I believe we maybe in an apocalypse. Great countries are falling under false leadership, we are destroying our environment to the detriment of survival, and people are repeating genocidal practices. I am angry. I am so angry and I am trying so hard to not be destroyed by this specter of hate.
Insidious. Disgusting. Cruel. Foo, do not forget that you matter and your voice matters. Even if it is just to vote do it. You are not screaming into a tornado your voice is what powers that storm!
With love and regard,
I am adding this side note because, yes, I noticed the error. Kilroy. You matter to me and I want you to know that. Kilroy.
Have you noticed that when most people speak the person listening is already creating a rebuttal? I find it fascinating that we have such a disconnect in our society. We want our words to be heard! But god forbid we should hear someone else’s.
I know this has gone on for some time. I often wonder as we spend more time on our devices if this is part of the problem. Maybe it’s not. Most likely it is.
I am still working on being present and part of that work is not having a cellular device. No smart phone, no extended cable, and I only use the computer at the library. I feel more free and so disconnected at the same time.
I carry books to read while I wait (or I knit). I talk to p...
The world is her eyes. The reflection of those that love and her can be seen clearly. It is funny that the same person who loves her the most is also the same one that can hurt her the most.
In their depths I see so much, so many shadows, sadness, anger, hurt, and courage. She has put up with so much and yet she still allows herself to be vulnerable. She still loves.
I have settled into my new home. It is Christmas and Hanukkah. I live between both worlds so my home is masterful, chaotic, celebration of both. I feel like this is renewal. The time at the hospital was dim and painful and I know I am not fully where I will be; but this time of year has given me hope.
I have volunteered at the local youth shelter and met many like me; but so much stronger and braver. I try not to compare because each person’s story is significant to them. Sometimes I feel like their chapters are better written. But authors resonate with each reader in different ways.
I just hope they know how much they have taught me. Their strength of will and love of life...
Today is Thanksgiving. I know you’re still at the hospital; I am so thankful that you took that step. Should you need anything, please, do not hesitate to ask. I may not be able to be there in person but I can be there in other ways.
I feel that a home is not the building but the people within. It is what you feel toward who or what resides there that create a family. I feel that I have made an amazing family from those that I have chosen.
Know this Foo; you are part of my family.
Post Script: I did not realize that was what PS meant until I saw it.
After I mailed my last letter to you I realized that no one should feel compelled to divert the pain of one part of life into a tactile physical reality. I bled on a letter and sent it to you. I walked from where I lived for for about an hour before dropping my letter to you in mail box. I wanted you to get it and was worried that something would prevent it from reaching you if I mailed it from home.
I walked the hour back; and for the first time my mind was silent. As I reached the stairs to my front door I could see clearly that this building was not my home. That those inside, even though blood related, were not truly my family.
To desire to cause pain, malicio...
I hope this reaches you and you are well. I keep looking for your letters in the post. I feel as if there is something wrong and am not sure if it is about the season or intuition.
If you are well, know I think of you and what you will say next. If you are not; imagine me sitting with you. My hand is here if you need to hold onto something or someone. I can take the pressure you may need to exert.
My hand is out. My palm up and fingers lax. I reach out for the comfort of you, in my mind you’re swathed in crisp fabric. And your hands are calloused from work and writing. I have never actually seen you or touched you. But your scent drifts from the pages of your letters.
Your pen barely compresses the paper beneath your words; my fingers seek the textures you leave when you write to me.
My hand is out. My palm up and the cuts bleed softly onto my paper. I am sorry. I could not halt the cuts. I had done so well! But today, today my insides slipped out of me. Publicly I was put on display.
My doctor says that even though I find a release from the pain my scars are their perman...
Your words whispered to me and remain like echos of a shout. Overwhelmed. It is a constant frightful battle that I fear I cannot win. I break things down into small bite size pieces so I don’t choke.
I want to say happy Veterans Day to you. I sat with my grandmother today and remembered her stories of being WAC. I feel women of an age are often forgotten because they were not part of the standardized military. They were just as important and entirely as integral as the men.
I know you don’t speak of it and it is not something you wish to rehash. But I thank you for doing what you didn’t have to and what many don’t chose to.
In respect and with admiration,
I often wonder if I am causing more harm than good. I constantly look around and see unfinished movements, prayers, and halted steps. I feel incomplete more often than fulfilled and more lost than on path.
There are so many things I want to do but stepping into them is like walking onto the dark road way marked under construction. When I take that first step I often feel my focus splinter like glass when pressure is put upon it. It doesn’t always break through but spider webs in a multitude of fractals.
I feel overwhelmed! By the smallest commitments that I take on. It is ridiculous how the feeling builds and then slides over me. I have started taking small steps for things that ...
