Riding To Learn

Today was one of the most interesting adventures EVER!  This morning we arose to the knocking at the door for breakfast.  Logan stepped out of the loo to answer the door, since I was still abed.  When he opened the door, the tray crashed to the pavement (they’re really going to hate us by the time we leave), because the woman who delivered the try was the Mum of the boys who kept trying to sneak another peek and she was not ready for a naked Logan to open the door.    All I could hear was “Aw LAWD ya’ll gon gib me da fits! Git yosef sum britches own!”

Well, that began the giggling for me today and it only got better.  We met the Rev at the designated time and there was a carriage awaiting us that looked like the one in the photo.  The Rev and I sat on the forward facing seat and Logan sat on the other seat.  Off we went on the tour of this beautiful city!  I listened to the driver tell about the history of the city, pointing out some of the more interesting buildings, and I learned that if someone offers you Oleander Tea don’t drink it because they are trying to kill you.

As we clopped around the historical part of the city, the horse, not one to be bashful, didst pass wind with such force that Logan thought his head was aflame.  The stench was such that his eyes would not stop watering for several blocks.  The driver, nonplussed by this burst of equine flatulence, kept right on telling us about the row of colourful waterfront homes called “Rainbow Row.”  As we were passing a peach coloured one, we recognized it as the one where we had been invited for tea.  We saw the sweet gentleman and he waved to us telling us to come for tea on the morrow at 4:00.

After our carriage tour, which I would HIGHLY recommend, the Rev took us to lunch.  He drove through the city, across a bridge, and into a neighborhood.  We assumed he was taking us to his home or the home of a friend.  But when he reached the end of the street and turned onto a dirt path, it got us more than a wee bit anxious.  Finally, we came to a stop in front of what appeared to be a warehouse of some sort.

As it turned out, this unassuming structure is a restaurant called “The Wreck.”  They only open for lunch and dinner, but once the day’s catch is gone, they close for the day.  The catch comes right off the trawlers.  I had the crab claws and fried shrimp, having not had fried shrimp before.  The Rev. ordered something that came with corn on the cob, covered with shrimp, some unidentifiable meat substance, and potatoes. Logan ordered the fried fish with chips.  And OH…..MY……..STARS!  It was delicious! And the beer (which I am FINALLY getting accustomed to ice cold beer) was locally brewed and so refreshing!

We had a wonderful time of just chatting each other, with no therapy or guidance on the Rev’s part.  Or so I thought!  After lunch, we were taken to visit the USS Yorktown.  On the way, the Rev commented on how much more relaxed and at ease we both were.  He told us how proud he was of us for taking the time and effort to take this journey seriously and for accepting that WE are the owners of our lives now.  And that ownership means that if we fuck it up, it’s all on us now.  We should make amends and keep living forward.  His approach has always been gentle but firm, wise but not cliche, he made US think for ourselves instead of telling us what to think.  He counseled us without us realizing it most of the time.  And he held us accountable, if he asked us to do something to help with this process, he made sure we did it.

But back to the USS Yorktown…..What a HUGE ship!  That is until you get down to the crews’ living area.  I laid on one bunk and Logan laid on the one above me and his mattress was touching my nose.  NO THANK YOU!  I will NOT be joining anyone’s Navy any time soon!  But there was a sense of respect about the ship.  Every corner seemed to ooze respect for those who crewed her during some of the most horrible times of war.  There was a place near the exit where the names of the lost seamen were listed, I felt compelled to stop and offer a prayer (such as I could) thanking these brave souls for their service and my hope they have now found peace.

On the ride back to the inn, the Rev asked how we felt about the tour of the Yorktown.  We both said that it must have been terrible to be in the middle of the ocean during wartime knowing a submarine or an airplane or accident could harm you.  The stress must have been so intense!  Then he stopped the car, looked at both of us and said, “What you have just described has been your lives for so long.  And now you are able to recognize it, face it, and deal with it.  All you needed was to know you aren’t alone and that you are okay.”

I’ll just say, I have SUCH a respect for this man that words fail me!

Revenge!

