a million things happening all at once. There's some really, really bad people mixed with more fucking awesome people. There's more awesome people than bad people, but bad people love to flock around hurting people. Make sense? Weak = prey.

Moving along...

...I understand that my human ailments are just that. Human ailments. I'm a human being. I can't escape them completely. I feel emotions, experience pain, loss, hurt, rage, discomfort, boredom, and a thousand other things I fucking hate.

I am afraid of some things. I'm paranoid of some things. I'm not always right, not always wrong. I have goals and dreams that often prove to be the most frustrating fucking things in my world.

But - that's a part of being human.

The biggest part is to not let them own you.

For example:

When people say things that 1,000,000% contradict their body language. Their behavior. Their energy. 

Okay, so maybe I'm one of few people who can realize those things - but really. Pay attention.

Just the other day, I watched someone talk about how happy they were for a solid 5 mins - and they were anything but happy.

They weren't even sad or displeased. They were fucking miserable. 

Yet, everyone around them was blind. And numb to what they were really saying.

They had no trace of an honest genuine smile anywhere on their face. Or their eyes. Or their hand gestures. Or anything. Maybe a forced tug at their lips, that's it. 

They kept their eyes cast down, and only looked up when they assumed eye contact would convince the other person of the lies they were saying. 

I've learned to be quiet and not call those things, tho. People don't usually appreciate it, and it doesn't ever seem to help. 

But of course, against my better judgement, I approached her later. 

"Hey."

"You okay?"

Sharp offended glance at me. "I'm fine."

"You gonna stick with that?"

She ignored me.

I let her know I was there if she needed to talk, and moved along.

Human experiences usually bring on those things. Lying about happiness. It always baffles me when no one else can see it, tho. That's crazy.

It's maddening when no one else calls them on it, either. 

Especially around the holidays. Generally, monumental and normally joyus occasions or events should produce genuine joy. Genuine. Not fake.

I can't help but believe that it's not always some neurological disorder. I can't help but believe that it's usually because that person is as sensitive as I am, and no one else around them is. No one else can see it.

They haven't figured out the tricks to this game of life. Or, they thought they did and either put themselves around bad company, or made some bad decisions thinking they were right and now they're in even deeper emotional and personal do-do because they can't figure out how to fix it. Or believe they can't. 

*sigh* Life.

It took me a long time to be able to openly laugh and joke with strangers. To dance regardless who was watching. 

It's still a process realizing some others just... Can't... Do those things. 

They're where I was at 12. 14. 16. And adults are much, much harder to 'bring into the light' then children.

Adults are usually set in their ways. Their habits. Their waking at 9a and eating breakfast at 10:30a on the dot types of ways. They won't branch out, won't take a chance, so forth. They already think they've got it set up perfectly.

Children are easier. Teens, young adults. They're more able to 'throw caution to the wind' and 'just do it'. Just call, or move, or say what they feel, or walk away, or whatever. They're less fearful of some bigger chain breaking with their weight. They're most bold and rebellious. They welcome the challenge, even if it's scary. 

They're more willing to figure out how to play the game. Doesn't matter why - they've just got the gusto. 

They're way, way less likely to settle for bullshit. They will fight for how they feel - quit school regardless it upsets their parents if it's making them miserable. Ask that person out - regardless they may say no. 

Do that thing that's benefits way outweights the risks. The thing that makes them happiest. 

They have more of a hunger to 'find out'. 

*shrug* Observation.

That's why I think we have more dreamers than ever before. More risk takers. More do'ers. More suicides and violence and good and bad. 

Not because it's all good or all bad - but because people, kids, are walking up to emotions. To energy. To the thousands of things they are that are so beyond human.

They just haven't figured out how to play the game necessarily. How to make it good. How to turn a bad into a good, or how to ask for help, or how to find someone else like them to open up to - or if that someone else exists, and is attainable. If when that someone else shows themselves, they're genuine and good.

Life really is supposed to be about love and joy, not pain and hurt.

People are honestly supposed to be good and help others. Not be violent and evil in any way. 

