No Guarantee

No Guarantee: One Room

It was coming for her once again. Another moving truck. A smaller one this time. It was only for her things.

It was coming to take her back.

She knew that it was what needed to happen, it was a fitting end to this part of the journey. It seemed, every year, the reset button controlling her life was pushed as if someone was getting bored with the channel.

The mistake that she made was thinking that the end game was here. A place where shining lakes and mountains surrounded her, a place that she wanted to make her home.

But no. Not now.

it all fit in one room. That was her collection. One room full of clothes, dishes, photos, cleaning supplies, and random oddities from her short life. She thought it was slightly laughable. “I amount to one room.” One room. One moving truck. Going back.

This was the something that she knew was coming. It was August, the time of change.

She had franticly striped the walls, stacked the dishes and hung the clothes just to get it out of her site. Out of his way. She thought this hurried action would impact him in some way. It was her statement. “Your life will be blank,” it was supposed to say to him when he returned. But it only made her feel more alone when she was done. All of it in that one room.

Two blankets and a pillow were waiting on the sofa. Yes, they were warm. No, they were not what she wanted.

(One His Night Stand. Not eloquent by any means)

This time next week I will be out of your life. Because you wish it to be so; I will leave you your life and I will try to begin mine again. I will hurt for a long while because of the emotional investment I placed with you. I would have followed you anywhere. You took me to places and let me be a part of an adventure that I only hope someday to continue with you. I am just sorry that I could not meet your expectations in some of the areas that you needed at this time in your life.
I respect that you need to build your relationship back with your father. Family is important and I wish you the best in that venture.
You know I wanted to build a life with you and I thought we were working to that. I know that you are a worthy person and I will always hold hope that I will see you again and that you will feel for me what you once did. You will always be part of my heart. I gave it to you fully and I also hope that you will one day realize what kind of person I see when I look at you. You are kind, and have a caring gentleness that has yet to be explored. You truly were a person that saved me when I was at a low point in my life and I will remember our times of love with fond sadness.

Despite my sadness at this adventure’s end, I am yet, still thankful for the time that you have given me to be part of your journey.

Be well and find happiness. My only other wish is that someday we can revisit what we once had again perhaps when both of us are more ready.

I thank you for the moments of profound joy that I had with you. I was able to love and care for you unlike any other person before you. You game me some of my happiest moments. For that I am most grateful.

My love and my heart with you

Random Silliness: Snark-Factor

Looking Into the Folds

I am fortunate enough to have a mother that gifted me with not only the love of travel, but also the ability to get out and “do” at an early age. As a gift for my graduation, she was kind enough to plan a trip the United Kingdom. This gift has given me a lifetime of memories. Memories such as:

My first scotch egg

Walking through the sun-speckled Sherwood Forest

The moors of Scotland in their vastness and somber greenness that calms me as I picture them now

Strolling alongside the Avon after saying hello to the statues of Hamlet, sitting with his melancholy and the distraught Lady Macbeth.

Being in awe of the mossy High Crosses next to St. Andrew’s Abby as the salty sea air, dampened my hair, making it cling to my face as I stood transfixed.Carved knots in the eroded stone still moving as if they had just been hammered.

The feeling of wholeness, powerfulness there was in these mystical places I cannot and will not ever put behind me.

Those are the memories I am forever grateful.



Even with all of those snapshots I keep tucked away in my brainfiles these is still one that is forever burned into my gray matter- Forever

The Setting: Bath England.

A gray afternoon, heavy clouds, weighing down on the  lofty, stern Roman sentries lining the tops of the walls enclosings the healing hot springs. On a side street, just some direction and short distance from the local indoor farmer’s market, where the story teller had purchase a delicious boiled egg wrapped in sausage. (This was a most delectable purchase; even if it was in poor health taste, she savored it and danity wiped the crumbs from her mouth)  Also very near the iconic Georgian homes lining the streets on the upper hills. Jane Austin’s Ghost most likely sauntered along the same street in the twilight of Spring. That was what she wanted to think anyway. Across the street a group of men in muted conversation, siting lazily at their outdoor table, while they sipped with equal laziness at the pints of stout before them.

There was cause for a light sweater. The sun was not much of adversary for the bulky, rude gray masses over head, so one had to suit up before strapping on one’s camera.