After much thought and careful consideration, I finally was able to get my revenge on Logan TWICE!  I know he has a “thing” for a co-worker named Bethany.  I have seen him mooning over her photo on his phone, but she has not met me yet (probably on purpose).  On Tuesday, I “happened” to wander over (via bus and tube) the 27 blocks to Logan’s Office.  I saw him sitting in the park with Bethany, so I thought I might as well break the ice and introduce myself since, apparently, Logan doesn’t think it’s a good idea.  I walked up behind Logan hugged him and kissed his cheek and looked at Bethany and said, “You must be Cindy!  Logan just won’t stop talking about you. I’m his sister Timere. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Logan’s face turned so hot from his blushing and then he got flustered because Cindy is actually his boss who he complains about incessantly.  Needless to say, Bethany was stunned and speechless.  I heard Logan making choking sounds trying to think of what to say, so I kissed him on the cheek again and whispered in his ear, “Gotcha!”.  Then I let the cat out of the bag and properly introduced myself to Bethany (very ladylike and daintily, of course).

THAT was SO worth the fare!  Logan came home sputtering mad but calmed down when I came out of the kitchen with his favorite meal prepared, and reminded him that I love him.  After dinner, Logan told me that he would clean up since I had fixed dinner.  Well, THAT should have been my clue that he was up to something, but I was still riding the high of the victory and knowing that I had another plan to set in motion.  Logan was clanging the pots and pans around making a lot of noise (even though I had only made his favorite pizza).  But I was relaxed on the sofa watching my programme, when he comes out of the kitchen jumps over the back of the sofa, drops in beside me, kissed me on the cheek as he slapped duct tape on my arm.

Now…..I am accustomed to being waxed from chin to toes (and still do it), but duct tape on skin…The only way to get it off was to get a corner and just yank the foot long piece off my arm.  There were many, Many, MANY expletives expressed because I miscalculated and it took FOUR yanks to finally get it off.  SO not fair.

But because I love him, I opted not to dismember him just yet.  But while he slept, I took his suit jacket and a pair of bright pink see through thong panties, and sewed them into the tail of his jacket so they could only be seen from the back.  So when he goes to the office tomorrow, he’s going to have to explain why he has a pair of sexy women’s panties dangling from his jacket.  I might just have to follow him to work just to see the reactions of he gets. 🙂  <insert evil maniacal laugh here>

Prank Update & Continued

This weekend past was challenging for both Logan and I.  It all began Friday morning when I had poured some blonde hair colouring in Logans shampoo, as he is VERY particular about his hair.  The shrieking from his lav when he saw his blonde top was hysterical!  Thank goodness I had locked my door because he came racing down the hall and ran face first into my solid oak door, which created more for his coworkers to view upon his arrival.  I’ll admit it, I checked on him and helped him with his bloody nose after I had laughed so hard that my ribs and stomach hurt.

That’s not to say I got away with it.  On Saturday, I got up late and was going to go to the pub with some of my coworkers so we could share our stories about the red-headed googly eyed guy from across the alleyway.  I jumped in the shower, grabbed my bodywash and started cleansing, only to discover the water was just beading up and rolling off me.  Logan had put petroleum jelly in my body wash, the little bastard!  Five scrubs later with regular soap and I still feel icky!

Then the little shyte went to the coffee truck I always patronize, because it’s right outside my workplace, and told the 18 year old counter person that I was in love with him AND that he made me horny.  When I showed up this morning, sure enough coffee guy is making puppy eyes at me and staring at, well, it wasn’t my eyes.  He asked me, in a shaky teenager voice, if I would go out with him.  I was confused as to where this was coming from, I had only been polite and courteous but nothing more.  That is, until I caught a glimpse of Logan hiding behind a shrubbery.  Then I knew!  So I smiled coyly, ran my finger along the neckline of my shirt, pulling down to where he could ALMOST see my boobless chest, and said “Come out of that van and I want you to take me right here in the park. I’ll ride you like a cowboy at a rodeo.” And then I winked.  Poor boy, his eyes went wide and by the time I got to “rodeo” he blushed and excused himself.  I ran over and smacked Logan on the back of his blonde head for ruining the coffee boy.

So now, it’s my turn.  What to do, what to do?

Serenity

Within this world of sight and sound

Overwhelming, at times, though it be;

There is a place that’s just for me

A place I call Serenity!

Life has sucked for most of my years

And joy from it was drained;

But as that may be, my life has changed

Because of this place, Serenity!

Sometimes it is hard to find

And others it’s a breeze;

Regardless my scene I always find

My place called Serenity

It is a state of being

That calm in spite of the storms;

It’s a place to wait out

The trials of life

This place called Serenity.

When stress tries to destroy

And sap strength and joy

And leave me crumpled and weeping,

My soul will crawl all the way back

To this place called Serenity.