Genuinely good people are the majority. They've figured out the game, or they're just really good at 'rewiring'. Something like that. You get it.

Bad people, broken people, are just that. Broken. They gave up, somewhere, and let the bad be easy. They forgot where the line was, and that there's reason to fight. Maybe they were never tested, pushed, shown where light was and why it's important.

& of course, everyone has their shadows. Everyone.

It just depends on who you give the 'talking stick' to. 

In elementary school, we all made these 'talking sticks'. They had rice and toothpicks inside them and when you turn them upside down, it sounds like it's raining. Everyone got to make one to take home, but we used one in class so not everyone talked at once.

I remember one time this little piece of shit got the talking stick, and he was just picking on people and complaining and had nothing nice to say at all. I kept thinking, "Take it away. Give it to someone else."

Do the same with your life.

You can either give the power to the dark shadows that maybe represent your past, a bad adult, a pain... You can give the power, your life, the 'talking stick' to them.

Or...

...you can give it to the love, light, happiness. To all your dreams and optimistic ideas. The desire to help others, pay it forward and be your best most joyful self. 

*shrug 2*

Your choice. 

BUT -

Being a human is fucking awesome, too.

Really.

From angles and places you may not realize. You may, may not.

You get to make friends. To see other unique human beings and say, "You. I dig you. Shall we chat and stay in touch and integrate into each other's lives? Possibly for decades?"

You can taste food. Eat. Do tons of things with your mind. Your mind, your brain alone is an awesome part of being human.

Your body is like a machine. You can build a house with it. Women can create human fucking beings in their body. How fucking awesome is that?! 

Human beings are made by other human beings.

You love and cry and hug and sleep. It's crazy. And awesome. All of it. 

You can be the reason other people smile. You can create art, and other human beings have created ways for us to talk to and see each other millions of miles away! 

There are tons of other humans who can legit slice open your chest, grab your beating heart, and fix something wrong with it.

There's schools and classes of other people that train other people how to fucking swallow swords and be a human pretzel or God knows what else. The human body can do it.

Aside from the fact that our bodies do crazy shit. We bleed and poop and so much more. Good, bad, to warm us, to please us, so forth. 

We have eyes and see colors and water and sunsets and first snows and yada yada. We know how to make choices, we know good from bad.. Yep, yada yada. 

We chose to dress our body how we want. Put on clothes that we want for whatever reason. We decorate ourselves with piercings and tattoos by other people who can put jewelry or ink in our flesh. Fucking awesome right? 

You're able to make choices. As bad as shooting drugs into your arm or taking narcotics is, you're able. Fucked up, but you can. You can also detox and recover, too. You can open the door to happiness, or slam it on it. 

We can walk anywhere we wanted, really.  We control how we think and feel, when we know how. We can use our intuition, feel other feels and find energy of others and situations and yada blah blah. 

When we feel things, we cry or scream or whatever. There's a reaction. Tears are undeniable. Rage is, too. But we can also control it all. 

...& so much more. Just let your mind play with how awesome it is to be human. To live in this experience, in this world. 

Go ahead. Think about it. 

Pretty cool, huh? 

Being human isn't easy. It's not. Again, this is the place to learn and grow every day. Learning and growing isn't always pleasent or easy. 

But once you realize that what you did taught you and helped you grow... That's where the beauty, the blessing, is. 

<insert really complicated yet impressive yoga pose that I can't do, & wouldn't even if I could>

Namaste, bitches. 

Thursday, January 1, 2015

"Everything is work, kid."

It seems like all my most 'important' visits come around holidays.

Birthdays, death dates, actual holidays, etc. It took me quite some time to realize that. Never know which ones, never know if it'll be every one without fail - but it's usually right on the money.

That, or I've just forgotten it.

Last night, as I slipped into dreamland, I had a nice peaceful visit. 

Or, I was invited somewhere. Whichever, it was awesome. As always.

I remember looking down at a table. Not sure what kind of material. Maybe an island, maybe a regular table. I feel like it was probably an island.

It was a kitchen. There was the sound of a TV going in the background somewhere, not sure how far away. Water was running, and there was a window to my right.