The Mood: Light Hearted.

Having lunch while sitting on edge of a sidewalk planter, talking with her traveling partners. Lined up, enjoying their nutrison treasures they had each had found preferable.

The Event: Confidence In Motion: The Art of the Utter Lack of Giving Two Shits 

She came slowly. Her strides would be envied by any runway model that Paris or New York could hope to produce. It was with Conviction  and purpose that her feet were guided.  Grace most most assuredly not the word that would be attached to such a person, let us just get that out of the way right now. That is not a judgement, some people aren’t graceful, but they can be committed, and that is what she was. Now, at one time 30 years prior to this glance of a meeting my company of travelers and I had of her, she might have had a certain “something more” about her; sadly that “something”  had slipped away, without her knowing, or she didn’t want to admit that it had gone. Either way one could tell that “something” had been there. She was swat, almost toad like in nature, with a face that melted into her neck and five-feet of  nothing shoulders.  A  Brunet, and pale enough to see the blue veins under her skin.  She was dressed in the sheerest of white, too-high shorts, and a barely there white tank top that was struggling to stay in place. One more thing, ladies and gents, there was not brazier, no flopper stopper, no lifting aid for this dame’s assets. No sir, natural and gravity protected were these dangling dears that only added a new layer of movement to her already dynamic presentation.

My traveling companions saw her before me, and I wondered at their silence until time slowed down for me as she passed. I believe that as my mother was sitting next to me as we were lunching, I slowly raised my hand to her forearm in warning of what was coming. But my warning came too late. The White Lady of Bath was making her way, to wherever she made her way so smartly, and there was nothing any of us could do about it in the mean time.

As she passed there was a bright slyness to her suggesting what that “something” had been in her past. The smirk she had on her face made me realize that her intended reactions for the day had been attained — her work for that particular moment was done.

My mother stood, mouth agape, as the White Lady of Bath went boldly onward. The last sight of her was the sheer cloth giving all of us a glimpse of the suggestive thong that, at this point, kept most everything else in place…..


Elsewhere: Across the Street 

Realizing that we had momentarily been mesmerized by the sight of the White Lady of Bath, what snapped me back to reality were the gentleman across the street. For lack of better terminology, they had lost it. Upon seeing out stunned, immovable faces following her as she walked by, they too got some afternoon enjoyment. I can only guess that she is a regularly occurring pedestrian of that street those chaps had seen before; now all they do is wait for the reactions of dumbfounded tourists that happen to have the fortune to drop his or her lunch out of their mouths. That day it was most certainly me.


The Takeaway: 

I admire this woman. I don’t necessarily want to dress like her, heavens no, but there is a lot to be said in how she carried herself. I can only hope to have the confidence and self assuredness that she had in simply walking down the street. I don’t know her past, perhaps I shouldn’t even try to go there…. I might need bleach.

Still, the presence she had is what I want. Security that all I need to be is just myself– Folds and all.




No Guarantee

No Guarantee: Forced Awareness

A certain churning has been continuous the past few months. The feeling of frustration, taste of bile and lack of sleep; yes they are part of it but there is something altogether inexplicable  about all that it happening. Never in her life had she felt the doom that is currently sitting just in the periphery every morning when she jumps at the alarm, all the while trying not to expel the caterpillars that were a part of that churning in the hollow space just above the intestines. This was all new.  This was something that was eating her from the inside. This was making her sweat. Making her fill the trashcan with wadded paper paths that would not be possible.

It all rests on the question:

What is going to happen next?

Uncertainty was energizing, feeding the power of this millwheel– cachunka, sploosh, cachucka, sploosh…. on it goes.


Something was coming.


Random Silliness: Snark-Factor

Jammed: Raspberry

With a 97 MPH curveball thrown my way three days ago, my life might have to take a drastic turn. After accepting an invitation to move to Arizona a year ago only to be presented with another invitation of moving to Washington State 3 months ago by the the man I thought to be my end game….Things went south, even though I went to the Pacific Northwest.  Major face palm moment.

Funny how life can be a stupid bitch.

So what happens when you literally did not see something coming of this nature? What happens when you think you are doing well enough that the previous contingency plan had been thrown out the window months ago?

Flip the fuck out.

