Is

Everything has it’s beauty but not everyone sees it.  – Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol is one of my favorites! He wasn't what you might find as beautiful but he was a man of beauty. Ugly is a word that is a vague cheap insult that should be barred from our language. Perhaps if we followed one person's model by using it less, judging each other less, then the standards set by society would change. I know Andy certainly wouldn't be a household name if he continued to create art by society's standards. Because society might not see the beauty in the ordinary even if it jumped up and out at them. 

It's hard to imagine for some that beauty is everywhere. It's in everything and everyone. It’s more than the surface value. But what do I know. Right? Well you may not believe me but I spent a portion of my life being seen as ugly.  I recently confided to a friend that people used to call me “ugly” and he didn’t believe me. I wish I were lying and it wasn’t true. I’m not sharing because I want sympathy. Do not fucking pity me because I will not pity you. I wouldn’t be who I am without the scars and a very high tolerance when it comes to meanness. 

I suppose I’m sharing because I’ve seen beautiful young women see themselves as defective and start to change themselves & self destruct to conform to what they think others expect them to be. I’ve been there. I pierced/prodded myself, over-ate and starved myself, cut myself, drugs to race and chase me into perfection, bleached out my long hair until it was the texture of broken straw and then chopped off all my newly healed hair into an audrey pixie cut over a gnarly breakup. Nowadays I don’t alter my appearance over men or my emotional state. I change my hair and body to please me. It’s way more fun!

Possibly another reason I am sharing is because some women perceive me as a threat. This is still relatively new to me and it’s frustrating because I don't understand the need to feel threatened. But I'm glad to be in a position to try to understand it. Let me explain… People will be cruel no matter what you look like. Last year some girl actually insulted me by saying I was pretty and I wasn’t sure how to take it. A friend told me: you think you get by under the radar and she thinks you are her competition. This rationale confuses me because when I see a beautiful woman, like Angelina Jolie or a Victoria Secret model, I admire them. I aspire to be as beautiful inside and outside as they are. So I will say it’s still very interesting to me that people perceive how I am and my abilities on whether I am pretty or ugly, overweight or skinny. I don’t think about appearances or judge myself or others. It’s simply easier not to and keep going. 

Honestly, if you asked me I say I was a better conversationalist than a beauty or sex symbol often relying on my wit and words to entice people to see my way. I highly recommend learning the art of conversation. It is really a lost art with the invention of wi-fi devices and highly underrated. It's funny to believe, but I have gotten a lot of my jobs & favors from talking my way into them, not from using my feminine wiles. 

Here’s the thing, like many of you… I don't know why I behave how I do most of the time. Probably like you... I’m playing it cool because I’m trying to be more comfortable with a situation, sometimes it’s compliments – I’m getting better at being graceful when accepting them, other times I’m trying to understand why anyone would envy me &/or I’m diffusing a situation where I or someone else is intimidated.

Yep I’m can get just as intimidated by all of you. I'm very human and it took years to get comfortable with looks, stares and compliments from people as appreciation rather than an insult. When I see a guy or girl friend graciously accept a compliment about their beauty I wish I were as composed. I'm adjusting to staring & complements thanks to my tattoos which I usually diffuse by referring to their creators. But staring used to mean I was about to have an insult hurled in my direction when I was growing up. Or there was food between my teeth? Can you relate? Exactly. Fucking sucks right? 

One of my psych classes years ago labeled it Ugly Duck Syndrome. But I don’t think anyone is an ugly duck and unless we all get to be swans no one gets to be. Why? I think even people we perceive as beautiful get to feeling ugly sometimes. Yeah, I do admit to having a temper but I try to relate and understand women because we are taught to view each other as competition for men and vanity instead of careers or goals. I believe this is why it took a man to teach me how to be a true competitor with work, to spar equally and seek to be a better opponent. An insecure woman would have just competed with looks instead of work and disparaged my self esteem. **Don’t get me wrong two strong women mentored me in Interior Design and Business Management. I wouldn’t be fabulous without them.

My advice if you’re young or old, feeling super awkward, being insulted and don’t understand why people are cruel… well it isn’t forever. There are no quick fix fads to change growing as a person or maturing. Just be yourself. Find the right people who champion and support you. Realize that you are beautiful and that beauty will expand. You will feel more comfortable about yourself. Feelings of insecurity don’t change unless you let them. Your appearance will improve if you take an interest in caring for yourself but you have to work on your self-esteem. Someday the chances are that the good looking girl or guy talking to you… wants to talk to you, hear all about your interests and sees your inner/outer beauty. Give them a break and trust that you deserve them.

