The Juxtaposition of the Mind

Shhh... I have a secret.  I don't know if I should tell you.  A secret is supposed to stay inside right?  

*looks around*

I don't see anyone else here.  Do you?  Maybe I can tell you.  

Can you keep my secret?  

Will you swear to never tell a living soul?  

*looks around again*

I'm not sure if I can trust you.  You look shifty.  You look like you're salivating at the thought of knowing my secret just so you can tell someone.

Hmmm ... 

I think I will tell you.

You see there is this thing that I am going through.  It's maddening at times to deal with.  

This is big stuff now. 

You can't tell!

Aww forget it... 

You've already got your hand on your phone to text my secret to your friends.

*.... sigh .... *

Pretty Me

 "No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl.  All little girls should be told they're pretty, even if they aren't."

- Marilyn Monroe -

It isn't just little girls that should be told they're pretty.  Being told that does marvelous things to the psyche and ego.  

I woke up this morning and stared at my reflection in the mirror.  I can't say that I was pleased with what I saw.  My hair was veering off in different directions.  I still don't know what the hell my hair was doing during the night.   My face had lines on it courtesy of my pillow.  My eyes were puffy and, let's face it, I looked like hell. 

 I swear in my heart of hearts that I looked like that all day.  I swear I could feel my hair giggling as it tried to slide to the opposite side of my head.  The bastard strands were trying to mock me!   My eyes, even at this time of night, still feel puffy from last night's sleep, if you could call my whopping three hours of rest sleep.  I can't.  I won't.

I hauled my rear into the grocery store to pick up something for lunch.  I wasn't sure what I wanted, but in my sleep fuzzy mind, I found myself walking toward the deli counter.  I spotted a man of about 24 years old rearranging bowls of salads underneath the glass.   I watched as an older woman called him over to her to discuss their hot soups.  While they talked, I debated with myself.   What should I have?  What should I get?  A salad?  Deli meat for a sandwich?  

I was practically slowly spinning around in a circle trying to decide.  The deli counter was in front of me, and premade salads were behind me.  Oh what to do... what to do?

"Can I help you?"

Yep, I was snagged by the 24 year old deli worker.  I turned around and .. *ahem* ... he was very nice looking.  

Hey, I am married but I sure as heck am not dead!

I guess I made up my mind.  How could I possibly resist the killer smile on a 24 year old man?  I wouldn't/couldn't dare!   

We bantered back and forth.  Saying silly things, mock insulting each other and doing a whole lot of smiling.  I blushed and giggled like a 13 year old school girl.  I couldn't stop myself either.

I was in lust.

Hey, I'm human! 

We talked for a bit.  Hey, the store was dead.  I felt I looked like crap.  He was dreamy, funny and did I mention he had a killer smile?  

Okay, I guess I'm admitting to have a brief crush on a man young enough to be my son.

Oh God, I had to say that, didn't I?  

Well, it certainly ruined it for me.  The fantasy has been crushed beneath my own two clumsy feet.

Well.. not totally crushed.. 

I left the store walking on a cloud.  It isn't often that I can look like total crap and yet feel so utterly beautiful.  

Today I felt beautiful.  

Tonight, I still feel beautiful, because I am.  

I am 44 years old.  I have small wrinkles around my eyes.  I have lines along my mouth from laughing over the years.  My skin isn't as taunt as it once was.

But you know what?

I'm one of the most beautiful women in the world.  I'm sexy as hell.   I could turn on a man or a woman, if given the chance.   I'm smart, funny and pretty. 

I'm passionate, alive and gorgeous.

Yes, it is important to tell someone they are beautiful.  It's important to feel beautiful.  

I feel beautiful.

I am beautiful.

 

Sinful Words

 

Delicious words tumble from my fingertips as I slave over my keyboard.  Furiously pounding away on the keys as sweat beads upon my upper lip.  Words coming faster than my thoughts can truly process.  Undulating letters slinking together and forming beautiful sensual words.  Words that will tease and entice.  Words that will awaken desires and stir within the loins.  