(At least for a day or so… Where’s my drink?)

So right now there are possibly 3 plans on the table

Best case: I’m adorable and things will be ok (Utopian world)

Heart Torn Up Along with  the Moving Paper: Finding alternative living situation and relocation

Worst Case: Moving back to the start.

Really things could quite a bit more daunting, but I have some many good friends that no matter what choice I have to make .

If anyone want to come with me if I choose to do some volunteer traveling…. Hit me up!

Here We Go

Here We Go


No Guarantee

No Guarantee: Boom Squish

“Now what are you going to do?” he asked, flatly. The question came after an avoided kiss making her more than slightly incensed. The cold question hung in the air right in the vicinity of her chest. It had  sharp point ready to pierce what was underneath it– the organ that had just also frozen in place.

She answered with her own cautious question, “About what?” Something in her started to hurt as her whole body slowed, making her feel like even an eye blink would take minutes from her, stealing the time she had alway found so precious with him.

“What are you going to do next? You said you were going to look for another position; so what are you going to do?” The distance in his voice was pushing her to an edge she had not ever wanted to revisit. She could see more sharp points sliding closer toward her with each question. He was placing the questions, one spike at a time, suspending them artfully, calculating the precise angle of impact.

“I have been looking, I gave my notice and so now, all I can do is hope I will be successful.” He had made her feel like such a child at times. Judging her and never really understanding what had occurred before she met him. He had said that there was no guarantee, in terms of the relationship, once they started over in the desert.

As the distance from him was growing the questions were pressing against skin; she wasn’t sweating, her body was growing colder with every passing second. The slow seconds that brought the feared darkness.

The conversation was a bit jumbled, a day later she couldn’t remember what eventually led to the driving blow that forced a wash of cold searing pain from her chest. The pain that slowly  started reaching her fingers, the end of her nose, her knees, her feet and the backs of her eyes. That was the place where the cold pain crystallized, the back of her eyes, causing her a moment of complete and utter terror in the blindness that was soon to be lifted. It was lifted. Melted,was more the term, as boiling hurt made the tears come.

He sat there silent, not looking at her. She was a teacher that had asked a frightened and unstudied student a question he knew no proper way of answering. She straightened with an intake of breath, preparing for the question she needed to ask, simply to confirm what was sadly the answer she didn’t want to be the truth.

Perhaps it was when she asked, “You don’t love me anymore?”


“Just say it,” she hissed through gritted teeth, fighting so fiercely not to let the frozen masses behind her gray eyes shatter and loose the hot, liquid pain.

“No. no, I don’t.”


That was the word that swung, crashing into the spiked questions that had been suspended in front of her.

It was done.

Later she realized, he had not said the words since the gas station. The arousing words stopped in the desert. She imagined them wrinkled and withered in the dust 2000 miles from her gushing, red eyes.

Random Silliness: Snark-Factor

Putting On

I saw a photo of an approximately 2 year old child dressed in KKK robes touching a Black policeman’s riot shield this morning and I couldn’t help but cry and then write. A child should not be made to to take on the beliefs of his or her parents.


Putting On

A son puts on the coat his mother gives
Tight and strange, still he’s squeezing in, because that’s what a good son does
Because she too has a covering, squeezing and hurtful wearing it with stiff pride so others see
Her mother expected it of her
Don’t question
Be closed. Stay in that ostrich spot.

A daughter puts on her father’s shoes
Heavy, cumbersome as they are
She must prepare
Laced up with the same squeezing fear
Sweaty socks at the end of her day
Make her frown and moan
Daddy, I think I made a new friend
She was nice and she lives in the neighborhood you talk about so much
You know, the one you told me was bad.
Daddy? Can she come play? Maybe i can wear my favorite shoes so I can keep up with her
We don’t want those kind of people here
You have a friend just across the street, the one with the handsome coat
His mother is a friend of mine
That is good enough
We like to stay in our own neighborhood  it’s better anyway

The squeezing isn’t noticeable

It became part of them decades ago

The heavy boots have built a foundation against change
No they say, that’s not who we are sweetheart
Stay over on this side of the street
We know all we need to know
Stop tugging at your coat
Keep your shoes tied

Random Silliness: Snark-Factor




Insecuriosity (noun, emotional place): Sate of confoundment and amazement at one’s own insecure past decisions and blindness.