If you are young or old, pretty and feeling super uncomfortable about how bad some people treat you… realize it's not about you. You are beautiful and people are unhappy with their appearances sometimes. Just be yourself! Try to always be kind no matter what, develop a thicker skin, learn to channel your emotions and develop a voice and interests that don’t rely upon your appearance. Find supportive friends who can relate. Someday that wonderful attractive woman or man will value your intellect, interests and all that is internally/externally beautiful about you.

All girls should know that they are special exactly the way they are. Be whomever you need to be. Resilience is learned. And toughness doesn't make anyone less of a lady. Girls should be allowed to be both feminine and tough if they choose; Play in the dirt and dress up like a princess if their heart desires it. It’s not necessary to compete for looks or love with other women. It’s alright to be competitive for a job or with your goals. My competition is myself. I will always strive to outdo & improve upon myself. 

Are you a kind person? What do you compete for? Who is your competition?

Enjoy living, loving and breathing, 

Kisses, m. 

Dreams ~ Unknown

Dreams of you

Haunt me

Your kiss

Your touch

Although unknown 

Are things...

I crave.

-m.

Forgotten ~ Feeling

I forgot 

What love 

Looked like

What it felt like

Until you found... 

Me.

~ m.

  

Metta

People forget about things because they choose to do so. If it's important enough a person will do everything not to forget a moment or people. Because people and their moments are forever and impossible to erase. If you are motivated you make someone or something a priority. If not then you don't. I always say: you can't miss someone who doesn't miss you back. Well I'm wrong for saying it that way. So here's the thing: You can miss someone who doesn't miss you back but missing them won't make them miss you back. 

In buddhism, loving-kindness compassion is always the main intention. When you have compassion for yourself then you have compassion for others. Do everything not to hurt others including forget them. How do you find your compassion for others and be mindful of how to treat them? Find love for yourself. When you can't, then you find a way... 

Metta (loving-kindness) is a type of meditation that helps you learn to love yourself and others. It involves identifying with an image or object that easily inspires feeling of love, compassion and warmth. Typically it's best to use oneself as the object for compassion, but some people find this hard as they feel they do not deserve love. If it's easier you can use a friend, family member, a child or an animal as a benefactor for your metta. 

I chose a friend when I first started my metta two years ago. It's amazing because whenever I see this person to this day I still have so much joy and warmth for them. Eventually I learned to transfer this to myself and onto others. You see, the important piece of the puzzle is remember to find someone or something that inspires simple and resolute feelings of compassion and love without worry of reciprocation. 

The point of metta is to connect and experience a sense of unselfish love toward another. Once you find your object, you focus on how you feel about them and let the warmth expand naturally, you can think "may you be happy," "may you be safe" and " may you be healthy" and eventually you turn your metta inward to say "may I be happy" etc., and through that start telling that your critic that says otherwise that you deserve to be happy, healthy and safe. We all do. 

In Buddhism without understanding there's no possibility of true compassion or true love. Remember you must not forget to love yourself first. 

Here's a story about remembering with a flower named after forgetting. 

Do you remember to love yourself?  Do you extend compassion to others? 

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.

Forget Me Not.

Forget Me Not. Why that’s a lovely flower.

Is there someone you want to remind? Well that’s the flower that will do it. It’s certainly the thing with Forget-me-not’s. They’re a flower for…

Wait I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you know what it means? You don’t.

Let me tell you what my Grammy told me long ago. My Grammy told me a story that she would swear happened when she was a girl. There was a man and his wife. You see the man was a solider who often left his wife to go off to fight a battle. Right before leaving he would find the biggest and brightest bouquet of flowers for her. In the middle of the arrangement, next to the marigolds you would find a bunch of Forget-Me-Nots. Whenever he left the man would have his wife pin a Forget-Me-Not to the front of her dress and tell her to wear one everyday until he returned. As long as she wore the flower the man swore he would never forget to find his way home to her.  And sure enough every time he was away she wore the flower until he returned.

What do you think? Of course it’s an old wives tale. Is there more? A little.

According to my Grammy the wife had once forgotten to place a flower in her dress while the husband was away. She continued on like this for days. For every day she did not wear the flower she didn’t hear news from or about her husband. After many days she finally placed one on her dress, her husband immediately returned without fail.

Ok. It’s interesting I’ll give you that. What happened? I suppose she never removed the flower again. And yours? Hopefully it keeps someone reminded for you.

believe

To Miss Someone? Hmmm... You can't miss someone who doesn't miss you back. 

And Love? Eep! How about fun & romance & feelings instead?  Well what do you believe? Buddhists believe love is in everything & opening your heart to love everything in return as an act of compassion. So love... it's a bit of a zany concept to me now. Can I still fall into it? Yes... But I view it differently now. 

Ok ok! Someone asks me if I've written anything specifically for Valentine's Day before and I have to say "sorta" because I have but really it's not my thang. Don't get me wrong the romantical stuff is über fun just not when its commercially mass produced. 