Tightening and releasing.  

Panting and breathing heavy.  

Words.  

Deliciously sinful words.

Words that will truly never mean the same to every person.  Words that come from the inner recesses of my mind, body and soul, yet words that will fall flat to the eyes that drink in their sight.   Empty, meaningless words to all but me. 

Words strung together and holding fast like two lovers intertwined in a passionate embrace as their bodies move together as one.  Words that awaken my soul and makes my warm skin tingle with need, want and lust.   Words that leave me breathless and aching for the sight of a lover.  Words typed at an uncontrollable pace which mimics the speed of my breath and the rise and fall of my chest.   

Faster, faster the words come as my soul is spread open wide to accept what is offered to it.  

Faster and faster until I cannot take anymore.

Faster... faster... 

Words that are strung together like a pearl necklace given to me by my lover.   They caress my skin with every movement of my quivering body.  

Sinful words.

Words with depth and meaning.  Their depth is unknown as they flow from me toward you.

Words that mean nothing to no one except to me. 

Words that leave me utterly spent and satisfied.

Words that leave you empty.  

Words.  

From me to you.

With love. 

Changing Into Alone

 

Warning:  This blog may contain moments of vulnerability.  If this frightens you, please feel free to vacate the premises.  You will, however, still be charged the usual $5.00 entrance fee.

I am finding that as I age, I have a strong preference for being alone.  I can honestly say that I allow very few people into my "space" anymore.  I could probably count on one hand how many people are in my circle of trust.  It is done purposely.  

With intent.  

The cabin depicted above is an ideal place for me.  I could awaken when I wanted, sleep when I needed to and dream of things I wish I possessed.   Noise would not live here with me, aside from the stray animal cracking a branch as it walked, a bird singing carelessly in a tree and, perhaps, a beaver gnawing on a tree.  If I were truly lucky, there would be a lake situated in front of the cabin so that I could casually run my bare toes over the water.  I could lose myself in the ripples on the surface that my toes would make.  

I suppose that I am stuck in a fantasy.  A dream land, which at this present time, I cannot escape from.  

 There is a reason why I'm longing for those moments of solitude.  I desperately need time to cleanse my mind and rid myself of the emotions that live within my soul.  I need to separate myself from those who feign care, love and compassion.  I have no tolerance of falseness.   

I'm not a "people person".  I have never worn that label on any level.  I'm shy most times, and have an awkwardness that lives within me.   I broach people with a hesitation while wondering if their extension of friendship is true.  Most times, I am finding, it is not.  

I long for honesty.  I long for truthful feelings and for sincerity.  I would rather be alone than to surround myself with people that lack a genuineness.   

The cabin looks damn good right about now.

It looks good always.

 

Life Is Not Perfect

There is a reason why this blog is titled "Between Heaven and Hell".  The reason is that conscious decisions are made with good intent.  I try to choose wisely and think of the consequences.  If you notice,  I said "try".  I am not infallible.  I make mistakes.  I skip along the coast of evil on occasion. I admit it.  

I do believe in God.  I believe that He exists.  My relationship with God is very personal and I do not tend to share that with anyone, at least not to any great extent.  I'm not filled with shame for having a relationship.  I am not embarrassed to admit it, however I feel I would be exploiting that relationship if I were to shout it from the rooftop.  It would lose depth and, quite possibly, meaning.  

Regardless of my beliefs, I am human.  I am not perfect.  I bleed.  I make mistakes.  I have lapses in judgment.  I hunger for things I should not want.  I crave the taste of things that should never pass my lips.  I judge people and speak of them.  I have broken a commandment or two or three.  I swear and talk like a sailor on occasion.   At the same time, I like to consider myself a devout follower.  

It's a strange concept to sin and yet consider oneself to be devout.. or is it ?