"Everything is work, kid."

Lucy. 

That was her voice.

I looked around and there she was, maybe 12 steps in front of me in front of a sink. Back to me, red hair in that 'I Love Lucy' do.

It was like she waited a second for me to recognize her, then turned her head to the side - my way. Not looking at me. Still looking at the dishes she was washing. Just enough for me to see the side of her face. 

"Everything."

I said nothing in response. Just sat there, silent. Looking around. I heard footsteps in the background, and thought to myself, 'Where am I?'

Someone answered my thought, in my head, 'Safe.'

Lucy took a deep breath, releasing it as a sigh as she kept talking.

"Do you have any idea how long everything took me? Any idea?"

I still didn't answer.

"A long time. Everything."

I heard footsteps pass behind me. Usually, my natural instinct would be to swirl around. I didn't. I really felt safe. I heard a very inimitable male accent say, "Specially the studio."

Desi?

No time to confirm. He was gone. 

Lucy nodded. "I was scared to death. Absolutely petrified. I couldn't let anyone else see that, but I was."

She moved a huge pot to a drying rack.

"You can't stop working. On work, life, and yourself. It's always hardest before it is worth it."

I find my voice, "I know that."

She chuckled. "Do you?"

Do I?

I sat in silence and thought about that for awhile. Analyzing myself. 

Thoughts are read there. Wherever I was. And she answered them.

"You're one of the hardest working kids out there. Now a days, you're doing exactly what you should. You know this isn't the days of the studio system, you know that."

She moved another pot to the drying rack.

"I wanted you to take time. Relax, realize what you are. Who you are." She shook her head, "People don't don't do that anymore." She sighed, "Didn't like it, but you had to."

"So I was right? That was for a reason?"

She nodded, and smiled, and paused. Again, I could only see her left profile. "Everything is."

She laughed. Short, loud. "I know you know that." 

I laughed too, and put my hands on top of the counter. Then I looked out the window, and realized it was all white. Really white. Like snow, and lights, and sunshine all in one.

Not blinding, not bold. Just bright. Comforting. Safe. 

"You'll have to work really hard."

I looked back at her. 

"You'll be working hard."

I said nothing, just wrote that on a post-it in my brain. Obviously important.

"As hard as you're working on yourself, you'll be working on other things and people. People, too. Don't forget that." She lifted a soapy hand, red finger, and pointed my way. "Do not forget that." 

There was a beat, "You know what you are. Others might not know themselves like you know you. If you get impatient, walk away. If you are frustrated, call back. Do not give up. There will be people that need you to help them. As upset and angry as you get with them, you can't give up. If you want the relationships, it may take lots of time and patience."

She chuckled, "Which I know you have little of."

"Time?"

She lifted her eyes now, blue, rage in them. At me. More pointed a glance than anything. "Patience."

I lifted both hands in a 'surrender', and she turned back to her dishes.

There wasn't a pile of dishes... Where the hell did they keep coming from? A bottomless sink?

"How do I have patience and understanding for what I don't understand?"

"By realizing that they don't understand, either."

We sat, again, in silence. 

I felt the man come up beside me, to my right. He said, "You can do it. Keep believing. You've got it."

Couldn't see him, didn't look to see him. 

I looked to Lucy, "It'll all be okay? Me, everything else?" 

"Don't stop working. Keep working. It'll be hard work, all of it."

I sighed, thought to myself, 'I get it.'

"Of course you will, April."

Now she did turn around. Fully. 

She stared at me, beginning 'I Love Lucy' aged. Her face was set, serious, no playing around. No bullshit. No jokes, no laughs. "I already told you a thousand times... I. Am not. Going. Anywhere."

She looked up suddenly, gave me a soft smile, then nodded and turned back to her dishes.

I looked off in the direction she did, and everything started going white...

...then I woke up in bed to my phone ringing.

*sigh*

Welp... Guess I'm gonna be working? 

I'm sure I'll be coming back to this blog when I feel overloaded and drained - to remind myself of this.

Happy 2015, everyone!