I’m tangled in the lengths of my own hair.
Uncertain about who I am becoming,
but, damned glad to no longer be a shadow
underlined by a whisper of sound.
I make noise now.
I curse like a sailor.
Stand and yell like a fire alarm.
Leap into the air.
Twirl in the grass.
Land in the graceless folds of my own arms
I drown myself in reams of startled laughter,
and stand like a crooked gate that’s been newly painted.
I’m tangled, but oddly satisfied.
Seems tangled is what I was always meant to be.
Sorry I’ve been absent so much. I’m working a 5 day stretch. I have Friday off though, really looking forward to it.
My Synastry research is totally amazing.
Sun Opposition Moon
Sun Opposition Venus
Sun Opposition Mars
Sun Trine Jupiter
Sun Sextile Neptune
Sun Sextile Chiron
Sun Opposition P of Fortune
Sun Trine Ascendant
Apparently I’m getting plenty of Sun. (Har har har)
Moon is even more interesting:
Moon Sextile Moon
Moon Sextile Venus
Moon Sextile Mars
Moon Trine Jupiter
Moon Sextile Neptune
Moon Conjunction Pluto
That’s what I’m working on so far.
Update: Apparently, Sun is your public face, Moon is your emotional secret self. I’m kinda happy to see the amount of positive aspects in Moon. It means true friendship and that matters quite a bit to me, given the Synastry is done with my favorite person as the other.
The negative aspects startle me somewhat, because they picked up on the areas I am working hardest to improve in myself. Interesting indeed.
Also, many of the hard aspects are positive in nature which, is kinda funny. Communication is definitely where I need a bit of work. I am quite prone to passionate outbursts without properly listening, especially in the area of criticisms. (I’m working on it!)
Some of the aspects made me blush like a tomato.
Some of them made me intensely startled and a bit wobbly in the knees. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I never expected that.
In case you wondered:
Synastry is how your aspects, patterns, and planets interact with another person.
Composite is how you are as a unit or couple. It creates a completely new Sun, Moon, etc for you as if you are one person.
To determine if you mesh well as a prospective unit use Synastry. To see how you are seen as a couple, or what you become later as a couple use Composite.
I use Astro-Charts.com
They don’t do any interpreting, just the chart itself along with patterns, aspects, and the like. Be sure to adjust it to your liking in settings. They really do an excellent job.
I also used a very specific program that charts by using the exact coordinates of your birth place and time.
You can also use Astrotheme for finding that.
I selected my favourite person for my practice learning.
I have been really studying my Synastry chart. It has some extremely interesting revelations. It helps me understand myself better and I’m learning a lot by researching Astrology more thoroughly.
If you have an interest in Synastry or Composite Astrology, feel free to use my data from my Astrology page to study it in more detail.
That’s what I’m up to this week.
I wish I could write you for real. I’d make you laugh and tell you stories. Give you someone you can talk to about everything that you wonder about.
If wishes were fishes.
Just be you.
It’s possible to dazzle me. Make me see you as larger than life. Allow me to gloss you into something I can’t ever really touch. Make me see stars. Float on cloud 9 for days and days. Turn my pulse into railway tracks and speeding buses.
I have been there before. That heady rush to see only the shiny exterior. Forgetting that the shine wears off.
The truth is, you can lie to yourself for ages and ages, before you wake to find yourself hurt because the person you imagined, was never real to begin with. You not only bought the rose-colored glasses, you didn’t even notice you’d put them on until they fell off. It isn’t even their fault, it’s yours. They deserve to be themselves. Loved as they are, loving you as you are.
I don’t want to make you walk in the patterns I create. I want you to walk on your own feet. Expecting you to be perfect makes me unable to be imperfect with you, and thus we will slowly falter. You can’t sustain perfection.
That’s not fair…to anyone.
Just be you.
Be the you I have to accept. The you I will occasionally roll my eyes at and sigh in exasperation over. The you I have to work with to get it right. The you I have to compromise with. The you I have to learn patience for. The you that I learn, bit by bit, and day by day. The enduring us.
See, you can make me blush. Make me stammer and sigh. Make me unable to stop shivering when you smile. You can make me feel all those things..but those things, they should only be the beginning. The prelude to more stable things. I like the fancy you, but I love the you that goes barefoot too.
I want more. I want you.
The you that isn’t afraid to stop being perfect. The you that makes mistakes, curses, sometimes even farts. The you that makes me work to learn you. The way you really are.
Don’t let me see you as someone you aren’t. Don’t let me lie to myself, and thus, force you to lie too.
Just be you.