We all think romance is a grand thing and all that jazz when we find it with someone we like. It's an abysmal chasm when we don't. Now and again everyone finds themselves walking back into it without any inkling of knowing ahead of time. Ah, but we must all be careful who we care for and hurt along the way. It's not funny when I get hurt so I can't imagine anyone enjoys it. Life is too short and death is far too long... But you decide what works for you.

Here's a 300 sorta about romantical things and not really at all. But it was written for Vday. Ha. Enjoy! kisses. m.

hit

(2-13-2011)

What is it honey? Tell me about it then. 

Love. 

What about it? 

It hits you that’s for sure. Knocks the wind out of you if you’re not careful. 

Let me tell you… Falling is the easy part. The jumping is the tricky part. Most people won’t get close enough to the edge before backing out. 

How does it happen? 

Well you meet someone and you find yourself getting to know each other. All too well. That’s always fun. Soon enough you can‘t stand to be apart and you start telling yourself: It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. And somehow you know you’re in too deep. 

At that moment of depth you know you’ve been seduced by their charm.  The feeling you get when they’re around is overwhelming happy. There is no one else you’d rather be with. You still wonder if it was supposed to be different. 

Wasn’t it? 

Your defenses are down. You are completely caught off guard. But that is love. And then there’s no other way it could have been. It happened when you weren’t looking. A wall you can’t get around, over, or crawl under.

Before too long comes the realization that you're hit. That person’s love has wounded you. You're not the same as you were. 

No way it’s all a big accident and fooling is no longer an option. When you look in the mirror you know by your own reflection that it’s growing inside. 

Love. 

An emotion that can not be caged is bigger, louder and completely taking you by surprise. Standing face to face with the inevitable and its more than you care to think about. You’re consumed with the hope that they are feeling the same. 

How do you know?  

My dear, you don’t. Have to believe they’re hit just like you. 

Task

It's hard to tell someone you're working on something without showing them your dedication to the task. I've written and re-written passages from the Novel several times. And held off publishing to do so. Why? Some do not have the hardened tone I had once began with. 

As I started winding down to edit last year I realized that I truly didn't know which parts would fit in the finished product and I began rewriting. I do know I will finish and I am not making excuses. Yes, some characters are harder to process than others. Especially the women in the book. One of them is Jemma and, of course one of my favorites to get into. This is an excerpt written from her and quite unfinished because it's tone is very different from the others and while I want to add to it... I'm uncertain it has a place in the bigger scope of things. What do you think? 

Anyhoo... Do you dedicate yourself fully to a task? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Dedicated

(11-2012)

“You’re leading an inauthentic life if you…” trails off the audio book in my newly detailed BMW S-series hybrid sedan that my agent has me driving for the sheer fact that ‘when you’re somebody damn it, then you’re environmentally conscious in this town’ quote unquote.

I am somebody.

Traffic has slowed to a complete stop on the 405 while the wannabe Chopra dictates how to live a more authentic life and instead of really listening all I can focus on is the license plate in front of me that reads BIG THINGS resting above an enormous pair of balls. The larger the balls the bigger the man reads the bumper sticker resting next to the ridiculously extreme nut sack in front of me.

Alton once told me that only the most obnoxious form of trash places those adornments on their cars. We were sitting in front of some newly opened art café in the last years oh so trendy Piedmont district when she carefully pointed out the obvious offender with two of her fingers snuggly secure in a ring containing a pair of obscenely large sapphires on her right hand.  She went on to say, “Men put their ego on display by showing off their balls and women tuck their ego neatly into a pair of overpriced shoes or a piece of jewelry,” before flashing her green finger bobbles above a pair of matching Peacock Louboutins she’d stolen from my closet.

As I stop in the middle of the memory to wonder who she’d stolen the ring from I’m yanked forward when the traffic shifts and the Faux-pra is now telling me to “fully commit to your dream” after saying “anything is possible” before jumping back to the tagline “dedicate your life to authenticity” then disc 5 ends and traffic stops once more.

“If you want your career to go anywhere you have to be dedicated to what you are doing,” Continues Guru Zero as the traffic crawls to a stop and I realize I'm not going anywhere. “How dedicated are you?” 

Promises, Promises

Ever promise something and not deliver? Words and actions shouldn’t ever be so far apart yet I did break a very big promise in recent months and wounded one of my favorite people because of it.  I do my best not to do this to others. But it happens, I am human and life can get messy at times. In this instance it was beyond my ability to prevent and killed me to break my word. You see it's rare that I break my promise to anyone. I admit I deserve it if you wanted to be mad with me for breaking my word because I know it's not fun. I get that you might be sore about it because, yes it's happened to me too... 

