<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761</id><updated>2024-11-01T03:37:16.990-07:00</updated><category term="poem"/><category term="wednesday"/><category term="beach"/><category term="poetry"/><category term="Monday"/><category term="desire"/><category term="ineffable"/><category term="pain"/><category term="Friday"/><category term="alone"/><category term="be good"/><category term="bridge"/><category term="car"/><category term="chaos"/><category term="contnetment"/><category term="drum circle"/><category term="entry"/><category term="fight"/><category term="francis"/><category term="gaudian unlimited"/><category term="honor"/><category term="little black dress night"/><category term="living downtown"/><category term="prayer"/><category term="saint"/><category term="saturday"/><category term="sentiment"/><category term="shopping"/><category term="sprackland"/><category term="sunday"/><category term="teacher"/><category term="the now"/><category term="thursday"/><category term="tuesday"/><category term="water"/><title type='text'>.</title><subtitle type='html'>.&#xa;Wearing Bluestockings</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>43</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-8510546775923576346</id><published>2009-06-23T10:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T10:05:32.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Intent is to do what I can in THIS moment, as if the future were not an option, with the knowledge that inertia=nonexistance | Intent.com</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.intent.com/bluestocking/intents/my-intent-do-what-i-can-moment-if-future-were-not-option-knowledge-inertianonex&quot;&gt;My Intent is to do what I can in THIS moment, as if the future were not an option, with the knowledge that inertia=nonexistance | Intent.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shared via &lt;a href=&quot;http://addthis.com&quot;&gt;AddThis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/8510546775923576346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/8510546775923576346' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/8510546775923576346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/8510546775923576346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-intent-is-to-do-what-i-can-in-this.html' title='My Intent is to do what I can in THIS moment, as if the future were not an option, with the knowledge that inertia=nonexistance | Intent.com'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-3416563647211012809</id><published>2008-03-19T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T10:17:51.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I keep wrapping myself up in them again and again...How can some one be so foolish?</title><content type='html'>especially people who care about strangers who say they care about social injustice do you only care about the bleeding crowd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h2&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:100%;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;b&gt; Musical: Hair&lt;br /&gt;Song: Easy to Be Hard&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;How can people be so heartless&lt;br /&gt;How can people be so cruel&lt;br /&gt;Easy to be hard&lt;br /&gt;Easy to be cold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can people have no feelings&lt;br /&gt;How can they ignore their friends&lt;br /&gt;Easy to be proud&lt;br /&gt;Easy to say no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And especially people&lt;br /&gt;Who care about strangers&lt;br /&gt;Who care about evil&lt;br /&gt;And social injustice&lt;br /&gt;Do you only&lt;br /&gt;Care about the bleeding crowd?&lt;br /&gt;How about a needing friend?&lt;br /&gt;I need a friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can people be so heartless&lt;br /&gt;You know I&#39;m hung up on you&lt;br /&gt;Easy to give in&lt;br /&gt;Easy to help out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And especially people&lt;br /&gt;Who care about strangers&lt;br /&gt;Who say they care about social injustice&lt;br /&gt;Do you only&lt;br /&gt;Care about the bleeding crowd&lt;br /&gt;How about a needing friend?&lt;br /&gt;I need a friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can people have no feelings&lt;br /&gt;How can they ignore their friends&lt;br /&gt;Easy to be hard&lt;br /&gt;Easy to be cold&lt;br /&gt;Easy to be proud&lt;br /&gt;Easy to say no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I married on of these people...and I seem to keep wrapping myself up in them again and again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can some one be so foolish?&lt;br /&gt;How can someone be so blind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nothing profound to today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just Revelations...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/3416563647211012809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/3416563647211012809' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/3416563647211012809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/3416563647211012809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-keep-wrapping-myself-up-in-them-again.html' title='I keep wrapping myself up in them again and again...How can some one be so foolish?'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-6749292109744848048</id><published>2008-01-23T08:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T08:06:41.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Careful Which Wold You Feed</title><content type='html'>Interesting old Cherokee legend that tells us that our state of mind is our choice.