Can't help but wonder if it's all just about light and shadow. If everything is so beautiful, why do I feel so wrong? Blew up at Mom tonight...guess I wasn't expecting such a festive mood on her part. I bet her a thousand dollars that her lover's expatriot son and his babykilling wife would be showing up for the season, or the Teen Wonder, or Marcel, Therèse, Jean de Florette or his pudding-pounding ex...anyone but me. She didn't like that so much. Boo hoo. 'Tis the season for little monster-bitch me to start ruining things. YEAH. Maybe she was just pissy because I told her I'm dropping out of school. We thinks about it we does, precious, but it's time to act and in a few weeks I'll be done with all the waste and mysery and no one can blame me for anything. Independence. Time to throw in the towel. It is opportune, if you think about it. I mean, my meth-whore coworker just quit (and I call her that because she does "tricks" for meth) so I could go full-time, I know Patty the BOSS is at a loss for what to do now, super pissed that she quit...and I would pick up a second position anywhere, stay in this little apartment and have time to make it completely feng shui, save up enough for a massage certification, put in my 500 hours no-one-cares-where, and set sail in the Carribbean. Too bad I don't want to go to the Carribbean, I can't spell, and none of this will work out and I'll end up hanging myself but dying totally humiliated because I was so heavy I pulled the ceiling down. Fine, I can talk about more real, important things, like how I look terrible with bangs and how I feel really guilty about all the things I haven't recycled.Caring isn't hard, doing isn't hard, why can't we just do both? Maybe everyone else does and I'm just failing to catch on. It wouldn't be the first time. God I miss my cat. Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever be able to live together again. I can't move her around because I don't think she'd like that. I just want somwhere with a nice, sunny window seat for her to relax, a piano so I can play to her, play her song, and somewhere we can roll around in the grass together. She's such a sweetheart, and I miss her. She's my best friend and I love her and it just kills me to be without her. She purrs and talks to me and it's so soothing, and she curls up on me like she's really glad I'm there, and neither of us have ever gotten mad at the other for waking each other up. I bet the other Lex Lang doesn't whine like this on his blog.

Since when...

Since when is Christopher Berry hot?! Always knew Christine was...

Western Wind, When Wilt Thou Blow?

Wow, who knew that the guy with whom I compete for google hits is such a hunk?! Lex Lang, you dawg, you! What can I say? The sex appeal just goes with the name. Funny, he smirks, too. Ugh, terrible weather today, maybe it's fufilling someone's desire. Let us hope so. Slept over at the girls's last night, Joe included, and in the closed-off boudoir found some sort of comfort in joining the Catholic girls's evensong. Maybe it was the time of personal reflection or the unity our voices formed (despite personal timbres and qualities and energies radiating underneath) when singing the simple chants, but it was really nice enduring a few moments of peace. Prayer, Christian prayer, is just another channel. I think I forget that too often; the true messages and meanings have been totally filtered out by all the bullshit. Seven rays, seven masters, all about food in the end. Paul gave me a beautiful love letter today. I was giving him crap (in response to him giving me crap for being absent) about not writing me one during their little workshop at the post-potluck party. I must say, this document is rather paradoxical and sublime. I have to wonder if Lex Lang, or should I say, Walter Alexis Lang, ever looks me up online? In searching for myself (here in the sense of cyberspace, although I can't say that it has nothing to do with the other process) I find mostly him...does he ever find me? And what would he find? I feel as though the valuable parts of my life are not accessable through publication. Sad, really. All he'd find is a crappy Grease picture in one of Deb Kocher's oh-so-"flattering" costuming creations and one of me inspecting Toto, the pounds of pink gloss and glitter obstructing my facial features, while the amazing contrast of Monica (miniature in both size and brain capacity) makes me larger than life in more ways that one. Ha, his name is Walter, my dad's middle name is Walter. He has green eyes, I have green eyes. He's probably not a bitter, cynical snob, though. No wonder he's a famous voice actor and I'm not...not yet, anyway.

Thanksgiving

Yes yes, it's Thanksgiving to be and I am unable to to see what I am even typing. You realize, of course, that this color upon a white background leaves much to be given credit and responsibility to the knowoledge of your finger muscles. I bet I'm making no sense whatsoever, but who cares? There are so many other things to care about so why are we concerned about the technicalities? I've realized I'm totally animistic. It's beautiful, really, but when it comes down to it, I'm not sure that many others are. Perhaps it's a crazy thing to be animistic. But I think it's beautiful and I think it's a beautiful part of me, and I wouldn't be me without it. I'm so excited to spend time with my family. I'm going to Denver on Wednesday to spend the holiday with Dad and Zeb. They're really special, and I'm glad we'll have this. I think we all need each other right now, like we make up some kind of trinity like the US branches of government, that put each other in a system of checks and balances. Zeb provides the positive, the assurance of the NOW, that things are going well and love is around and success is happening. Dad gives us the past, the knowledge and the experience and wisdom if you will; he provides the age. I provide the future, the anxieites and excitement that it hasn't come yet, that hope is around and that now may not carry over, all the youth for any love.

