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The More than a blurt thread, prose, poetry and manic tirades

*Gianna talking to herself*

Love your foe, coddle them close. For they will teach you to fight so that when you really need to, you will have the mental focus to give you an edge.
The battle, is of course, within to control fear and anger. BE YOU! make sure fear is impotent in it's ability to distort you. Anger, unfocused, is the worst enemy second to fear because it clouds judgment. Do not compromise who you are. Learn your definition of self and keep it pure. My child within is alive and well and will guide me.
 
Ironically I have more employment, it is being the personal attendant of a person whom I love, she was recently diagnosed with cancer of the liver. My job is to be her companion and helper. I am to light her final days. Do I have the strength? I hope so.

I was hoping for more employment but I would have rather gotten it another way. *sigh*
 
strangeness, I dance with the unknown of the internet. How can we ever know what is real and what is not. Does it really matter? We interact with strangers, some become friends and the known, others are only a presentation of an actor. Even when we believe we are being truthful, our communication skills paint the canvass, what we say often is communicated inaccurately leaving much of the painting painted by our imagination and life experience. What a parents taught us, assumptions we all have made color in the gaps, and add to the distortion of what is. It is amazing any of us can tell what is going on. But we can simplify by avoiding assumptive though and projecting. See with clear eyes. remember what you can do, not what they do.
 
Gi_Venus said:
strangeness, I dance with the unknown of the internet. How can we ever know what is real and what is not. Does it really matter? We interact with strangers, some become friends and the known, others are only a presentation of an actor. Even when we believe we are being truthful, our communication skills paint the canvass, what we say often is communicated inaccurately leaving much of the painting painted by our imagination and life experience. What a parents taught us, assumptions we all have made color in the gaps, and add to the distortion of what is. It is amazing any of us can tell what is going on. But we can simplify by avoiding assumptive though and projecting. See with clear eyes. remember what you can do, not what they do.
Click to expand...

You must be reading my mind today.

Maybe it's the sense of isolation that our particular orientations bring us, but I have been sitting here wondering about "internet friendships".

The uniqueness of the internet allows us to reach out and connect with others while remaining in our isolation. Perhaps that in itself is why it is possible to be hurt by what really is nothing more that a bunch of electrons bouncing around a computer screen. We grow very attached to those electrons that represent those people. We cherish them. When, as if the monitor becomes unplugged, they go away it is painful to us. I wonder why we let ourselves become so enamored and seduced by electrons when we should be searching for that connection in the real world where we could touch, feel and smell those that we would choose as friends and thereby be better prepared for both theirs and our own failings. Perhaps it is a convenient, lazy, way of maintaining contact with others. Maybe we hope it will hurt less. I don't know, but I do know that those electrons floating around my screen can hurt me deeply and it saddens me that I have become so vulnerable.
 
Safe_Bet said:
You must be reading my mind today.

Maybe it's the sense of isolation that our particular orientations bring us, but I have been sitting here wondering about "internet friendships".

The uniqueness of the internet allows us to reach out and connect with others while remaining in our isolation. Perhaps that in itself is why it is possible to be hurt by what really is nothing more that a bunch of electrons bouncing around a computer screen. We grow very attached to those electrons that represent those people. We cherish them. When, as if the monitor becomes unplugged, they go away it is painful to us. I wonder why we let ourselves become so enamored and seduced by electrons when we should be searching for that connection in the real world where we could touch, feel and smell those that we would choose as friends and thereby be better prepared for both theirs and our own failings. Perhaps it is a convenient, lazy, way of maintaining contact with others. Maybe we hope it will hurt less. I don't know, but I do know that those electrons floating around my screen can hurt me deeply and it saddens me that I have become so vulnerable.
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it is true, for me it is real most of the time it really is relative. It has been very interesting meeting some of my internet friends. Most of the time they are as real as they were on the internet. One, was not, and that was how he portrayed himself, I had to find out in person.

Remember it can be false or real. It depends on the individual. Really we are all alone. We are all islands, and our illusion is that we are dancing close. *sigh* Perhaps I am just a loner, I do not like being alone. For a while, with my ex, we were we. I miss her, she keeps us apart. Our mutual project is little boy, I am able to grace her sometimes.
 