The most common fallacy that people tend to have is that Christians are supposed to live cleanly 100% of the time.  If this were the case, I would be in a heck of a lot of trouble!   The truth of the matter is that none of us - even "Super Christians" - are perfect.    Not one single one of us.  

I do what I can, and stumble when I do.  I pick myself back up, dust myself off and look upward to say, "Boy, I really messed up, didn't I?"  I am confident that He shakes his head at me and wonders if I will ever get it right.  

Maybe one of these days I will, but I doubt it.  I'm going to keep on stumbling, skinning my knees and looking upward for a hint of forgiveness.  I'm going to keep wanting what I can't have, hunger for the taste upon my lips and wait for lightning to crack down upon my rear.  

Life is what you make it.  It is not perfect and neither is any of us.  Am I wrong for believing as strongly as I do while skirting along the edge of Hell?  I am sure that most Christians would say that I am, but what I do, how I feel and how I nurture my relationship with a God who forgives, shakes his head in disbelief and laughs is truly my business and His.  

Just as your relationship with Him is your business - whether that relationship is budding, growing or lifelong.  

Crossroads of Pi

Life has me standing at the beginnings of these three roads, unsure of which avenue to take and afraid of each one of them.  In a matter of mere minutes (it seems), my life has been tossed up into the air and has fallen back to earth to scatter around my feet.  I watched it happen.  I watched the pieces which had made up my life slowly dance their way toward the ground.  It was as if it all happened in slow motion.  As if it had been a dream..

A dream it wasn't.  A dream it isn't.  A dream it shall never be.

I was situated quite securely in my roles in life.  I performed my duties with the determination of a solider intent on winning the war.   I plodded through my responsiblities with frustration, irritation, aggravation and joy.   The joy came at the tail end of the madness.  The joy made the craziness worth it all.

But now.. now  I no longer have most of those responsibilities.  The ones that I do have left I am finding that my passion for them has waned to a degree.  I must be fair.  It has waned a couple of degrees.  I am not sure where the passion went.  It left me like a lover on a cold winter's night.  I'm left shivering and wondering how to fill my soul with warmth and passion.

I am trying to find a way to make this standstill a blessing in disguise.  I'm trying to find a way to realize that I am being given a second chance.  I can start over again.  I can do things right.  I can do it.  I just need to find the drive.  

My soul craves time to myself.  After being strapped to my responsibilities for the past four years, I want to stretch out my wings, feel my muscles loosen up and I want to fly.  I want to fly above the clouds and look downward.  I want to see what exists here, because those four years were spent with my head hung down low.  I never lifted my head to take a good look around.  

I want to go to a carnival and run from rigged game to rigged game, never winning but laughing at my attempts.   I want to explore an old farm and jump into a hay pile, and I want to feel my nose crinkle up as the scent of the animals assaults me.  I want to ride in a convertible with the top down and scream out songs playing on the radio at the top of my lungs as the wind whips at my hair.    I want to grab the hand of a lover and run along the shoreline.   I want to write that book that I've always wanted to write.  I want to do so much before I take the steps toward the next chapter in this book called "Life". 

I suppose that we all wish for the chance to truly live life before putting on that backpack full of responsibility.  

So I'm standing at the crossroads.  

Before I take the deciding step, I want to tap dance a little at the beginning.    

Anyone care to put life on hold for just a mere minute to join me?  I always hated dancing alone.   

 

 

"It's in her blood
Hungry love
Back in the woods in a shotgun shack
Right above the railroad tracks" 

- Jessica Andrews

 

 

I often spend time walking these railroad tracks.  When my life feels as though it has no direction, I walk these very tracks to try and find the way.  It doesn't always work.  I often leave feeling the same or sometimes even worse.   Like now.. 

 

Life is where it's supposed to be right now.  Vacation planning, returning to school, family.  It's all the way it should be.  It's moving in the right direction with the exception of one thing... 

 

Just one single solitary thing.

 

It's the constant reminder that it does, in fact, exist. 

 

It exists.