&lt;br /&gt;Read it here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://stateofbeinghuman.blogspot.com/2008/01/be-careful-which-wolf-you-feed.html&quot;&gt;Be Careful Which Wolf You Feed&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/6749292109744848048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/6749292109744848048' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/6749292109744848048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/6749292109744848048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2008/01/be-careful-which-wold-you-feed.html' title='Be Careful Which Wold You Feed'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-7941615383466162036</id><published>2008-01-19T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T15:15:52.376-08:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="entry"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="gaudian unlimited"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="living downtown"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poem"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sprackland"/><title type='text'>living downtown</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;living downtown&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my street, more alley&lt;br /&gt;is the shortcut&lt;br /&gt;to every urban pleasure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they pass beneath&lt;br /&gt;the bathroom window&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i keep it open&lt;br /&gt;to let in out&lt;br /&gt;out in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i never go&lt;br /&gt;there, into the street&lt;br /&gt;i can hear just fine&lt;br /&gt;from here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which indie films&lt;br /&gt;were the good ones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;which chef ventured&lt;br /&gt;too far-out&lt;br /&gt;even for these&lt;br /&gt;pedestrian&lt;br /&gt;nouveau-riche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the last audible&lt;br /&gt;measures from the&lt;br /&gt;live concert&lt;br /&gt;find their way&lt;br /&gt;through the mesh&lt;br /&gt;in my screen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i smoke cigarettes&lt;br /&gt;on the toilet seat&lt;br /&gt;and sing</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/7941615383466162036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/7941615383466162036' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/7941615383466162036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/7941615383466162036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2008/01/living-downtown.html' title='living downtown'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-4230678747860731682</id><published>2008-01-19T00:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T00:36:55.148-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking Home Alone...in the Dark</title><content type='html'>I just walked home alone...after 2 am...from a bar...half happy...half drunk...I left a former student there...he calls me Mom now...and said he&#39;d be home later....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually met a man tonight...he asked for my number...he&#39;s younger...as usual...I&#39;ll never understand why the younger guys are always the one&#39;s to go for me...and I do mean &quot;go for me&quot;...he actually got up and crossed the room to sit at my table and talk to with me for hours...or shout at me, really...why is the music always soooooo loud?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was annoyed, at first when my adopted student son called and insisted he was coming over for the evening...but, in the end, I am glad to have spent too much money feeding and entertaining him...I need to get out more...I too often forget that all the &quot;life&quot; one could wish for is within walking distance when one lives &quot;downtown&quot;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still wonder about leaveing my &quot;son&quot; to find his way &quot;home&quot;...I won&#39;t sleep until he&#39;s in and safely snuggled in on the couch...you&#39;d think I&#39;d actually birthed him from the way I foster and fawn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am typing like a drunk...too much backspacing and spell-checking....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so grateful to have had fun this evening...into night...on till morning...and that is good...and sad....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to find a cure for reclusive...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Water...yes...drink some water...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and go to bed....with one ear open...listening for the child to settle in....</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/4230678747860731682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/4230678747860731682' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4230678747860731682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4230678747860731682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2008/01/walking-home-alonein-dark.html' title='Walking Home Alone...in the Dark'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-338130826823050410</id><published>2008-01-18T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T07:40:23.884-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sand to My Pearl</title><content type='html'>Wow...I have not posted in this blog for a while.  The poem below is a snippet from a post on my other blog that just seemed right for this one too:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;The Sand to My Pearl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;from Sand i learned falling&lt;br /&gt;slowly&lt;br /&gt;eyes wide open&lt;br /&gt;seeing each layer pass&lt;br /&gt;toward the depths of&lt;br /&gt;in love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;before i had only known&lt;br /&gt;the quick plunge&lt;br /&gt;into bed&lt;br /&gt;even more quickly wed&lt;br /&gt;then gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sand touched me so right&lt;br /&gt;in all the wrong places&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i knew love could be&lt;br /&gt;torture&lt;br /&gt;now i know how&lt;br /&gt;to leave the torment&lt;br /&gt;and carry the love&lt;br /&gt;away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sand scratched&lt;br /&gt;all the old places&lt;br /&gt;where wounds&lt;br /&gt;never sealed&lt;br /&gt;only scarred&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sand taught me to roll&lt;br /&gt;old pain in that womb&lt;br /&gt;where I grow myself&lt;br /&gt;anew&lt;br /&gt;to shine&lt;br /&gt;from behind&lt;br /&gt;wise eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the Sand now Pearl&lt;br /&gt;is you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by blue 1/2008</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/338130826823050410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/338130826823050410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/338130826823050410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/338130826823050410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2008/01/sand-to-my-pearl.html' title='The Sand to My Pearl'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-6393808931620585711</id><published>2007-10-23T15:43:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T15:43:56.