My reality is one of insecurity, my world has evolved to one of giving up all of who I was, not just in a gender sense but almost the primordial self. With my body mind dissonance I created a character to deal with the world for I was not allowed to be me. I hid from me so that even the most fundamental qualities of myself are manufactured. Any self honesty was squelched by the pain which manifested itself. Through the years I played tag with myself, in my teens I used distraction and intoxicants to hide. One powerful moment was holding my nephew in my lap and having the strong thought of wishing I could breast feed him, such an act would have seemed so right. Being in denial about myself brought about a cacophony of self loathing. Men do not think this way! And through the years so I lived with occasional reminders in the wayward inward thoughts that thrust their way into my consciousness. Quickly I would thrust them back into the darkness.
Lost, I focused on the outside world, in the distractions I found, for a period
I painted. I became obsessed with the female form. In retrospect it makes sense that I was painting with a sense of longing in the form I felt right for myself. Always I sought a closer connection with people. This made me strange to people for males typically do not indulge in this kind of behavior.
Generally those that were my friends drifted away. Leaving me more and more to my thoughts. This pattern would have gone on had not I met a woman that would lead me to a state of introspection that left no doubt to me as to who I was.

I met her on an internet site. Her name was G________, people called her Gigi for short. Gigi invoked things within me that were alien to me. I did not realize that I had the capacity of behavior or thought that she provoked in me. I will not divulge our strange relationship, and it was strange even in the unconventional sense. Our affair was short, but in the aftermath it left me in an honest introspective state. In those moments I realized that I was a woman. All the repressed thoughts from the years of running came pouring into my head.

So now I am involved in the process of purification, that of casting the ugly maleness from my body and mind. Ironically because I have the brain physiology of a woman I have only to just be. It really is as simple as that.
But the years of defilement in acting contrary to myself have ingrained their habit. My reality is one of hope, despair, beauty and self loathing.

First of all, my own view of self is one of horror. I am too old to be beautiful in a physical sense. Recognition of the horror of my denial of self
Leaves me prone to despair. Fear is rife within me, haunting me with shadows of inadequacy, bound as if with shackles the mind is a poignant thing. The very same organ can cast the light of a rainbow or defile life, leaving one yearning for the ultimate end. To find oneself with beauty and with awful hurt brings the catalyst of madness, bound in tears and the smile at a child.
 
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How strange is life. I have been hired to be an attendant to a woman, it is a part time job. She comes from sturdy New England stock, and embraces all kinds of people. Her deceased husband was a General Practitioner in the area. She ran his office embracing the community in her interactions of a small town office. She is full of memories and moments in which people had a starring role. We have sat and talked where she gives a vibrant bright portrait of a time that is gone. She still moves in the community active in her social world loved by many. Tonight I visited her in her Hospital room. As I sat there, guests moved to and from the room, obviously many already have heard of me(a lot of the small town is still here under the veneer of a modern bigger world), they looked me over very intently. I am the "daughter" of a retired, politician and school board member, many knew my mother.
A trip the to the "old" hardware store brought me in front of another old family from the town. The proprietor recognizes faces very well and had greeted me through the years. The last time, I was in a hurry and it was the first time I have been in there as "Gianna". He seemed very upset and uneasy. He did not greet me. I gave him a quiet thank you when we had completed our transaction with him keeping silent and staring with disapproval. Today I went back in, and was open about who and what I was. He relaxed and was friendly again as if nothing had happened. He knows my mother and the woman I am attending. lol a small town outs me regardless of my desires. I will dance the social dance and let the stares fall as they may. As Mrs. C______'s attendant I will be in social settings that were not a part of my life before. Strangely enough I am emboldened in my own security of self.
 
Gi_Venus said:
How strange is life. I have been hired to be an attendant to a woman, it is a part time job. She comes from sturdy New England stock, and embraces all kinds of people. Her deceased husband was a General Practitioner in the area. She ran his office embracing the community in her interactions of a small town office. She is full of memories and moments in which people had a starring role. We have sat and talked where she gives a vibrant bright portrait of a time that is gone. She still moves in the community active in her social world loved by many. Tonight I visited her in her Hospital room. As I sat there, guests moved to and from the room, obviously many already have heard of me(a lot of the small town is still here under the veneer of a modern bigger world), they looked me over very intently. I am the "daughter" of a retired, politician and school board member, many knew my mother.
A trip the to the "old" hardware store brought me in front of another old family from the town. The proprietor recognizes faces very well and had greeted me through the years. The last time, I was in a hurry and it was the first time I have been in there as "Gianna". He seemed very upset and uneasy. He did not greet me. I gave him a quiet thank you when we had completed our transaction with him keeping silent and staring with disapproval. Today I went back in, and was open about who and what I was. He relaxed and was friendly again as if nothing had happened. He knows my mother and the woman I am attending. lol a small town outs me regardless of my desires. I will dance the social dance and let the stares fall as they may. As Mrs. C______'s attendant I will be in social settings that were not a part of my life before. Strangely enough I am emboldened in my own security of self.
Click to expand...

