"maybe people only ask you how you're doing cuz it's easier than letting on how little they could care"

~ Jackson Browne

I feel that way a lot deep down, but I still hang on to hope that people can really care deeply and meaningfully about all the mundane details I think about constantly and that's why I write so much because someday someone is going to want to know it all and I won't remember it all so I'll hand than a thousand handwritten books and a zillion pages online and say "if you really care to know, read this"...

and you think you're strange? :)

that was a note or comment I left somewhere sometime this week (and someone knows I changed it slightly because I can, because I care, and because I got the quote wrong the first time... and the song rushes back to me now as Precious and Stew {oh no, another song just stumbled into my brain and has me laughing to tears, but we'll leave the moments we two can share for another time as I was getting to some point that is giggling away even as I try to grab it by it's wiggly things and pull it back into the focus place in my head... shhhh, we all know better, we just act like we don't sometimes cuz it's more fun that way... deep breathes and out of this parentheses} and into another... I was about to say I was recalling the depths of a song I misquoted in the original note because Precious and Stew are having the fun that only best friends can have and their giggles are permeating the place, right through the walls...

that's the next line in the song... how is your recall?... rather than have your searching online or racking your brain, it is The Late Show from one of my all-time favorite CDs... that you can look up if you want to scratch the surface of the depths (what, you thought I'd make everything easy... you oughta know by now)...

it is that one true friend who satisfies the hungers that keep you circling and searching (or at least that one true friend who circles right along with you, understanding the quest... mine?... might be impossible, or so they say, but I'll never believe it) that knows, that understands, that shares the moments and makes everything easier, sweeter, more wonderful and colorful and beautiful and real...

and until we find such a person we can call our very own bestest best friend, we wander semi-aimlessly (or even quite aimlessly) from one thing to another trying to hang on the a four-handled ride with our two hands...

or something like that...

maybe it was the drugs... I remember sitting around and getting stoned with my best friend and sharing the moments and experiences and feelings and there was nothing quite like it... something that may not have words to adequately explain it and yet, the unmistakable clarity of seeing the look in another person's eyes when the connection is made (and in truth, drugs were always optional, for in as much the bond was more physical when passing something from lips to lips, as in a peace pipe ceremony, the mental connection did not require a kiss... ah, but a kiss is good too)...

maybe it's an oral thing... can we look at life in oral stages... be start with our hands and anything we can get our hands on... then we move on to foods and in most cases, sweets... then there's kissing when suddenly we find puberty kicking and screaming to get out and be satisfied... if we're lucky, kissing lasts a long time... if not, there's always chocolate...

I think I'm in the chocolate stage... but if this is some sort of oral developmental stage ladder scale thing, I'd sure like to regress back to the kissing part (that phrase brings The Princess Bride to mind...

I may have gone back too far...

but then again, I started very young, but that's another story... what was the point of this entry, anyway?... ah yes, the pits of despair that can lead us far far away from any good sense or security or optimism we might have once had... hopefully none of you have experienced years of lonely wandering wondering if anyone will ever understand the experiences you've been through and the reasons you hesitate or are unsure of trusting or bonding or even being yourself...

actually, most of us have gone through that... we call it childhood and adolescence... but to return (or never leave) as I grown person... to find yourself face to face with someone who somehow earned all of your trust and suddenly see that they could care less, that they were just using you for their own selfish gains, for their momentary pleasures, for their ego gratification, or maybe, in the best case of this worst case, they fooled themselves nto thinking you were the one and all along they were looking for someone else...

and you are left with scars surrounding a big empty hole that used to contain your heart, the faith in your love, and the confidence in your judgment to trust...

what do you do then?...

do you turn to other ways to test your faith (or other's faith) that are less risky, that have more of a safety net, that relies on the we're all in this together perspective?... do you turn to escapes in chemicals or casual sex or TV or work or some creative endeavor?... do you close your eyes and dive into the next person who's even the slightest bit interested in you?... do you withdraw into your own world, into a self-destructive or self-satisfying isolation that leaves you numb and feeling helpless?... do you find a way back home to yourself and start all over again?...

there's always cake and chocolate...

and I make light of the profound loss and pain that can drag on for years mostly because I have known it quite personally quite well for as long as I can remember... are you my mother? was a childhood book I related to well, being adopted... no matter how well-adjusted one becomes to the idea of being abandoned by birth parents, there's always the fact that there was something to adjust to... and then along came jones, as in an addictive personality that had no reason to conform except the threats and condemnations of people obviously ignorant and closed off from their own feelings and awareness by fear they chose to buy into before they even consciously woke up and realized they were alive... the pleasures of this life are not for children, I was told over and over again... and then the love, the loss, the wandering...

I understand cynicism and depression and death from my own personal experiences and can justify the cold numb shroud so many wear around their hearts... I choose not to...

I understand the casual laughter and aloof masks and suspicious mind sets and can accept the dark colorless world so many paint as their lives... I choose not to...

What Dreams May Come is about giving it all, giving up to trust unconditionally that someone else is there... the unconditional is for many the impossible dream... and it is where I live...

so far from the maddening crowd... yet at once at the center, part of everything... you can go into a cave and meditate for days... you can go into a church and pray for years... you can go into a daze and waste a lifetime... you can get high, get down, whip it, flip it, or dip it... you can root it, shoot it, or toot it... you can get lost in obscure references and create worlds all your own... you can give yourself to others and lose whatever independent thought or identity you might have developed... you can laugh, you can cry... you can live, you can die... you can play with navel lint or as yourself why...

whatever you do, that is your choice...

wherever you go, there you are...

the answer to the question, does anybody really know what time it is? has always been the same... it is now...

what we don't know could fill a universe and then some...

what we do know can fill us with enough to give us reason to live, to love, to trust, to be together within ourselves and with others... to share life and passion and pleasure (and pain, as it is part of life as much as any feeling)... to let go of the prejudices we're taught and remember what it felt like to experience the world with an open mind... to let go of the fears we're taught and return to the freedom of exploration that depends on instinct and adaptability instead of rules and limits... to remember there is no guilt or shame in anything unless we put it there... to embrace the energy that we call life, love, trust, and the many names of gods...

every passing year seems to take use farther from this place, farther from this possibility... most accept failure and a promise of a better experience after death... hopefully it does get better someday, but why not today, why not now?...

what makes us think it'll be better anywhere else if we stay stuck in the same old mend sets that give up our potentials, that deny our possibilities, that supress, repress, and depress everything under the guise of some patronizing judgment that we are too weak or feeble or stupid or unaware to actually make decisions and express and care for and enjoy ourselves?...

excuse me, but I'm still alive...

and a life is a terrible thing to waste...

so here I am, true friend, best friend... right now I am doing the best I can to help you find me, to find you... sending out these messages in bottles in every way I can think of... looking for eye contact everywhere I go... smiling at anyone and anything that looks my way (and sometimes, just smiling because life is beautiful and experiencing being alive feels good)...

and every eye that turns away is a bite of rejection, a slap in the face of love, another reason to mistrust and doubt myself and follow the leaders into darkness and despair and false smiles... I can let each moment that is not shared eat away at my heart... I can let every second exposed to hopeful sharing become an albatross, a noose around my neck, a mark of rejection and worthlessness... I can let every lonely hour become proof that I do not deserve to be loved or trusted or respected...

I choose not to...

I choose to share... to smile... to express myself... to let my feeling out in every way I can... I choose to hold on to my dreams and know the truth that I feel inside... the love is my strength... the freedom is my power... the trust is my gift... and it is worth everything...

even if no one else ever knows...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)