Waking Dreams

When the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars, then peace will guide the planet and love will steer the stars this is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, Age of Aquarius... That's right. I bought a Dream Dictionary today, but how do you explain the dreams that go in every day in your own life? That is the question: what is real, and what is not? We really must live in a parallel universe, coexist on many a plane. I've discovered that my spine needs realignment, and it needs it professionally done. Such an adjustment is majorly going to improve my health and thus my everday life. I wish I had understood this about a month ago. The thing is, it's all good, all good from the front to the back! Really, it's one and the same. I love the relationships with people, love the connection, because through this we become closer to our true selves, or should I say self? Funny to think how my would be unable to exist without the contrast of your and their. For in order to describe something as my, we must assume that it's in competition with other matter. Therefore, it would be pointless to say "we connect into my true self" because the true self is universal, all and the same, and someone claiming it creates a separation that makes it no longer unified. That being said, I meant to imply that the fear and emptiness I feel about losing this connection, losing the beloved closeness I have woven with others, is all nonsense. It's all circular; it will come together again. After all, "God made the earth round so that we cannot see too far down the road."

Algun dia...

Funny, two days ago I wrote a huge blog that I accidentally erased. Wonder if it's symbolic somehow, how it was all happy and hopeful and it suddenly vanished. There is hope after all, though. At least I have the pleasure of sniffing "flu mist" the rest of the day...not quite the same effect as blow but probably better for me in the long run. Cheaper, too. I have to say, with the rollercoaster--or rather, rocket/dive--of early this week, today's ok. Fairly balanced. Maybe cycles like this come in triads, you know, Great day, Shit day, Fine day. Sounds like a Father Son and Ghost acronym to me. So goes life. Despite the freezing wasteland of the outdoors and its seeming reflection of my personal Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, it's all okay. Maybe it takes severe depression and a blizzard to make me drive around looking for people to give rides to. You can't make a profession out of things like that, but you can make a life, and I intend to. Love is not selfish; it doesn't matter if you do something out of love to feel it yourself, because everyone benefits. So I'm going to pick people up in a storm, make a cozy bed on my floor for a displaced friend, direct an old couple to the East parking lot, and let the org keep the 30 cents they would have given me back as change for their fundraiser. He's right, he's right, and it's beautiful to realize that, that peace IS possible and that smiles really work...and I'm starting to understand the Capricorn. Find one, everybody. Fine two, more like it: find one within yourself and one to model. Wake up in your Capricorn's arms and look into his eyes and recharge your battery of hope, feel at peace, and celebrate life!

Ode to the Sun

He laughs at us, twinkling and taunting as a father; we play with him and run to him for strength. She feeds us with her beauty, and I long to roam in a land of eternal sunshine, a desert reflecting her brilliance in every grain of sand. For she is there in the morning, gently urging us out of bed as we lie there together in each other's arms, and she bathes us in her everlasting life. I close my eyes, feel my parents, my lover, my friend, my ruler kiss me a thousand times with warmth and blessing only present in God and the circular oneness binding us all. Close your eyes and see a million golden suns projected onto your scarlet, retinal screens, all interlacing as in a kaleidoscope and magnifying all the world's beauty...and remember me like I remember you and them, the way I surrendered to your sensual caresses while you protected me through the night, the way they make me understand the beauty of a woman and the unbreakable bond among them, the way that love is everywhere, and the way it shines out of us like the sun is what makes the woul so beautiful. Thank you all for bringing the sunshine into my life.

The Beautiful People

Mmm mmm mmm, and so many of them, too. How is it I can feel so alone at times with all these wonderful souls surrounding me?

Up and Away

I feel kind of like I'm floating. Wherever the destination, I have room to pack just about anything in the abundance of luggage under my eyes. Got a message from Rodney at some point in the last 24, Henry still wants to give me a "merry christmas" in Hong Kong. Well, not on anything at the moment anyway, might as well unload the burden in the East.

Aslan's Return

If I were putting away my life, I'd have no idea where any of it goes. Maybe I should be wild and free, maybe I've always been that way. My reluctance to roam probably comes from the fear of hurting and harming, which probably comes from the fear of not being loved. Foolish. Long chat with Dad today, called him at work, had to double-check on the bipolar factor...my mirror has two faces, to say the least. But yeah, Pops is okay, depressed about the divorce I think but our relationship seems to be soaring. Makes me feel selfish, really; it took me way too long. Friends are great. Love them, love them, cherish, and don't be shy to hold their hands. This goes for me as well as the rest of the world. Kiss kiss.