Help me love more than just the you I can see right now. Help me love the you that I will eventually see tomorrow.
I’m putting together a portfolio of my writing. Blog posts, poetry, and selected chapters of my books-in-progress. I figured if I have to edit the Hamilton book, I might as well look over and spruce up some of my best pieces of writing at the same time.
I’m going to be saving up for a new laptop and possibly, a printer. I have a habit of editing my work best when I can physically hold it in my hands.
Hamilton is done, but he needs lots of TLC. I’m realizing I need some technical help. I’m pretty good with most aspects of grammar, my problems lie more in the area of sentence structure and paragraphing for dialog. I’m thinking a few self-help and guideline books are in order. Can’t get better without putting in foundation work, don’t ya know!
Anyway, those are my plans. I don’t go as fast as others, but I get there eventually. I think these days are all learning days. I wish I had more time to devote to just writing and researching my world creations. By the time I get home at night I’m usually too tired to sit at my desk. This is, of course, due to the 8 working hours and 4 hour travel time. It wears me out.
The only true time I have to work on my writing is on weekends. I took a break after finishing Hamilton, but it’s time to take the next step.
I’m an INFP
Ok, so, this personality assessment is extremely accurate to the point of freaking me out.
Umm..read it if you want to know way too much about who I am.
Ps. I think I just scared myself.
If you step, one step,
to either side,
you will find the sun.
It’s only failure if you stop here,
back bowed in suffering,
defeated by your challenges.
discover the truth of life.
If you don’t stop,
what feels like failure,
becomes valuable experience.
Life is viewpoint.
Wisdom is knowing when
to change your trajectory.
Find the sun waiting.
If you’ve never stood inside a shadow,
how can you appreciate the sun?
If you’ve never tasted bitter regret,
how can you savor the love you’ve won?
If you’ve never felt your heart break,
how will you learn that love can heal?
If you never tested your faith,
how can you trust the way you feel?
There is a purpose for every moment.
There is a reason for every doubt.
Within each person’s struggle
there is a truth that must come out.
Sometimes it’s not about appearances. The way you smile or the way you move. It’s not about money or intellect. It’s not about prestige or influence. It’s not any of those things.
Sometimes it’s about the small still voice that started things off, from the very beginning, and never stopped being true. The core truth of you that still resides within. I like you, because you are still in there. Still you, just older and wiser and perhaps, just a little less certain of things you once knew instinctively.
I know you and I don’t. I see you, but I don’t see all of you. Yet, I know enough to know that the first you, was the true you, unwrapped. I cannot forget that guy. He’s goofy and lovable. Jumps in without thinking because he just trusts that he will be understood eventually. Deep sensitivity and even deeper sincerity.
I am a fan of the very first you. I have watched you change and evolve over time. Become someone confident and secure in his own worth. Someone others regard as an expert. Someone to be respected and sought for advice. He is something amazing, this person you have become. I like him too, but I have always liked him, because he is still you, he’s always been in there, that guy, if you looked for him. People just didn’t see him at first. You polished him up, but he was always a real bright penny.
You have always been someone to admire. Kind and gentle with your words. Listening and trying to sincerely do well because you wanted to be part of the whole that was created.
Even when you were uncertain and untried. Even when you messed up and fell down. Even when you wanted to burn down the world in your pain.
You have always been my favourite person. Time changes and years pass, but some things are unchanging.
Who you are isn’t in your name, it’s in your heart. It isn’t in your resume, it’s in your history.
You are not what you do. You are, and have always been, a star.
I’m just glad that he was born.
Dear Man with 5 Typewriters,
I don’t get it, why do people take photos of you leaving the hotel or at the airport? It makes 0 sense to me. Don’t you do that stuff a lot? Like, 100 times a year or something? It’s repetitive and seriously unnecessary.
While I like to see your face, (and thus determine how you are doing) on occasion, I find myself skipping these types of photos. They annoy me to no end. These are the kinds of places I think one should be left well enough alone.
Movie premieres or some special events, sure..but…you are a person and not a thing.
I don’t get it. I wouldn’t like someone taking my photo after work when I’m smelly and really tired, I can’t imagine you would like it any better than I would.
People are weird.
Words on paper.
A pause in breath.
Tangled impressions of personality.
Locked out again.
Turning back towards a timeless tree
that held me.
Trees don’t forget.
Translate my thoughts
into something relatable
though, perhaps less haptic,
Cool green leaves,
The heart of my history.
I’m sorry but, I laughed for 5 solid minutes.
Photobombed by his own movie poster.