I am laying in my bed, Ghost is asleep beside me. The wind is raging outside and all I can do is listen and marvel at its strength. It started about two hours ago and battered my car as I drove along the river to home. The trees danced in the winds embrace and at dipped deeply at times.
I have always liked storms, the clashing rain, lightning, and thunder. Dark clouds in the sky make me want to stay at home and make soup and bread. But it took me awhile to learn to love wind.
Something about wind has always made me uncomfortable. It is loud, and beats at you and your home, constantly pummeling to get in. I have seen roofs ripped off and massive trees uprooted. Not to mention the dange...
Kindness and empathy are often forgotten and purposely sat aside.
Thank you for valuing both.
She is 2 years old and no one wanted her. Her eyes are green with rings of blue around her irises and she is a tabby of beautiful stripes and deep color. She is scared of other cats so no one wanted her. I looked at her and fell in love. Each day she feels safer. Her name is Ghost.
This is an adoption announcement.
I couldn’t leave her there once I met her. I saw the look of wanting in her eyes. She just wanted her own people. Foo, I am her people.
Regards from the people who never thought they would be a cats people,
There is so much that we cannot change. We see these things and they can cut us. As long as you do what is in your means you have no reason to bleed. It is terrifying to know that there are those who use the acceptance of people like us to justify their perversions.
There is so much going on! I watched a 15 year old girl tear into wealthy privileged Americans today. Her words burned. Because she was right. She erred in only one thought. She didn’t want to believe that there were any that evil who would chose money over the earth. Over the threat of mass extinction.
All you have to do is look around and see how people are treating others to know that those she was addressing are that ...
Why do you think there is so much demand for pain? Why are people paying to watch others torture and abuse animals and children or adults rendered helpless?
I keep seeing requests for information about these people. They normally show their faces taken from a clip of video. My stomach turns as I force myself to view them. I have to be sure that they’re not someone I know.
I understand wanting pain. I understand a consensual relationship that involves levels of pain. But I do not understand abuse.
From the last article it said not to share the post requesting for information if it contained video clips instead of stills. That money is made off of the videos. And the more it is sh...
A life of lies is no life at all. It is a false existence that leaves us hollow and fragile. By taking steps to respect the cultures of those that are stolen we make small amends. Sometimes that is all we can do.
I have been mixed about things like appropriation because the idea is unsettling to me. I enjoy learning of other cultures and traditions. I love artwork and music from places that I have never been. But I have I learned not to place myself as a representative of those cultures. I do not act like their work is mine. And I only buy from authentic and reputable dealers. Small steps can have large impacts.
If our government continues to live for only profit we will always be sha...
I have been standing outside at night, barefoot, and without a coat. Cold air raps me snuggly in its chill. I dig my toes as deep into the soil as they can go. I revel in the moist earth and frosted breath that I breathe. I love the almost painful bite of the night time.
Tonight I stood outside and looked on the moon. I was out there so long my feet went numb and my nose stung. When I started to thaw inside it ran. My lips as so cold I couldn’t form the words in my head.
I have been pondering stolen lands, stolen life’s, and stolen futures. I think the night is a good time and the outside is a good place to contemplate these things. They are uncomfortable to think on. The night all...
I too do not deserve your friendship. It has been wonderful to have a friend I can speak freely to without judgment. I used to wonder what you looked like, sounded like, and even smelt like. Now your voice is that of the trees around me as they whisper your words in my mind. You scent drifts elusively around me but never really settles; and your face is one I cherish because I have never seen it.
I have something very important to tell you... I killed a spider a today! While I was trying to kill the 8 legged invader I had a boy about 9 years old holding his shoe in one hand (I had the other), dancing around behind in some steam spastic ritual of the chicken dance; with sound effect...
I do not deserve you. Your friendship sustains me in times of unknown territory. I hold my breath as I read your words and bury them within me to read in my mind again and again.
I can never repay the gift you have given me. You read my life without condemnation and cruelty. You have never found a word amongst my bloody ink and chosen to throw it back at me.
I know things are dark now, strike that; things are blinding bright and painful to look upon. There has been so much pain seeping from one corner to the next. Just hold the reminder that no matter how bad it gets; someone will always step up. Someone will always walk beside the broken and try to prevent the from shattering further...
I feel dirty, ashamed, and greatly saddened. There is a large helping of disgust mixed in with these other feelings. Disgust at the inaction and the rhetoric that has once again begun to make the rounds.
Let’s not make stronger and safer gun laws; instead lets blame mental illness! But wait we are not going to do anything about that either!
1. Mental illness is the cause. Irrational fear and hatred that has saturated the hearts of these unbalanced men. The cause: a man who glories in his power but dares not take responsibility for his actions and words.