Rock on, chickie, rock on!
 
Painting our lives


I have been in the company of older women lately, my mother and another older friend of the family who has adopted me as a companion. My friend recently was diagnosed with cancer and is being admitted into hospice.
In my visits with her I have been listening to the many stories she has of our older local community. It is so sad that someone so full of the essence of what was must leave us. With them, the color of the past disappears, leaving only a few random official accounts.

She was witness to so many lives in an exciting time with her association with her husband’s family medical practice. Colorful stories that fade and pass away with each loss of the participants. Until only a faint memory if any remains.
We all bare witness to our times and to the people in our lives. Without our paints and paintings who will remember? Countless stories all fade to oblivion with the passing of our elders and our peers.
Don’t be afraid to break out the paints and cherish those moments of lovely color, each memory a composition on the fabric of time.
 
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Tonight I met a man, a full blown romantic, full of phrase and wonder of the life he had shared with his light. I saw the poetry
Of twenty years of the love for his wife expressed never ceasing only growing through time. Tragedy had taken him and his sons and snatched her away in a quick terminal illness. Leaving only love unrequited painted in memory of her.
I cannot imagine being loved so deeply but in him I saw a kindred spirit,
One that in his fierce beauty paled my own light and awed me for he had expressed what I would have and what I felt and kindled in a love that would be eternal. Bless them all. Bless his heart.:heart::rose:
 
sitting on a bench on the pier
I watched the wind and waves
on the lagoon.
As I watch mullet jumped
one here, one there
long flying leaps of 5 or 7 feet.
their silver sides catching
the setting sun's light
simmering bright and wet
The cool wind blows around me
accompanied by the splashing
of the water.
I close my eyes and dream.
 
Alienation, lost in the familiar
Somewhere my childhood was lost
My sense of wonder tainted by bias
Always uneasy, never fitting in.
Was I always alone?

Dancing, through the years
Flirting eyes that caught at my heart
Unworthy, the beauty is there
But not within me.
I am ugly and down trodden

Clarity, crystalline acuity
All is revealed in a contrasting
Dark and light vision
Self honesty, wounds and heals
In a perilous journey
Of self determination.

Love, the grace that springs
From within my heart.
Acknowledgment, of another
Spirit welcome within my light
Touching that which sees
Beauty in awe and joy.
 
The Storm
The wind dries my tears
While the waves wash
Away the stains of my past.
Often I would sit in times
Of trouble and let nature
Purify my troubled spirit.
Fairy Terns, white against
A gray sky, beat their wings
Dipping in flight to the stormy
Waters scooping up their treasures,
Small fish, sustenance.
For me the elements swept
Me clean and allowed me
To glean My dream, my soul
From the effigy Of my life
Soiled with the lies
Within my tempestuous heart.
 
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Perched in the early morning hours
Remnants of sleep drift away
With my strong cup of coffee.
I am left with my thoughts
Of yesterday filled with anxiety.
My fears crowd my mind
Jostling the words there
Staining them with terror.
I cry, they are unbearable.
Seeing the depth of my
Dysfunction and chaos
Brings me to a dark place
Where hope falters and beauty
Is waylaid by the maleficent
Dialog of hopelessness.

It is not that I cannot see
But that I see too much
I see the bigger picture
The unbearable reality
Of the modern world.
The works of pride
And ego and all
It’s hateful destruction.
In all of this
People of good heart
Work and shepherd the world
Applying their salves
To the wounds of reality.
Without such all would be lost.
On a smaller scale I seek
To make the world a better place.
In recognizing the hurt
And sorrow of my fellow man.
Timidly I act according to my nature
In so bless whom I can
With the gentle grace that God gives me.
So that I might touch them
With the purity of my intent
Of love for the world.
There are harbingers
Of cynicism that see
Me as a flawed creature.
They distort my deeds
To their destructive thoughts.
And in my weakness I let them.
I have always known me
The gentle child. I allowed
The world to defy myself
And to become lost
In the Jungle of inadequacy
And hurt.