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I just saw a strange sad thing</title><content type='html'>I was proceeded into Publix grocery by a little old man with a rather bow-legged walk and bright darting eyes, magnified by big glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked past a bin of avacados and pocketed one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked up the dairy isle, picked up a quart of milk and put it in his cart, opened the Publix sales flier and pretended to read as he scanned the isle with his bug-like eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he thought the coast was clear, he twisted the small side cap from the carton and gulped down half the quart in a matter of seconds.  Moments later he began scanning the dairy as if looking for another purchase, then surreptitiously replaced the half empty carton to exactly where he had plucked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noticing my noticing him, he toddled off with amazing bow-legged speed and disappeared around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said nothing and did nothing.  I thought anything I could say or do would only add to the mixture of embarrassment and defiance I saw when those bugged eyes met mine.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/6393808931620585711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/6393808931620585711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/6393808931620585711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/6393808931620585711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-just-saw-strange-sad-thing.html' title='I just saw a strange sad thing'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-106883844690771170</id><published>2007-10-23T15:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T15:43:21.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a strange sad thing</title><content type='html'>I was proceeded into Publix grocery by a little old man with a rather bow-legged walk and bright darting eyes, magnified by big glasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked past a bin of avacados and pocketed one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He walked up the dairy isle, picked up a quart of milk and put it in his cart, opened the Publix sales flier and pretended to read as he scanned the isle with his bug-like eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he thought the coast was clear, he twisted the small side cap from the carton and gulped down half the quart in a matter of seconds.  Moments later he began scanning the dairy as if looking for another purchase, then surreptitiously replaced the half empty carton to exactly where he had plucked it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noticing my noticing him, he toddled off with amazing bow-legged speed and disappeared around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said nothing and did nothing.  I thought anything I could say or do would only add to the mixture of embarrassment and defiance I saw when those bugged eyes met mine.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/106883844690771170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/106883844690771170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/106883844690771170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/106883844690771170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/10/strange-sad-thing.html' title='a strange sad thing'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-7229008168037406206</id><published>2007-10-15T22:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T09:19:03.881-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="beach"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="honor"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Monday"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poem"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="teacher"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="the now"/><title type='text'>greatest honor</title><content type='html'>when student becomes&lt;br /&gt;teacher and teacher&lt;br /&gt;student&lt;br /&gt;herein lies&lt;br /&gt;the teacher&#39;s &lt;br /&gt;greatest honor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tonight I went out with a man&lt;br /&gt;who had but hours ago been a boy&lt;br /&gt;i was rescued from a woman who&lt;br /&gt;thought herself shrewed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am a mom &lt;br /&gt;i will take care of her&lt;br /&gt;she said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;she is MY mom&lt;br /&gt;let me take care of her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and he took possession of me&lt;br /&gt;and we left that place&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he had called and told me we were going out&lt;br /&gt;he ordered tequila shots&lt;br /&gt;he ordered &amp; ordered&lt;br /&gt;me to shut up&lt;br /&gt;to stop&lt;br /&gt;living&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he told me i lived in the past&lt;br /&gt;he said shhhhhh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we walked on the beach&lt;br /&gt;he said you never answered my question &lt;br /&gt;with a command&lt;br /&gt;that garnered an answer&lt;br /&gt;I gave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he sang&lt;br /&gt;i&#39;m tired and i wanna to go to bed&lt;br /&gt;and gestured&lt;br /&gt;i joined&lt;br /&gt;without choice&lt;br /&gt;we sang&lt;br /&gt;the stars to sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he drove&lt;br /&gt;my car&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i am here&lt;br /&gt;NOW&lt;br /&gt;and he is gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have been&lt;br /&gt;tamed by my own words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i now am&lt;br /&gt;honored&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;present&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no more past&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the student is now the teacher&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all has passed</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/7229008168037406206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/7229008168037406206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/7229008168037406206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/7229008168037406206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/10/greatest-honor.html' title='greatest honor'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-4365617983764327893</id><published>2007-10-12T16:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T16:28:43.433-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="chaos"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="contnetment"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poem"/><title type='text'>contentment &amp; chaos</title><content type='html'>everything around me is in chaos and i haven&#39;t slept in days...