Many months ago someone broke a promise to me, and I didn't get over the hurt of it. I did forgive the person but I never reminded him of the error. Why? You can't change what happened. You can move ahead though. Understandable, it's a shame when we break our word to people. We aren't certain how they will treat us later but you can hope they forgive you eventually. 

Personally I've learned to never expect anything from life. No matter what. Because life is impermanent. :)

How about you? What do you do when you break your word? Or when a friend breaks their word to you? Do you punish them or mistreat them? Or forgive them? 

Here's an old 300 about promises and it's also a second version... 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Here it comes

(9-29-2010)

Here I am lying on the bed watching him as I roll over he smiles and I tease him with a flash of skin before he goes into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He always enjoy a tease and I know that. While the door stays open he tells me “I’m taking a shower” before telling me that he’s gonna take care of me when he’s done and how sorry he is to keep me waiting. 

Sorry. I think about the money I spent on him for a gift and how we haven't been able to make time for each other. I was just looking for someone to pass a little time with and now it’s been so long. Long enough for apologies and for me to get upset.

Maybe I’m tired of things?  Which is a lie I’m telling myself because I’m just tired of waiting. But that doesn’t matter because all I want is a piece of him. And you don’t need to be in love for that. I needed it. I deserved a little piece.

He’s out of the shower and telling me just another minute. He tells me “here I come” before quickly shutting the door. "Get ready." The race is on. Keeps saying how he’s waited so long to give this to me. And he continues teasing me with more, first with a hand on my shoulder then moving up to my earlobe with a whisper to tell me more.

Before I can say “can we take it slow…” his words cease and I hear a “zzzzz.”

Then I think “WHAT!”

A few seconds later he’s sound asleep and I realize I'm too exhausted from my week to bother waking and reminding him of his promise. Race is over. We have a washout. It’ll be worth the wait. 

Smile

My mom tells me I don't smile enough in pictures. I tell her I'm smiling on the inside before I tell her I smile when I see my favorite people. So I smiled at her and she laughed.

I find a joke and smile can sometimes break the ice... Or not? It's been a bit chilly lately.

Which I will say, the last few weeks have demonstrated the most extraordinary kindness in humanity and the utmost unknindess in humanity. But the unkindness didn't take my joy or smile. The questions arised from this statement are filling your brain right now because you expect me to complain and praise people. Ah, you cannot change people. Once you accept that, you are happier and can find the happiness in everything.

I will say again as I often do... I can give you the Buddhist answers but you must find them to be true for yourself. You see, we treat people as we view them treating us. Sometimes it's a meanness because we feel spurned by them. Sometimes it's nothing at all. In Buddhism it is encouraged that we treat everyone kindly. Even when they are unkind. This may not be easy. But if you realize that everyone has a struggle they are enduring whether they tell you about it or not, their actions seem clearer. A wrong can't be righted with another wrong. It only makes things worse. 

I am reminded of a Buddhist story... 

“There was an ugly, hideous, smelly, and gross looking monster that went to see an emperor at his palace. When the monster walked in, the guards saw the monster and knew he didn’t belong there, so the guards screamed at the monster, calling him names and threatening the monster. And for every rude thing the guards said, the monster grew one inch bigger, uglier, and smellier. The guards then pulled out their swords, waving and striking it towards the monster and still yelling at the monster, and with every strike and word, the monster grew one inch bigger, uglier, and smellier. The monster got so big, it took up half the size of the courtyard. Then the emperor walks in and sees the monster. The emperor opens his arms and yelled, “Welcome!” And the monster grew one inch smaller, less uglier and smellier. The emperor offered the monster water and food, and the monster grew smaller, less uglier and smellier. And with every kind word, gesture, and action, smaller, less uglier and smellier the monster got. The monster got so small, that one more kind word it would disappear, and it did.”

I find when I extend kindness and perhaps a smile for the difficult situations & people I find resistance with, I find the circumstances less monstrous. Finding compassion within ourselves helps us extend kindness to others. And I really do enjoy seeing people happy instead of sad. 

Here's a 300 about the happiness in a memory that came from the last ebook. Sometimes happy is found in our devotion to our family, friends and children. Look for it. It's there. Smile. Being happy helps me to be focused on enjoying life instead of unkindness. But do what works for you! 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Happy

(8-27-14)

Happiness is my heart. In a small moment I’m alone in a crowded room. Surrounded by the love and happiness of the souls around me. The warmth that fills my soul expands and contracts with my thoughts. The essence of the trees shifts with the wind. 

Slowly the switch of the light changes the mood of crowd. A man flicks his cigarette and I’m lost in the sea. I can smell this morning in the puff of smoke that carries across the sea of faces. I can see his face in the dusk cascading off the white wall. His eyes smile. I wish this moment was the present. But it’s not. It’s a memory where I know he’s sitting across from me. I’m happy thinking of him. But I know I need to return to the present.