Soon the sun comes up
I will play music
To the growing light
Of a quiet morning
And kiss the day
With hope and sweetness.
May I paint reality
With soft bright colors.
And caress all with God’s love
In the flowing notes
That fill the morning.
May I transcend my darkness
And light the dark places
In my soul to be bountiful
In the world in a beautiful
Metamorphosis that graces
All.
 
"m" is mysterious I sit here and Muse
Is she a he or a she?
I say she, but who would know?
Mild she touches my mind
meandering, I examine her words.
My! what depth!
She guides me through my mess.
with words of truth.
I am a toddler, I stumble,
yet still she is carefully mindful
of my naivete.
Oh "m" I must say to thee
How precious and lovely you are to me!:kiss::heart::rose:
 
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mismused said:
*"Knowledge is the alchemy of change"*

I am convinced that we are a possible of many possibilities, an everflowing series of events that, when they reach certain proportions, are given to be able to know, to be nature's helpers, and in the process; to grow their selves (us, maybe, I hope?). To me, how wonderful that is. The more I learn in harmony with others like you, dear lady, the more I grow within what nature had me be in body and mind. Would that the world could all seek to know, to grow, to be filled with the wonder of being, and not just content to languish in what we think we have of our silly wealth, when it is the experiencing of life and its possibilities that await us, that can fill us so beautifully in every way.

Please go on experiencing what you know is within you, to aid nature to be as it is. Tis not nature that errs, but the circumstances of our dual being, our bodies versus our knowing self that grows on a separate, greater, path, two of life's bringing together of possibilities; nature's way of helping us learn and develop who we can be, but then that's all of our existence: becoming who we can be--that's who we are, changing moment-to-changing-moment, we, too, always changing.

Nature never makes a mistake! It just seems to fuck up when what we'd like, what we expect, is not given as we wish for. :)

P.S.: Not all is to be known, else we no longer need to be. To know all is to be at the end of nature's need for us to know. Now how blah would that be? Oh, and notice that it's the little m, save when it's to be A. Mistory. :D (The end of this too boring piece of writing, but I can't help it, you make me think. Thank you for that. :kiss: :rose:)

P.P.S.: And don't listen to Misty, she's just some silly girl in love with a gorgeous, sexy, and too hot woman--just like she is--that muddles her mind. (Mm, love redheads)
Click to expand...

Okay if that muddles the mind how come I am muddled without being in love *sigh* Lol Boring? Never! :kiss::rose:

It scares me that I can understand what you are saying sometimes. but the following is beautiful in it's statement.

"Would that the world could all seek to know, to grow, to be filled with the wonder of being, and not just content to languish in what we think we have of our silly wealth, when it is the experiencing of life and its possibilities that await us, that can fill us so beautifully in every way."
 
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Much to my astonishment I have two members of my family calling me by my female name. My brother and his wife came into town, the rest of the family has refused to address me by my female name. I have not pressed the issue but once I officially change it I will insist. *sigh* It is such a relief. They see the logic, if someone asked to be addressed a certain way, it is only logic to do so because of common courtesy. So now I have a sibling calling me Gia.:):cattail:
 
My oatmeal only breakfast did not last by 2PM I was starving, I had the money so I went to the Chinese buffett. A younger woman opened the door for me. "Good day Mam" I had a moment of confusion, not too long ago I was the one opening doors for people. I gathered myself and walked into the Restaurant. The hostess recognized me, "won?" The Chinese woman asked me. I said yes. She showed me to my table and brought me water. After wandering the buffet tables I sat down and proceeded to eat my fried dumplings, fried rice and pineapple shrimp *sigh* too much. But I controlled my impulse for a third helping.
The climax was the fortune cookie that came with the end of the meal. In it the slip of paper read. "Fright is good fortune, it is an opportunity to learn."
Immediately my mind tried to make sense of it. For me it was the thing which kept me from finding myself as I darted from dark spot to dark spot through out my life. Fear raised my anxiety level and in my own poverty I stayed rather that risk that bold move which would give me life and remove me from the strange world of avoidance. But, on the other hand, Would I have been me had I conquered my fear at an earlier time in life? With each failure to overcome I shamed myself, again and again, certainly the world jumped in accompanying and lambasting me with it's own judgment. Is it any wonder I am small and hurt at any slight judgment?

