I’m kind of annoyed this morning. So I’m thinking that maybe if I write it out it will help.
Well. I have been debating about posting about this because I am not sure how I feel about it. And I guess I kind of assume that the reaction will be onesided and probably rightfully so. But I also haven’t had anyone to talk about it.
My stepbrother called me last weekend and I guess he got bail and had no place to go. He asked if he could stay with me. He didn’t specify how long or the reasons although I knew through the family grapevine. It caught me off guard and I said yes. Normally, in a situation like this, he would stay at his mom’s (my dad’s and stepmom’s.) But his wife and the kids are staying there and I don’t think he’s aloud to be around them until his trail in April.
Since all this has happened. Their house has been robbed not once but twice. How do this occur? I have no idea. Were they doing things they weren’t supposed to? It’s definitely a possibility. Was it the nature of the area and the crimes he is accused of? They lived in Traveler’s Rest a very remote part of extremely conservative area in Greenville.
I’m trying to think of it as a blessing instead of a curse. There have been some positives. He did help me keep the house warm by procuring firewood. Of course, he’s also keeping himself warm. He brought with him a washer and dryer. Something I haven’t had since living with Patricia 3 years ago. He has helped me take off the trash. And has promised to help me more. He has also brought in food which I am grateful for since I have been so broke. He is messy but also seems to understand that he has to take care of himself and clean up after himself.
There have also been annoyances. He also came with two dogs. One, he has gotten rid of and the other still at the house. He didn’t really ask to bring them and I wasn’t really sure what to say. His wife has been over to the house constantly and even spent the night last night on Valentine’s day. Maybe this would be acceptable if the current situation didn’t stand.
I have forgotten how simple he is. I wouldn’t say that he’s dumb. But he definitely doesn’t think about things. He’s a big guy. A behemoth. So he is definitely an asset. But I don’t want this to be a long term solution. I’m thinking that maybe this will help us clean and organize the house. The scary part is that Linda will be retiring from Wildwater soon. So either I will need to find another job or work under someone else or apply for her job which I don’t think I’m ready for. It might be nice to get away from Wildwater. I have worked here much longer than I have anticipated.

More interesting dreams last night. I dreamed that there was this girl that needed help down the road. I was walking down the road and she was waiting for a plumber on the side of it. She said that she lived in the woods. I offered to help her and followed her into the woods. She was quite lovely. We came to a clearing by a stream and she went into this vertical cave. All around were these amazing little houses. They looked like little cottages but sort of old style or like they might be lived in by gypsies/hippies. There was a large red carnival tent and a ship that looked like those stereotypical pirate ships. When the plumbers arrived, they weren’t plumbers but police and they were jumping off her car which was obviously very old and was never going to crank.

I also dreamed that I was on a train. Some man, who I can only describe as my boss asked me if I put two burners on the train for the coil. I told him that I only put on and that there weren’t any more burners. So, I was off to find the conductor and make sure one coil burner was enough. I remember thinking that I was in love with the conductor and I kept trying to talk to him and catch up to him but he would never listen to me or give me time to talk to him.

The first dream seems to be about getting in touch with myself. Bringing the authorities to my inner sanctum. A combination of two worlds in some way.

I often wonder what connection my romantic relationships have to my familial relationships. I am not close either to either one of my parents and oddly enough the only person I really have any relationship with at this time is my stepmom. I want to talk about my dad though. I don’t ever remember connecting with him in a meaningful way. I don’t know that it’s my fault or his fault. I think in some ways, he rejected me just as I rejected him. I think in some senses he was embarrassed by my obvious femininity and perhaps that’s why as an a adult my masculinity is more important to me. He’s not really a talkative person and we don’t really know what to say to each other.


I’ve had some pretty messed up dreams in the last week.

For 3 nights I had dreams about ménage a trois. Each one focusing on different aspects of a relationship with different couples I already knew. The first one, I was in love with a guy and watched his relationship crumble although I got the feeling that I could have been of some help but refused and watched him suffer. In the 2nd, a guy was grooming/trimming my facial hair while we were both nude when his partner came “home” to my house and walked up behind me and embraced me in a very intimate way. The third, I was at the beach in a condo with a couple while it rained and was complete carnal lust. Usually I have some insight into my dreams. The feelings give away their meaning. I don’t really know where these came from.