&lt;br /&gt;this computer screen is burning behind my closed eyes...&lt;br /&gt;wide open...&lt;br /&gt;closed...&lt;br /&gt;wide open...&lt;br /&gt;closed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;haven&#39;t had a shower or eaten a thing...&lt;br /&gt;can&#39;t remember...&lt;br /&gt;when is when?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;yet &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i am so...&lt;br /&gt;so...&lt;br /&gt;so...&lt;br /&gt;so...&lt;br /&gt;so-so...&lt;br /&gt;content &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;knowing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything i have&lt;br /&gt;and everything i haven&#39;t got....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i chose....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i get to keep it&lt;br /&gt;all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;contentment and chaos &#39;til the day i die...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if i choose...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and i choose...&lt;br /&gt;and i choose...&lt;br /&gt;and i choose...&lt;br /&gt;and &lt;br /&gt;i &lt;br /&gt;choose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........................................................................love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the only thing that isn&#39;t here&lt;br /&gt;now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i choose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;love love love love love love love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;luv, blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/4365617983764327893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/4365617983764327893' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4365617983764327893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4365617983764327893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/10/contentment-chaos.html' title='contentment &amp; chaos'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-1291044552816299433</id><published>2007-10-09T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T13:06:30.464-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="be good"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="francis"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poem"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="prayer"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="saint"/><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="sentiment"/><title type='text'>Prayer of Saint Francis</title><content type='html'>I am really not much of a Christian...but this is just a beautiful sentiment...not matter its origin:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prayer of Saint Francis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;&lt;br /&gt;    where there is hatred, let me sow love;&lt;br /&gt;    where there is injury, pardon;&lt;br /&gt;    where there is doubt, faith;&lt;br /&gt;    where there is despair, hope;&lt;br /&gt;    where there is darkness, light;&lt;br /&gt;    and where there is sadness, joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    O Divine Master,&lt;br /&gt;    grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;&lt;br /&gt;    to be understood, as to understand;&lt;br /&gt;    to be loved, as to love;&lt;br /&gt;    for it is in giving that we receive,&lt;br /&gt;    it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,&lt;br /&gt;    and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Amen.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/1291044552816299433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/1291044552816299433' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1291044552816299433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1291044552816299433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/10/prayer-of-saint-francis.html' title='Prayer of Saint Francis'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-7990546788386863067</id><published>2007-09-16T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T13:04:57.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>house unclearing LOL</title><content type='html'>well...I was supposed to have a house cleansing ceremony last Friday...this is a part of my native american heritage (smudged sage, candles, etc...)...I consulted with a friend who is well versed in these things and he advised that I only include men in the ceremony...as all of the negativity in my life of late has been coiled up in women...and, as he put it, I have enough female energy to send a herd of musking elephants into a frenzy all on my own...LOL...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;men...humph...I once wrote a poem called &quot;some kind of broken&quot; about men (another post maybe)...only one of the 6 men invited actually made it here...4 had very good reasons...ranging from being out of the state, to having to work because of the Jewish holiday, to my having planned this thing on such short notice...the sixth just did not show...i still hope/worry that all is okay with him, as I have heard nothing...but that in itself is a whole &#39;nother story...and that is also quite forgivably &quot;just him&quot;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the house cleansing ceremony needed 3 people...in the version I had planned anyway...and it is okay that the cleansing did not happen because i really had not done all the cleaning I wanted to complete before cleansing...so the bread breaking and wine drinking with the one man who showed was a pleasant substitute...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I will have to have a cleansing after the furniture and stuff is moved in...which was not what I wanted, but oh well...i will find a time for the house cleansing before I have a house warming...and I am looking forward to throwing myself a house warming party...(women included...the right/positive women anyway)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah well...all things in their time....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;signed...pffft...humph....blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/7990546788386863067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/7990546788386863067' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/7990546788386863067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/7990546788386863067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/09/house-unclearing-lol.html' title='house unclearing LOL'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-3755372089626728803</id><published>2007-09-11T02:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T04:30:13.