Now I am finally moving away from the pattern. For one thing I have stopped judging my past, I cannot change what was said or done there. My self talk is different, Now instead of cringing I am saying "maybe" and accepting my humanistic failures without judgment of myself. Letting go of all that is such a blessing in many ways. Now the toxic people have no power.

Fear is a teacher? Maybe Maybe.
 
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Oh what stories the older woman tells me of her past. Her love, the son of a postman who traveled the rural route with his father sometimes. He spotted her and knew that this was his love, his life. He was a bright man, he put himself through medical school and moved to old Florida. Old Florida differentiates from modern by the shear grandeur of nature. Miles of uninhabited windswept beaches. Wide open space dominated the huge swampy marshes of the Everglades or the St. Johns River floodplain used by the Ranchers. The towns had streets lined with live Oaks and Cabbage palms. The houses had long long shaded porches.

They raised their children and ran a family practice, there was no hospice in those days, many doctors did not want a dying patient. Word got around of the Doctor's compassion. The terminal patients came to the office as long as they could, and when they could not, the good Doctor made house calls.

In those days Cuba was open, one weekend after just a little drinking the crowd took a plane and flew to Cuba and spend the weekend in festive celebration, casinos, shows, moonlight beaches.

Just a small sampling of the richness of a life time. I adore her.:heart: I told her, I hope your daughter is writing down your stories. :rose:
 
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The light penetrates the canopy of the Giant Ficus high lighting the graceful palm leaves, a bright green and silver. The wind moves playfully waving gently the foliage. Inside is a family home scattered with mementos that represent time. Each item tied to a memory and a story precious to the owner. The faces of the young hang on the wall, they are no longer young but tied to remembrance they remain so. Smiling through the abyss of time. Quietly the clock ticks, the fronds wave through the window in their splashes of light. A butterfly flies by. Softly the morning passes.
 
Decided to go out for a drink last night. I go to the local gay bar because it is safer for me. No one talks to me. But I do like to watch the crowd. There are two gay men that come in that have the most beautiful smiles. I always recognize them by their illuminating presence. I sit at the bar itself and watch people coming and going for drinks. The music is a pounding rhythm, two men and two lesbians are moving to the beat. Music came up that I could have danced too, I was too afraid even though likely I would be the best dancer there I did not want to draw attention to myself. Dreaming I see myself out on the dance floor playing with the music, living the music.
The place is filled with a potpourri of people from ugly to strikingly beautiful. One woman moved up to the bar to get a drink. I studied her, she had a familiar look to her. I wondered if I knew her from some where. She was lovely and caught me studying her, being shy, my eyes fell and she caught my smile and nature. She beamed warmth across the bar in a wonderful presence. I smiled back. Being shy is a hell, that is as far as it went. I love people, most of the time I just do not know how to express myself. But time and again my heart has stopped with a look and a smile directed at me. And always I go ahome alone missing my love who still holds my heart in her hands. I still remember the dance of intimacy after all these years in a new love. I long for it, I crave it. But always the same face fills my eyes.:heart::heart: Will I always live with longing?
 
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Why do I do this? It is the recognition of troubled souls like myself.
Particularly the young ones, they are the most vulnerable. They are so bereft of trust you offer them friendship and they go. Fuck you! Then beg you not to leave. It requires focus to remember that there is a child under all that pain, angst and anger. For they do get abusive, it is almost a certainty. I offer unyielding compassion, a commitment to the person within and the flower that struggles to emerge. It means having your shields up and never personalizing the vehement reactions. So it is with my chatroom. My devotion is to my children. If I help one soul, it is worth it.
 
Another transsexual has fallen in love with me. This one is different. Had we been in the room together we would have ended up in a delicious cuddle filled with soft talk and laughter. What is different about her, is that she seems to see me and I her although she was much more secretive than I. I know nothing about her other than my response and instinct. Is she what she seems?:heart::rose:
 
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