I had the thought the other day that triads often represent the male version of the maiden, the mother, and the crone. They often consist of guys that have significant age gaps. And in a way, when they are in relationships with these others, they are in a sense, loving other aspects of their life. In effect, loving themselves at different stages of their life.

I dreamed that I lived with Scott and his parents. I slept with Scott in the attic and shared a bed with him and his brother who was not his brother but my friend Michael lawing’s brother. Which after some thought, I realized was probably a representation of Bandit our dog who would always sleep with us. There was something about a tree but I can’t remember. I remember his mom saying that she had to go to work. She often talked about her work with pride.

I also dreamed that I was in Melinda’s house. It was dark and there were no lights on. We, me and someone else, who I can only think would be Melinda’s son Josh, who we often did things together that were naughty. The inside of the house had been redone immaculately. There was a wooden pipe organ in the game room and all around were these tiny figurines. They looked like clowns or maybe faces, but their faces had been cut out and replaces by jewels. The house has this creepy 1970’s pea green carpet that was completely illuminated in the darkness. Some people went into another room and were sucked into something screaming. What they described as hell. But I could only sense it.

I have often wondered what my version of heaven or hell would be like. I used to think that my hell would be something similar to what I live in now. And at one point, in college, I considered that perhaps I was a demon being punished in some kind of hellish world for all the unknown atrocities I had committed. Sometimes I still wonder if I am in hell.


I have to start pouring some of these thoughts out of my head before I go insane. Already, I feel a sense of relief just starting to flow throughout my body, giving me goosebumps. So much has happened in the last years since I have written in this blog. Destruction and resurrection. Love and love lost.

Again, It is in the changing of the seasons that I find myself soon to be adrift. The cycles that tend to follow me and I suppose those that follow and crash into everyone else. I don’t know why I say myself so quickly but it is the local view that I have. That my skin is somehow more susceptible to change.

Scott has found his way back to Florida with his family. At times I miss him. I miss him so generously. And yet I am still glad that he is gone. It could not be.

I have quit smoking. And after months of going off my medication, I have started back on it. If at any time I felt bipolar, surely I feel that way now. During the day I am mostly fine. I go home and I exercise. I feel good and I turn my wheel and then as I lay trying to sleep. What vicious thoughts come. Failure, the sense that I am small and unworthy. These thoughts seep into my dreams like oil into the ground. And I wake up, not refreshed, but hating myself and the world. Some days are more powerful than others.

Only recently have I been able to battle these thoughts. A friend of mine calls them demons. And whether they are literal demons or not I guess it makes no difference. They are one and the same. There have been many reliefs. I crave cigarettes but I ignore them. I am trying to eat better with vegetables and plenty of water, vitamins, exercise, medication, and finally my spirit. I have been listening to a gentleman named Alan Watts.

My skin again feels alive simply at the thought of his teachings. I do not quite agree with everything and in a way I feel like my disagreement is perhaps, ignorance.

My thoughts on THE SOUP:

The Soup is what I refer to as the other me. It is the godly me. It’s where I came from and where I will return when I die. It is where I go when I sleep….the sleep without dreams. The darkness that comes when I close my eyes. Much like reality, dreams are created from the soup and my memories. Basically, it is everything, It is also nothing. The whole of duality, reality, and whatever there is and isn’t. When I think about Alan Watt’s teachings this is how I envision it. It’s like the ocean or space. I take comfort that everything and everyone comes from The Soup. And you can drink from it.

I have considered that sin, is when the body is craving God. But reaches in the other direction. It is the only way I can define what is sin and what is not sin. It is, like all things, personal and subjective.

The thing that I have struggled with in Buddhism, is the concept that I am God. I don’t believe that I am God. I believe that God is part of me and that I am part of God, but I do not belief that there is an equal sign there. If I was God, I would change things, I would have ultimate power or be able to control things in some manner which I currently and never have been able. Instead I do see how perceiving can be a way of creation. Creating and perceiving at the same time is an interesting concept. And it’s something I consider in anything creative I do. But I suppose in either there is not much control over what is being created. Which seems kind of off.

If I am God and everyone else is God, then isn’t it just a problem of scale? If we are all God or all human what does it matter except for that sense of scale?

The practice does give me comfort. It allows me to open my eyes and see beauty in a way that I have been unable to for the past few months. My love having been separated from me. All my love is empty, needing to be replenished. For months and still now I have struggled with hatred, spite, and anger. I find myself able to release feelings. A way to detach myself from them. It allows my negative thoughts to dissolve. And it is here, that I find peace.