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>flower-child Frankenstein</title><content type='html'>It is strange how being exhausted can let the mind see clearly, with pointed focus...drained and unable to look at more than a single minute bit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am exhausted and have been overcome by these moments of clarity of late...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my body is healing and tired...my mind is wasted and drained...and yet I see things so rawly...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I discovered in listening to my young friend who has deemed me his &quot;mentor&quot; (scary) that truly listening can be both exhausting and revelatory...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been talking a great deal of late...well not so much a great deal...i more have been talking in sporadic torrents...endlessly circling whatever subject happens to be assaulting my mind at the moment...then long silences over take me...silences that make it hard to even give an &quot;h-huh&quot; to those nearby...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one glimpse of clarity has shown me that much of what i say is said out of my own perception of expectations...the world expects that one will be angry at this or frustrated by that...the world expects that one will tell excited stories of ones adventures...so i have been saying the words that show this...rarely deeply feeling any of the anger or frustration...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I speak...sometimes on and on...to fulfill my expected role as a member...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another glimpse has shown me that i speak to hide...i talk about the mundane things to hide the extraordinary (as is odd rather than as in grand) things that i am actually thinking...i am not sure why i do this...the only guess i can make is that i was so often teased as a youngster for my &quot;shyness&quot; (which wasn&#39;t so much shyness as it was a tendency toward acute observation rather than participation)...then i was also teased when i would speak up and what i had to say was so far removed from &quot;the expected&quot;/&quot;the accepted&quot;...so, i think i just started imitating the kind jabbering those around me engaged in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;another moment of clarity showed that i think i speak of some mundane things seeking the affirmation that others are actually seeing what i see...i have often found that i am not perceiving or participating in the generally shared vision or point-of-view...I am not sure i have come to terms with accepting that difference in myself as okay...i don&#39;t think i am crazy or &quot;special&quot;...I just grew up in a very different environment than average...therefore my learned perspective is a bit askew from &quot;the norm&quot;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people who talk a lot are exhausting...maybe that is why so few people enjoy my company lately...this talking a lot thing is new for me...maybe because all things about my life have been so new for me since i lost the hovering protection of my father...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the hardest thing for me to truly understand is why i have taken up this talking...I think it may actually be a way to keep people at a distance...a way to make sure that they don&#39;t get close enough to see inside and discover how truly odd i am...i can no longer run home to daddy where it is safe to just be me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this protective shell may be an instinctual defense as well...i had learned a bit about the nasty nature of people and the world in general before i was thrust out here on my own...and I have learned so much more in these two years...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I have learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-people like mean selfish deceitful bitches...not nice people who genuinely care for others (and try to do so actively/with their deeds as often as they can)&lt;br /&gt;-people do not like people who tell the truth&lt;br /&gt;-people do not like people who don&#39;t need or expect things from others...particularly if those without needs or expectations can provide for themselves&lt;br /&gt;-people DO like people who use other people as a means to gain material things...especially when the users get angry at the usees when the material objects are denied them...and people have even more affinity for those who get openly angry and indignant about not getting what they want&lt;br /&gt;-people think nice people are stupid and weak&lt;br /&gt;-people think that people who &quot;don&#39;t sweat the small stuff&quot; are targets for being used, lied to, unappreciated and slandered...because they don&#39;t throw temper tantrums every time they are mistreated&lt;br /&gt;-people don&#39;t like generous people&lt;br /&gt;-people do not respect other people&#39;s space or belongings...however they expect to have their spaces and belongings respected&lt;br /&gt;-men do not like women who care for and value them as people (rather than as meal tickets or sex objects)&lt;br /&gt;-my parents made a mistake when they undertook this Utopian experiment in child rearing...i know for a fact that i was &quot;programmed&quot; from birth to manifest the things that the collective society claims to be virtuous...I am no saint...no manifest perfection...but i am distasteful in my resemblance to &quot;what&#39;s good&quot;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am truly clinical about my nature lately...I do not see all of this ingrained honesty and generosity and active caring as a manifestation of some higher good...i only wonder...and even suffer...over the fact that i was &quot;made&quot; this way (by parents who i am sure had good intentions)...made the way people claim people should be...the way people often wrongly proclaim themselves to be...and in the end, I am just an unlikable oddity that people seek to disdain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or, for some, the reality of me is an ephemeral figment that people refuse to believe in...people figure i must not be &quot;for real&quot; so they begin attaching ulterior motives to my every word and deed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sick of living out this Pavlovian experiment in virtue...I wonder if it is too late for this dog to to learn a new trick?...to learn to truly be a selfish bitch (rather than just faining the role for show at those moments when i have learned that acting bitchy is more socially desirable than reaching out with compassion...after all, unconditional unsolicited LOVE scares people...bitches are comfortable...because bitches people understand).