Dear Man with 5 Typewriters, I sat down today and wrote a friend my story. I hadn’t thought about it before, but, in order to write something down, you have to think about it first. While writing my story I thought about my story at the same time. How to explain and share what deeply affected me and also make it relevant to her, else, why tell the story at all?
Writing down my story, I realized it was a singular viewpoint, mine. I never share painful stories because generally they are about someone doing something to you, and if that person has a shades-of-grey relationship with you, they might get hurt by you being so honest about how you saw things. They mightn’t agree about that viewpoint you just shared. Mostly cause they have their own.
It’s strange, I thought to myself (whilst thinking all this stuff over) how writers (myself included in this presumptively) try to inspire someone with a story primarily written in such a way as to illicit a reaction from them. They craft it and shape it specifically to nudge people into seeing something in the way they need them to see it. It might be considered shifty, if you think about it that way, a kind-of manipulation. The thing is though, writers have to do that, write in such a way as to get at your emotions..cause that’s where the real thinking happens to people. The place they are vulnerable.
My story was crafted, but it was still my story, and still painful and truthful as I could be without breaking down into pieces I’d already done put back together. I decided to write it, even whilst uncertain about telling a story that shades-of-grey person might get upset over. Because, this is my truth, this story and my viewpoint, though it might not be their viewpoint, still matters. How can one change a viewpoint or heal, if they never express it properly?
So, yeah, stories are crafted with a purpose in mind. The writer wants you to feel their feelings, so they craft it in such a way as forces you to see them. It’s a bit raw and painful, but it has to be, to help you understand that it was raw and painful at the time they lived it. Crafted work has an unwritten code of honor that hinges on integrity. That way, though the reader knows you are leading them somewhere, they also know you are leading them there by being honest. That the story isn’t just crafted, it’s the truth.
It was insight that made me write it that way. Insight into how my pain could help heal her pain, if I explained it right. If my love came through. If she saw that it was painful to me, but I was still sharing it, because she matters. That’s why I wrote it. Because she matters and I need her to know that I have been where she is standing. My pain isn’t her pain, she has a different sort, I’m sure..but it is enough like it to have the same brand name, even if it is a different color and cut.
I shared my story, and found myself healing while hoping to heal.
Funny how that happens.
It happened slowly. Like a slow drip. A whisper, a cello, a low tone just below the hearing, but rising gently.
It had the sound of many voices. Many. They sounded like people I knew. People who loved me and wanted me to love me. It was like music.
For once, I didn’t do the practiced thing and discard their words, certain they were just being kind. I accepted. Yes, please. Thank you.
Something happened then.
I looked at my body and made peace with it. It gave me a child. It carried that child inside me, protected her, and helped me become a mother. It may not look like it to anyone else’s eye, but my body is beautiful. It did what I desperately wanted it to do. Yes, a blessing. This is a blessing some never experience. Respect for them means respecting my body for this gift.
The whispers grew louder. They started chiming in with each negative thought. Telling me to stop. Telling me to see, truly see, what I had been telling myself each day. They started telling me the opposite. When I thought negatively, they spoke positively. When I felt lost, they found me. These voices were kinda cool.
I started laughing more. Trying new things. Feeling less awkward when things went a little loopy and lopsided. I began to enjoy failing, because it meant I was trying something I’d never done before. Failure became a thing I didn’t fear. It became proof I was progressing into new territory. I was growing!
Little by little, I fell in love. With the way I cry because I care. At the way I suddenly understood that I wasn’t broken, I was mending. One is in a state of just being, the other is in a state of becoming. How I loved becoming much better!
One day I looked in the mirror, and she was smiling. I made a funny face at her and she laughed back. I realized I was happy.
I was in love, with me.
Lessons became less battles and more like vigorous challenges. Each step I accomplished became proof of my affection being true.
I love me.
Now something new is happening to me. Because I love me, I know how to love you.
I know how this thing works now.
And I have a new thing to love and heal.
This site is awesome. The premise is simple, read the first page of a book without seeing the title, cover of the book, or author, until the end, when you click to reveal it.
I’ve discovered some terrific books I’d never have considered before.
Trust me, this is one you want bookmarked.
I just added this gem to my book pile.
Check out the site and see what hidden gems you might be missing.
“It’s time to find your voice and speak your mind because you have held your opinion and your feelings inside for too long.”
Tear up your throat and bloody your lips,
if you must,
but speak, at last, speak.
and from the deepest part of your spine.
Speak with conviction,
no more dividing line.
let who you are,
be, at last,
Masks have a way of slipping.
to no longer wear one.
“Courage is fear that has said its prayers.”