Dress Sizes

There are a great many posts of late by women saying they have the blues and are feeling like their own skin is a size too small.  There is something in the air women are saying, maybe a funk has settled in, worse than the cold, harsher than the flu, debilitating like pneumonia, and that nothing is moving forward.  We’re taking steps forward, but the wind is pushing-pushing, pushing us around and damn-it, it’s taking our spirit too.  Those damn Karma fairies are holding back on the good news, a winning lottery ticket, come-hither stares from a lanky stranger, they’re holding back on all those little intangible perks in life we inhale greedily and take for granted when we’re not under that grey cloud of the blues.
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**Breathe, one, two, three, wait before jumping over the edge.**
Mine is a cursed heart and was the moment I told the tall, lanky man that I wanted to kiss him.  Who knew he’d kiss me back, or that kiss would send me spiraling out of control?  Since that moment, I took to writing love letters.  I write letters of love, of anger, or loss, of ache, or pain, and from almost the same instance, we started our love affair, I wrote ‘love me no more’ letters, and please ‘ release me letters’.  I beg him to be strong and not contact me—since I am the weaker one—but apparently he is weaker than I since he has never truly let me get too far away or go too long without pulling me back in.  He goes silent for a while, which hurts at first but I gradually resume normal breathing until he pops up in my instant message window, and we tango, spare, and begin again.

Some people blog to tell a story, to confess, to become famous, and then there are those of us who come out of the closet with their heartache with the wild notion of self-curing.  I don’t know if that will happen here or not, but there isn’t anything to be lost.

Over the edge, and damn the rules….
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I can’t see

It’s a mental state, my loss of sight.

I can’t see the end of my nose, or the tips of my toes, the battering on my heart, the lies you didn’t tell, the double entendres in your remarks, the way forward, but mostly how to understand the time we collected.

My heart tells me it was real, and that you were more than a fling, but less than a relationship,
certainly a bond, but what is the definition of something that endures probability and accumulates days and terminates at seven years.
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Before I deemed myself an artist, I was a Stepford Wife.  I put everything and everyone before me.  In my pre-artist world, I didn’t grant myself privileges of indulgence or excess.  It’s odd to admit that to myself because I have always been employed and capable of supporting myself without any help.  Referring to myself as a Stepford Wife is my metaphor for assimilating into a catatonic mental state and denying my own self a full existence.   (For the record, I have never been tall, blonde, anorexic  looking, and although once coveted, physical perfection isn’t me, and is not what my past lovers would say about me if interviewed by Barbara Walters.  They’d say, almost dazed and in a whispered voice, ’she slips into your skin’, and then they’d look down at their hands maybe touch a forearm, and then finish by saying, ’she never really leaves’.  But they wouldn’t say I was Stepford type material-physically anyway, I’m not a beauty.)
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When a part of me is hurting, and looking for comfort, or in need of inspiration, I retreat into my music collection and immerse myself in its magical healing powers.  There are as many different songs as there are moods, and depending on my need, I only have to pick.

• In need of romantic love, that is lost and found again and again, or reckless fun – Dwight Yoakam
• In need of fresh insight to the same subject – Rob Thomas
• In need of whimsy and white polyester – ABBA
• In need of love over load – Celine Dion
• In need of boosting my inner-self – ‘I’m Every Woman’ by Chaka Khan
• In need of energy when I up was too late writing – I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas
• In need of inspiration – Into the Mystic, by Van Morrison 

The mood only need manifest itself.
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