And The Pranks We Play

Logan and I are brother and sister.  We live together.  He is my rescuer and my hero.  He is also the target of my mischief most of the time.  And I am the target of his mischief.

It all began when he first moved me in with him.  I have my own room and my own lav.  However, when I’m in the shower, Logan would wait until I started singing (which drives him nuts) and he would flush his toilet. Suddenly, mid-song, all the cold water would disappear and I would get a bit of a scalding.  He claimed my scream was much more pleasant than my singing.  Little bastard.

So, whilst HE slept, I stealthily crept in with my ninja-like skills, and sewed all of his boxers together in one long chain.  Oh my word, such profanity I heard the following morning would have melted granite!  Ah…..sweet revenge.

Logan know that I like my tea.  Do not fuck with my tea!  Every morning whilst my tea is steeping, I get dressed then pour the tea into my thermos and off to work I go.  Well, Dr. Sneakydrawers waited until I had just put my tea on to steep and put a jalapeno in to steep with the tea and when he heard me coming up the hall, snatched it out and ate it.  Imagine my surprise when I went to the rooftop for lunch, wave at my redheaded, bespectacled, across-the-alley gawker, and pour my tea.  I thought it tasted a bit off, but halfway through my cup I was racing around the roof trying to find the water spigot.  I finally found one with no hose so I was practically standing on my head sucking down as much water as I could and giving my gawker the best view of my panda pantied ass he’s ever had.

Again, I relied on my wicked ninja skills, and while he slept, I painted his fingernails Bubblegum Pink and reset his alarm so he would have 15 minutes less time to get ready to catch the train.  Logan is not exactly a morning person, meaning he’s not fully paying attention until he gets his coffee. Thus, when his alarm went off 15 minutes late, he had to dash.  He didn’t notice his nails until he was on the train and someone told him how pretty they were.  I did not realize that he had a presentation to make at work that morning, so he had to scramble to get to the pharm to get some fingernail polish remover.  But not before his co-workers got a good giggle out of it.

Last night, he replaced my body lotion with mayonnaise.  So when I got my shower and applied my “lotion” it was fucking disgusting!  It took another two hot showers to get that nastiness off!  And I’m still smelling it while I’m at work today!

What to do? What to do?

Freedom!

I hear people talking quite a bit about how they are downtrodden and they will never be able to enjoy the privilege of some other group, and in my mind I am screaming “IF YOU HAD LIVED MY LIFE FOR 22 YEARS YOU WOULD LOVE WHERE YOU ARE NOW!” But I keep quiet because no one would listen.

When did we become such spoiled little entitled whiny bitches?  If you want your station in life to improve then improve it!  We are so quick to spout off excuse after excuse after excuse as to why we can’t.  And I will openly admit, I spent years making excuses why I couldn’t leave the Grunge, so I just endured his torture and torment.  When I was FINALLY convinced that I had the power to improve my station in life, I got out and am working toward making my life better.  No, I may never have an expensive car, expensive clothes, expensive place to live, but I will have what I need.

Freedom, to me, means living without making excuses.  If I fuck up, admit it, take the consequences, and move on.  If I want something, I save my money to get it or learn to make it myself (btw, you do NOT want me to invite you to dinner.  My cooking SUCKS!).

I am of Asian/Hispanic/Questionable heritage.  I don’t look at skin color or accent or hair color, or body type.  I don’t really care what the outside looks like.  Are you a good and gentle person?  Are you kind?  Are you caring?  Do we have common interests?  Do we enjoy each others’ company? And trust me, I can pick up on the stench of bullshit!

We spend so much time complaining and whining and moaning and groaning, instead of caring and making a difference that we have lost focus of the freedom of life!

I actually bought a bra on Saturday, much to my surprise, they had one for the flat of chest.  I wore it Sunday and half of Monday.  It felt like I was wearing a bullet proof vest, so during lunch break, I went to the roof as I normally do, and sure enough the googly eyed red haired guy was across the alley working on his computer.  We have developed a rather “long distance” relationship, when I come up for lunch, he looks at me through his window, smiles and waves.  When I stood on the ledge and took off my bra and let it fall into the alley, I think his imagination must have had a meltdown.  His face hit the window hard enough for his glasses to break.  But I felt free!

Free from confinement.  Free to just be!