2. Gun laws need to be federally mandated and consistent across the country.
3. NRA once a good organization has strayed so far fr...
I’m tired. I do not know what to do about the things happening around me. I worry, I know, I should be doing something. But I am scared. There are days when it is almost too much to take care of myself.
The hate that is spreading is insidious and mercurial. I cannot see its intent plainly but I know that harm is meant. It seems to be spreading like a pandemic. Why is it now taking such hold?
I heard said that the only thing good that has come from this is that people who did not normally stand up and fight, have. And with clear razor sharp intent. That the new pain was causing people to say no to old pain.
I want to be out there fight with them! I want to stand against this great...
This is something I said earlier today. I feel this strongly. I am tried of the arguments about this. The laws being past are in direct violation of constitutional law. But also this:
Pregnancy is an amazing and frightening thing, you can thrive, you can be in full immense joy about carrying your progeny. You can also be vilely ill, unprepared, terrified, lost, suicidal, ambivalent, and full of dangerous feelings and thoughts. Technically a fetus is a parasite. This is not a symbiotic relationship. A lot of damage can be done to the mother.
Until you sit alone in a room and have to debate with yourself about how well you can care for the child or children that you would be bring...
I have to speak to you about something that may hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel bad. But it has to be said. We are not great. We have the potential to be amazing. But first we have to stand up and be accountable for our actions.
And those actions that happened in the past that have never truly been acknowledged as heinous acts and have never been apologized for. These are small but important things. I am sure you know what I am talking about. The indigenous people of this land span from South America through Canada and into Alaska. Not to mention the Hawaiian islands.
Your children when they arrived acted unethically. They used their religion as a weapon and ...
I have nothing. I cannot speak about what you go through. Even though my family has a difficult time with who I am they still, in their weirdly loving and resisting fashion, support me. My dark times come from the attacks. Because I am visibly different than the standard issue human others feel it is ok to do harm.
In the past before coming to terms with who I am I had moments of very deep self loathing as hatred. I have harmed myself in theses times. I at one point mutilated myself. My body was not the one I my heart and mind belong too. I had listened to my parents pastor talk about how god had given me such a gift. I hated the vessel even more.
I spent time in the hospital recoveri...
I felt the darkness crawling into me. It slipped into me smoothly as if it belongs in me. I have begun to wonder if does belong. It has been a part of me for so very long. I still function. But I feel paralyzed as it tries to take root.
Sounds are distorted, lights so bright that they’re dim, and constant numbness. I try to cut it out and it won’t leave. There are whispers from behind the doors as this darkness settles in. It scares me and I feel as though I am to tired to keep fighting.
My mother doesn’t understand. She tells me that there is no medical history of “this type of thing”. Kilroy, I don’t need a history. I need help.
I have my art. I have my kitchen. I have so much ...
I have never fought with the memory of the departed. That would mean I would have to be taken into consideration. Any spectators that may have the power to cast their shadows upon my home have chosen not to.
I have completed with the ideal that I have never met. I will admit; to my mother’s shame and horror, I have never tried to meet. I felt from an early age that there was no need to impress those around me. That any action to do so would be a lie. I disdain lies.
It has always been hard to present myself in manner that
others find palatable. Because of this there has never really been an expectation on the part of others that I might be more. After all when one is as they p...
How does one compete with memory of potential cut short? Her specter hovers over me and from my view she try’s to protect me. But in the heart of another she is the unfulfilled dream of the first born. The one who never grew up. The one they loved first - the one they will hold the longest.
I do not envy her. I do not want her place in the heart of the mother. I have witnessed the pain of her loss every year. Her birthday and the date of her death, almost 6 years apart, are less than a month apart. Our mother disappears while with us.
Kilroy, I guess it’s not competing but understanding. To me she is the shade of shadows. To my mother she is the eclipse of the sun.
I do not know if you have opened my last message. If you have not, then do not. I ask that you keep it in its envelope and when you find the need to; put it back in to your pocket.
I have come to the realization over the course of my years that we need to hold onto the things that bring us comfort. That help us stay strong. Stay sane. Feel safe.
I have read your last letter so many times the folds in the paper are beginning to separate. I feel strongly that the next time he imposes his brand of affection that you make known your dislike of his touch. Loudly. Physically. In front of witnesses so there is no mistaking your meaning.
I myself dislike touching people. I reserve the right ...
I sit here at my desk. Pen in hand writing to you. I have a confession. I received your letter but have left it unopened. It is in front of me laying propped against my desk lamp. Your hand writing flowing over the outside. The ink slightly smudged from, what I presume, was a rain.
I wanted to tear open your missive the minute I received it. And that is why it sits unopened. I put it in my pocket and I carried it with me for the day. I will read it. But I am waiting. The anticipation of your words is almost as great as reading them.
I also have another reason for waiting. I received your missive the day He came to visit. He acted as if nothing had happened and he had a rite to be ...