Presents are spilling out her bag as she walks up. I love the way she wears her hair in a bandana. The instant I see her messy curls spilling out and bouncing in the wind. I think of the hints of color in his hair, her black highlighted curls and I’m spinning backwards into his smile.  I’m involved in this self-centered thought where he’s watching me quietly. But he’s not here. 

Here the warmth of the day surrounding me like a lover’s absent hug and I’m imagining the touch that matches his smile. Returning from my thoughts I watch a couple across the room giggling coo’s of tenderness. 

Tenderness in their touch sends me aching into a memory anticipating what could come. I’m struggling for the present moment when all I can think of is the future and the past in my mind’s eye. When I stop to breathe I think of the electricity in those eyes.

Damn those electric eyes. 

I’m happy.

Moments ~ Breathe

These moments
When I can't breathe.
Balling up
Into the pain,

I'm reminded that I've been absent
Too long
From your grace.

Completely satisfied by life
On my own.
I let you go
For life is
A pleasure you too enjoy
On your own.

Yet I gasp for air
Aching from

Inside out

To feel your touch,
To see your face.

Knowing you enjoy
Your freedom
I only desire
A glimpse to quench 

The thirst.

Knowing 

It will have to be enough
I set you free
Again.
Until the air
I breathe
Grows thin...

Without the sight of you.

~m.

Graceful ~ Tears

Flying.

Gracefully falling.

And

Counting the days 

down to you. 

My mind distracted 

With the thought

Of you.

Reminding me 

Of the

Aches in my heart.

Because

I am 

A bird

No longer afraid

Of the cage.

I'm 

Wishing

I was there...

I'd give anything

To be there...

To kiss your tears away.

~m.

Floating ~ Caught

Slow dive
And
Free Falling.

Floating.

Although unknown,
I'm
Alive by these
Growing feelings

That ache my heart
In your absence.

Knowing
Open Arms
And Able Hands
Are there
When we're ready...

To be caught.

~m

Dreams ~ Memories

Dreams are like
Memories
We haven't created.

I know your hand is in mine.
But we haven't yet embraced it.

Awake
Knowing the time will come

For our two bodies

To join hands
To link memories
And...

Dream together.

-m.

Free ~ Hearts

These little heartaches

Remind me I'm yours

Not entirely.

Entirely your heart beats free

Away from mine 

A freedom I too enjoy

Until this beating grows

Into aches

To join yours.

~m

Everything is Magical

Being submerged is a magical feeling. It's quiet and otherworldly. I admire and encourage all photographers to try shooting underwater! 

Feeling submerged by life... Doesn't feel so magical does it? No. You can swim the currents of life. I promise you. You are magical and your life is precious. We all are. In our own way. No more important than another...

Everyone you know is magic and does the most magical things. Maybe you think otherwise? Perhaps you think someone is not. It doesn't matter what you think. Why? That spark of life and sentience is the one thing that separates man from anything else on the planet. That in itself makes us magical. And life is precious no matter what anyone tells you otherwise. Listen to yourself. Do not drown or submerge yourself on circumstance or someone who has bad words for you or wants your envy. It doesn't make them a bad person... It means they simply disagree with you and want to control your opinion. You don't have to let them. Love them. I do. I get a kick out of watching them try to get me down. 

Here's a story I wrote that was inspired by a video that looks and sounds like this... 

And the story an image that captures the very essence of that photograph up top.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Still Life 

(September 25, 2009)

Floating. Weightless. Sinking.

There are a million thoughts in my mind as I’m descending further toward a watery basin. The loose pieces of white sheets dance in the aquamarine expanse that surrounds. The long black tendrils of my hair reach up to grasp and the last remaining spark of golden light that penetrates the water’s surface.

It’s not clear to me how long I have before hitting the bottom, or perhaps even, how long I can continue to hold my breath. There are so many uncertain feelings in my gut. Would this time be different? Had I pushed him too far? Would he really let me drown? As I descend deeper and deeper, the pressure becomes heavier and it’s now a struggle to hold my breath. These last moments are becoming quieter and darker. The small glint of golden light is diminishing and the sea around me becomes bluish darkness.

Sinking me had always been a threat that neither of us took seriously. Artists. Painters. Writers. Photographers. All such passionate, emotional, misguided, highly wounded and intense individuals. Tempers to blame so very often. Even after he dropped me off a building, hit me with a car, and took a knife to my face, I still believed in his devotion… as all was in the sake of the craft and I was never in any harm. The beauty of the moment - the creation of a single timeless instant to be frozen for all eternity. After the anger there was always such impractical beauty. Researched. Polaroided. Cataloged. Painted. Hung in the museum, the gallery, or the rich man’s wall for all to envy. This time I’m afraid he’s quite determined and madness has taken over. The madman fitted me with a pair of cement shoes which seal my fate of sinking to the depths. This will be over soon I keep telling myself.