Example: “Her insecuriosity got the better of her as she remembered all the times she could have chosen a different path; what a simpering, idiotic buffoon some would say.”


Curiouser and curiouser is the reason as to human motivation and psychology in general.

(Other similar musings spawned from Marriage or Something Not Like It)

Certain words can trigger a response. In my case when someone mentions my previous relationship in any way, this happens:

Someone touches me with icy fingers, my heart speeds up to the point of vomiting, while my skin wants to vibrate off all at the same time (Dramatics aside, only slightly mind you). In any case it doesn’t invoke warm fuzzy pandas drinking rainbows and shitting sunshine.

Euphoria it is not. 

This being so colorfully said with pandas…

My past was brought out of its sad little hole recently. Those things that I figured had gone on did; and still I remain in a state of slight shocked disgust, accompanied by the rolling my eyes and asking “So, what else is new?” The information was 

This lovely little birdie informed me that during the tempestuous time that was my relation with said Wonderfuck, at least that is what he probably thought of himself, he was not just wasting my time, but five others were also involved as well; one of which (said birdie) he continued to pursue even after we were married (insert feeling that was previously described). I have no ill will towards the little birdie; heavens, she’s one of the sweetest intellectuals I have ever the pleasure to meet. If anything I would like to cover his balls with chum and dip him in Dr. Evil’s laser-hatted shark tank for even propositioning her and  thus trying to use her. She was my commiserater when I had to endure a Shakespeare class that was riddled with students that constantly compared the Bard to ninjas and other ridiculous things; there is a special place in heaven for this girl, not only for being honest, but for not joining me in flaying our classmates.

The knowledge simply makes me look at my past self again (In ghetto fashion) and say:

Present Me: Girl, you’s even more of a dumb bitch than you thought. You knew you needed to rip a ho’s weave.

Past Me: But I thought I was his way out of his tortures self (Woh, woh)

Present Me:  Honey, does Emotional Vampire mean anything to you? He created drama to live! He needed sexual validation (aka: someone or some orifice on his prized dick) 24/7. You weren’t the issue, he was.

(hands the weeping girl a drink)

He conditioned me to keep coming back, to be drained. He made others feel the need to hate me for no reason, so that I would feel isolated enough to see on other option but him. There had to be control, there had to be validation that he was the better person. He made a show of how he was let down by me when I miss behaved, but heaven strike me down if I ever pointed out any wound he had ever inflicted on me. Master of the marionettes, and he was most certainly busy, six at once—emotional arrows aside, that’s actually skillful, prickish, but skillful all the same.  

But options abounded, and still I was blind—emotionally drained and blinded by what I thought love was.

(I know, don’t worry about getting out the tiny violins, I didn’t need them then; what I needed a bucket of cold water and a slap to the face.) 

And now…. For something relevant and not completely different:

Huh…Well, I guess that isn’t surprising

It really wasn’t that much of a shock after the initial reading of the message. It made more sense than it probably should have to me; all the web slinging (and by web slinging I mean: cum-shots and blow-jobs, you know the deal), was happening when I was trying to play fixer to the “helpless babe,’ Wonderfuck. But it’s neither here nor there now. I learned, I had better influences around me that motivated me to get out of just, well there is no better way to put it, a huge pile of shit.

Men and women alike can be like this. Men are not the only Asshats out there; a girl can be the life sucker or betrayer in the situation as well. Warning to those who feel drained after being with a significant other, or feel as though they have to watch them like a diabetic with a bag of Skittles. Trust is key, be upfront and ask point blank questions. Do not be the sap that I was; you are allowed to give up on people who don’t care; they have to make the decision to change.That person must want to be that better person.


 Take away from this:

  1. Do not be anyone’s emotional dinner
  2. If you ever feel like the man or WOMAN you are with cannot be trusted for any reason (except for surprise parties, those are kinda cool), run like you were just told the McRib is back (I hate them, but it seems that millions find them highly motivating.)
  3. Focus on you and doing what is right for you by being kind
  4. Go get a drink, that’s what I’m going to do right now.
  5. (Optional, but highly recommended) If you know this person give him a kick in the nuts. If you can’t use something nicely you shouldn’t get to use it anymore 😉