 

Daydreaming

I love listening to music.  Especially classical music.  My favorite composer is Antonio Vivaldi.  Now I know classical music is boring as hell to most people, but I get the strangest looks when I am walking to work with my earbuds playing Vivaldi in my ears and the people driving or walking by me can only see me trying to conduct the symphony.  Rather like a stork spasming.  But that’s okay. I’m learning to be who I am instead of who I was brought up to be.

Logan teases me too, when he hears me singing along with the radio in my shower.  The acoustics in the shower are fantastic…..as long as one has talent for singing.  But I like singing so Logan can kiss a toad!  He told me that he was going to record me singing and use it as his new Wake Up Alarm because nothing makes him want to leave the house like me singing.

Anyway, work has been wonderful.  Being kept VERY busy working with the new computer system.  My stitches were taken out (by the doctor) and no real permanent damage other than yet another scar.  So I have been released to watch Sister Thomasina’s Self-Defense Class, but not participate for another two weeks.

We also adopted a rescue dog.  He’s SO adorable and loves to snuggle with me.  He’s part pitbull and part a lot of other breeds.  Apparently, his mother had pretty much the same life I had, so we are just mutts together.

Started a cooking class at the Adult Annex and haven’t burned anything as yet, which is a plus.  I did however undercook the rice on the first try so my Vegetable Rice with Chicken was…..like chewing gravel.  But progress…..yesterday, I fixed a cake that actually looked like a cake and was edible!

 

Why Came You Here?

I found this poem really made me think and feel like the writer was looking directly into my soul.

Desperately weary
From life’s trudgery
And drudgery,
I wandered to escape
The numbness of my heart
And the heartlessness
That had become my cup.

Wandered I aimlessly
Until upon a ruin
I happened upon.
Entering, I felt uneasy peace.

My eyes closed in weariness
And in my dream
Heard I a voice:
“Why came you here?”
My reply:
“To find rest.”
The Voice, deep and commanding, spake:
“Get thee hence, for peace resides not here!”

My heart sank.

Again came the voice, softer this time:
“Why came you here?”
My reply:
“To find comfort.”
The voice didst boom in command:
“Get thee hence, for comfort resides not here!”

My spirit was weary.

A third time came the voice,
This time a whisper:
“Why came you here?”
My reply was tinged with tears and struggle:
“To find forgiveness.”
The voice, gently replied:
“My child, Et ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
Go now absolved, and be free.”

My soul didst find wings and fly.

Next dawn, my lifeless shell was found within the old structure.
My heart was stopped.
My spirit died.
My soul had flown to freedom.
And my face bore a smile of peace
For the first time.

Peaceful Place

In my session with my counselor on Friday, she asked me if I had a place where I felt peaceful and completely at ease.  I admitted that I used to find cemetery’s rather peaceful because there was no one there to bother you or try to chat you up.  But the more I thought, there is one place where I like to go walking because it’s a place where I feel free.  So she asked me if I would be willing to take her there.  I wasn’t sure about that because it’s the place where I feel most as ease mainly because no one else is there when I am there.  But I told her I would consider it.

I called her later and told her that I would share it with her but only with the understanding that this is a ONE TIME deal.  I’m not willing to give up my peaceful spot!  She agreed and Saturday Morning, I met her at her office and we walked to my peaceful place.

I love walking here and thinking.  There’s something about being among these trees that have lived through so much and remain so majestic that gives me hope and reminds me that I may be down sometimes but I’m not out!  I usually take my daypack with books, notebooks, and, if you’ll pardon the indiscretion, a roll of TP just in case.

 

I Think I Thunk

I’ve been doing a LOT of thinking and remembering and contemplating and pondering and I think I thunk.  I was talking with my counselor about all I had written (93 entries) about my life with the Grunge.  And toward the end of our session, she stopped and said, “You have so much anger and rage caged up inside you.  What are you going to do with it?”  I told her I wanted my experiences to help others, and she smiled and said, “That wasn’t the question. What are you going to do with all that is eating you up inside?  Are you going to let it destroy you or are you going to let it go so you can LIVE for once.”

Odd question I’ll admit.  But the meds only numb the pain.  The writing brings the pain.  I haven’t grasped the concept of letting go of the pain and anger and rage.  How can I help others if I have this caged pissed off dragon inside?  So I began to think.

I took each memory I had written.  Re-read them one at a time.  Then I put then in the fire in the fireplace.  And as I did that, I told myself that memory is history, it cannot hurt me anymore unless I let it.  It’s time to unlock the cage and release the dragon!