No point in struggling. That will only ensure that I’ll drown before the bottom. I’m wrapped tightly in 50 yards of white canvas bound by ropes from my shoulders to the base of my calves. Mummified in an still moment at the base of the ocean. The fool wanted to see the beauty in my sinking so he never wrapped my face. “There will be no need to gag you,” calmly he tells me as his hand brushes my cheek and pauses. Look him in the eye for answers. “You can't scream or struggle... you’ll suffocate.” There are none as his gaze breaks away. He lifts me and carry me to the edge of the dock. “We can’t change this. You understand? This is the epitome. The final boundary of this work is this challenge... You must see the beauty in this. I love you. Trust me.” Laugh. Kiss my forehead. Let go.

I’m falling. Watching his face from beneath the surface as it scrutinizes my descent.

Holding my breath is becoming unbearable. It’s quite apparent to me now… there’s no return we have begun. He follows me under. Pretty certain I’ll be reaching the threshold of my limits. Open my mouth to release a bubble of air. The time is almost here. I’m fading when he starts shooting. There’s no more strength but I press on. Take in water. Soon we'll have it… open eyes and mouth, pale white skin, blood red lips, and aquamarine darkness against white canvas. Breathtaking beauty, researched, photographed, cataloged and then painted. Still life.

To hear more music... http://www.katehavnevik.com/ 

To read more writing...

http://thefabulousmsm.blogspot.com/search/label/Writing

Quality Time

This doll's favorite time spent is with her favorite Ken but now and again she does love to get some time in alone and encourages Ken to do the same! How about you dolls and kens? Ever spend some quality time with the most important person in your life? Who? YOU! Well, do you constantly surround yourself with people or spend some time alone with yourself? Being alone is never a bad thing. It's not the solitude that is frightening you. Perhaps it is the loneliness? You never know unless you try it! The basic premise of being alone: Learn to Love and Appreciate yourself for all the little quirks and wonderful things and you’ll have company forever. In order to give this immense treasure of love and compassion to others you have to appreciate where it comes from and make great efforts to replenish it. As humans we aren't meant to keep our love in or give it all outward. There is no need to fear the absence of affection. Love is an infinite thing that lives within you. You can only suffer without by your own choosing. Be kind, be generous and your love will go far. 

This excerpt is from The Inauthentic Life/The Persepectives. I'm currently in the middle of writing on it again and hopefully will be ready to publish someday. 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Alone Time

(8-13-2010)

The world is alone.

I wonder if they know they are alone.

Even driving through the night feels alone.

The reds make me come and go.

The people come and go.

A new one every night.

The air tonight is very warm.

Even with the convertible down the heat is considerable.

I wonder if he knows that this is my only trick.

My only piece de resistance.

Magic is nothing more than a slight of hand.

Behind the ear. In the hand.

In my mouth. Actually I’m in his.

There’s nothing like night driving down the highway with the top down and…

“What happens after tomorrow,” this is what she asks while playing with her hair.

“I don’t know. Adrian will probably be here.”

“Adrian? Why the fuck is he coming here?”

“Because I left him in New York yesterday, at 4am in front of Tiffany’s for breakfast.”

“You didn’t!” she giggles and rolls over in the bed.

“I did. Do me a favor?” I play the coy smile game with her.

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell him you saw me.”

“What makes you think he’ll stop by? He left a gram six months ago and hasn’t been back since.”

She gets up, walks across the room naked and dances her way into the bathroom. She emerges and produces a tiny object. I smile and tell her that he’s ridiculous. She agrees and gets back in bed. It’s just like old times and I’m with Adrian’s girl.

Sometimes when there’s trouble I wonder what Adrian’s doing. I can’t imagine him not being in trouble. But this isn’t about him. It’s only about trouble even though I can’t stop thinking about him.

Carlos has a handbag full of MAC cosmetics in the backseat. The wind from the drive keeps whipping the bag around. It seems to be alive in the backseat. The radio has a quiet somber song on it that reminds me of Pink Orange Red by the Cocteau Twins. There’s not really any other noise in the car. I’m completely alone. It’s only when he moves more than slightly that I’m reminded differently. A feeling I don’t want to stop and can only encourage it by a sound or touch.

Jemma James. This is her stage name. I tell her I hate it and how it reminds me of that porn star and… “HONEY!” It’s the first thing I said when she met me at LAX. When she was standing there with her long dark hair. Before taking off her sunglasses. Before running and screaming at me. I miss Jemma. It’s been too long.

The drive back to her place is longer than I thought it would be. I can’t get over the way she looks. I tuck her dark hair behind her ear and she turns her smiling face to look at me. But I can’t see it because her sunglasses eat up her little face. Jackie O and Audrey should’ve been shot for wearing those things.

“You look good.” I tell her and touch her cheek.

“So do you… how’s living alone?”

“I’m adjusting. It’s not the same without you and our midnight manicures.”

“Oh honey, I miss you too. But you know… and this is what I want. Tonight we’ll have some fun together.”

“Speaking of what you want, how’s the J-O-B thing going?”

“I’m working, because I’m fabulous of course. There’s a couple of TV things and then there’s…”
“TV! Really, I’m sorry I don’t watch.”

“Alex, listen there’s a thing I have to do in two days, so you can’t… I can only put you up tonight.”

“Not a problem.”
She keeps driving like a maniac. There’s so much traffic that I forget how I’m still touching her face until she touches my hand and moves it away with a smile.

“Relax we’re almost there…”

The light is red when we approach the intersection. I move him away and start to negotiate the final direction to the house. Wayne has made the arrangements for tonight. Tonight feels like home. Even pulling into the gates of this house that isn’t mine feels right at home.

Wayne makes things happen. I let them happen. Adrian happens.

But this is me getting ahead of myself. Before the facts, the fiction and whatever in between. Before you can go back home you have to have been somewhere else.

The night started with a drive and destination. It started with a phone call for nothing that I made after the one I made to Wayne because he makes things happen. Calling for nothing but trouble is when I met up with Carlos which is what happened before I ended up with a place that feels like home. It’s a place where your best friend isn’t an actress with a porn star name, a script to read and “alone time” for character building.

Alone time. I swear she says this is what it’s called. And she swears “I’m not making this up” then smiles with her teeth showing.  Jemma tells me as we are going 75 miles down the freeway that she needs “alone time” to get into her character. This is why I can’t stay for more than one night. I remember when “alone time” meant you needed to masturbate.

“Does it work that way for women?” She turns red when I posture the question.

“I suppose getting into character is like self pleasure.”

“Explain. I have to know how rubbing one out compares to getting into character.”

“You have to be able to feel good about playing with this person’s head before you get into it.”

Interrupting our discussion about masturbation for the mind…There it is. Waving blue and red colors. Sounds like an anthem, blaring like an alarm. A public alarm that makes sure everyone around knows you’re getting publicly flogged. It happens as my mind drifts to visualize one of my oldest friends spending “alone time” with herself and I’m shockingly enjoying it. Maybe it was the porn star name that has my mind in the gutter or it’s the thought of what I might be doing when I am alone that triggers it? Anyway it just happens and then the sound interrupts my thought although it doesn’t interrupt her driving. I feel as though I’ve been caught with my pants down and my hand in the goods. But she keeps going until I tell her to stop.

“Do you know how fast you were going?” This is what the officer says. 70 miles is what Jemma says instead of 75. He has a face like a man from a porno about cops I once watched. I wonder if it’s him. They say: “Everybody is somebody in L.A.” Maybe he will look the other way like the man in the movie did after a few minutes in the backseat. But the officer isn’t very friendly about it. Even though he doesn’t sound or look like a real officer he is. This isn’t a porno and he won’t let you tell him about it in the backseat. He tells her 65 is what is posted and that anything else above that is breaking the law. Jemma says she’s never been stopped as he walks away with her license. She looks like she wants to cry. I smile and tell her about the porno cop so it’s ok. But it isn’t. Even though the thought of it is ridiculous he will give her a ticket for speeding that she will have to pay. And seventy doesn’t sound like or look like a real word even when you say it out loud or think about it.

Carlos is a friend of a friend whose name escapes me but we met at a party in Beverly Hills last year. He said he was 21 and I’m pretty sure his fake ID agreed but he was 18 with a bad lisp and amazing teeth. At the party he managed to go home with my nameless friend but not before telling me to “Call when you come back to town.” So I did and it’s instantly trouble but at least I have a car to drive. A tacky Lebaron convertible. He says he will blow me if I drive with him to Venice to pick up some Weed. I don’t care for Venice, Weed or Carlos but Jemma says that I should stay but not with her and I have time to waste.

When we get back to Jemma’s I’m convinced that she’s not living here. There’s hardly any furniture in her Spanish bungalow. It seems a bit ostentatious as she heads into the bedroom. She tells me about random celebrity sightings and that the Chateau is down the street. I don’t know what it means when people talk about celebrities but I do know about that place and it isn’t where I want to be tonight. This place isn’t her. I wish she’d take it off. Maybe later she’ll will.

“Jem, darling how can you afford this?”

“Alex. My agent. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this where you lived with…?”

“Yes, it is. How is he?”

“A mess.”

“Lovely. Just lovely. Do you want dinner in or out?”

“Out. Then in for the night, please.”

“Oh honey! You’ve missed me.”

“Yes, and I want you all to myself.”

By the time I’ve finished saying it she’s already stark naked and wandering the place. I’m making the face of shock when it should not be.

“Oh honey, you forgot about naked Tuesdays.”

“So I did. Should I participate?”

“Jump in.”

Venice is trouble the way you find out the person you’re with is shoplifting. It’s too late to stop it, but you don’t want anyone to find out what just happened. Venice involves a tiny little house and a thirty minute wait. It’s already dark when Carlos runs out screaming, “DRIVE!” so I do. After we’ve cleared the corner, the street and thirteen more blocks he tells me he just stole this guy’s stash. Then there’s so much more I don’t want to know or be involved with on the news. Selling buying trading where he’s a commodity and it doesn’t matter who. He didn’t know that man in Venice. That man with a gun in Venice. That man with a gun whose stash he just stole in Venice after deciding not to uphold his end of the arrangement. I pull over because I need a hit then I tell him we need a new car now.

Its perfect timing when we pull up to this Enterprise rental slash dealership because Wayne calls me. Tells me to call up his housekeeper in the hills. She has the code to his place and will give me directions. I nod and smile even though he can’t see it. I tell him I need a car, he says go to the house. I tell him thank you like he’s granted me salvation. I want to cry. Maybe he can hear it in my voice because he tells me “I’ll see you in a few days” before hanging up. This is going home. I’m almost home. Carlos feels bad when we get back in the car. I take out some reds. I need to check out. I don’t care if he feels bad. I tell him this is my “alone time” and he can figure out how to make it up.

It is late afternoon. In the middle of the room I’m lying awake by my sleeping soundly best friend when Spandau Ballet comes out of the clock. It’s same old Jemma and her lovely sad music. I can’t help wanting a line before she rolls over. But I don’t. This is nice and I really shouldn’t. She smiles when rolling over into my arms and I kiss her forehead.

“Good morning honey.” She moons like I’m her lover instead of her faggot friend.

“Hey stranger it’s afternoon.”

“Still bothered?”

“Hmm…”

“Remember I know you silly.”

“I’m ok. Would you get mad if… Nevermind.” I really want a line but I won’t.

“Tell me why you would leave Adrian in New York.”

“He’s fine. It’s not like that. He’s not alone. He’s with my… my…”

“Honey. Who?”

“Andy. He’s… someone to me. It’s new? He’s watching Adrian. Look, I don’t know what it all means yet.”

She smiles, plays with her hair and leaves things alone before getting up and into the shower.

Somewhere before I turn onto the highway I tell Carlos he’s coming with me to the house. I’m not stopping again tonight. It’s the only thing I said before he decides he’s going to make it up to me. At first I was mad and ignored his efforts by turning up the radio. Then the reds kick in and nothing matters anymore. The night is warm. The world is alone. And I’m almost home.

“Lunch in L.A. is how you get seen.” This is according to Jemma according back to someone famous who once said it. I can’t say I agree with her, but she’s a lot of fun to listen to sometimes. Even when she isn’t being herself and saying things like this. At this point we are dining in the midst of it all. I really don’t know what or why but apparently the waiter is sleeping with some director who just made 10 million opening day at the box office which isn’t very good or is it in the end. I can’t keep up with the jargon or words of this scene when she orders a chopped salad and a bottle of white wine. When I say “for lunch?” she makes a sad face and says “seen” with finger quotes. Then I realize my god that’s what Adrian does. It’s then I head to the bathroom for some “alone time” and do the line because lunch at a place named after a plant can’t possibly get you a part in a film. Can it? It’s only 45 minutes after we say our goodbyes that I wonder if we’re really going to see each other again before Friday.

At JFK there’s a man in the terminal taking numbers. I can’t imagine why he keeps taking numbers. I should ask someone but I don’t. It’s sometime between lunch and dinner that I finally get a flight to L.A. Andy’s friend has a connection, but I still can’t reach Alex. I need a hit. There’s a man in a uniform watching me try to take a hit and miss. I don’t care and stare at the man taking numbers again. He doesn’t look like a cop. But he could be. Wayne is back in town and I’m thinking of calling Alex again, but Andy’s friend comes back and she has my ticket. I can’t remember her name but she’s beautiful. I love talking to her about art and Van Gogh. She works at the Met and has a place in Brooklyn. I never met a girl that looked this and talked like this. She tells me I don’t need the candy or Alex. Smiles and tells me to stay in New York. I want to stay but my flight leaves in 45 minutes. She touches my hand and says we have time for other things and that there’s always a later flight. I don’t care about Alex anymore and I forgot about wherever you went two days ago.