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no wonder my mother thinks i should move back home...she knows...she may even feel guilty...that i am not ready for such an ugly world world full of ugly hearted people...or is it that the world is not ready for me...the embodiment of a flower-child Frankenstein&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one last thought...why is it that when, after enduring more human &quot;ick&quot; than almost anyone would tolerate, when my virtue finally fails me and i fall from all my grace...why then am i seen as a villain beyond all villains??? when i finally get mad...say i have had enough...tell those who take advantage of my ingrained generosity  to quit their unappreciative demands for &quot;more more NOW NOW&quot;...why am i seen as wrong for balking against usurious greed...while the user is seen as justified in demanding more and more and appreciating less and less--to be patted on the back and coddled by &quot;the people&quot; with warm words of &quot;I know, I know...she had no right to treat you that way...she had no right to tell you the truth about your unappreciative greed...she soooo soooo mean&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this entry is signed...next time just cut off a limb...or the next person in need who crosses my path is getting kicked in the fucking teeth!! Fuck bailing people out...fuck offering moral support...fuck loving the beauty within these bastards...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;signed...kiss blue&#39;s ass...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/3755372089626728803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/3755372089626728803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/3755372089626728803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/3755372089626728803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/09/flower-child-frankenstein.html' title='flower-child Frankenstein'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-5151293685767695675</id><published>2007-09-10T03:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T04:24:18.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>he asked why...he asked who...trust...and words more than weapons</title><content type='html'>&quot;I want you to know me.&quot;  &quot;why?&quot; he asked...I said I did not know...but I think we both do know...I him to know me because I want him...what does it mean to want him?...i truly do not know what all that entails...his company, his companionship, to enjoy all the wonderful things he is...to learn from all the less than wonderful...to bask in his brightness...to explore and discover on his dark places...to learn to trust and understand him him in all of his multiplicities...most of all to experience my own feelings again...for so long my feelings/emotions have been locked away...and without knowing why or that it would happen...whoosh...he makes me feel...the deepest and warmest things &amp; and the shallowest of joyous things &amp; the painful and wrenching things...all of it...he also makes me know that i can not grow if i do not feel...I want to know him because he has some power/magic to place me back on the path toward becoming...i hope toward becoming the best of me...or at least a better me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a bizarre experience this week... involving being accused of things i am incapable of...one in which i was threatened...one I choose to allow to be in the past without rehashing it here or anywhere else...yet one piece of it lingers...he asked me over and over if i could think of anyone i had spoken to who might have started the saga by revealing what I had said...as he asked me it crossed my mind that he asked over and over because he knew who...but i did not want to think that he would not just come out and tell me if he knew...after the conversation the question &quot;was it him?&quot; crossed my mind...I will always wonder...but I doubt I will ever ask...because as a part of the next issue &quot;trust&quot; i want to choose to believe that whether it was him or someone else he knew of he would have just told me the truth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want so much to trust this man...it is almost irrational...i did tell him that i did not trust him...that was a truth...he knows he has a way of saying he will be glad to help then never appearing to offer assistance...he knows he has a way of making &quot;dates&quot; then canceling or simply not showing up...i think we had a good honest conversation about the subject...yet afterward I was left with the feeling that two important things were never said...1.  he said more than once that I had trusted him to pick me up in his car (one a short trip, one a gallant long journey that was truly a kind sacrifice...i was disturbed a little by his repeating &quot;you trusted me to drive you...&quot; it troubled me that he may have seen my asking those acts of support from him then stating later that i did not trust him constituted me somehow &quot;using him&quot;...i can only hope that he knows that is so very untrue...my feelings of distrust came upon me suddenly and after both of those great favors...and I appreciate ever little thing and every big thing he has ever done for me...a depth of appreciation I am not sure I could find words to express...i also want him to understand that where my trust is concerned the little things and the big ones hold equal weight...a short trip to the movie theater and an hours-long drive are the same for me in terms of the trust i place in a person carrying through...lastly, there are many layers and kinds of trust...only the layer involving &quot;showing up/ giving of his time&quot; has been damaged with me...I still deeply trust this man not to hurt me (emotionally or physically)...I still deeply trust this man to &quot;be on my side&quot; (speak well of me and help me succeed in my ambitions in any way he can)...I want to regain all levels of trust in him more than I can say...but to repair my trust in his desire to give me the gift of sharing his time will take actions...it will take him actually giving me the gift of his time...right now I feel as though I am not valuable enough to him to receive the gift of his company...only he could change that...if he wanted...if he does not want to change that...I am sure i will eventually abandon my hope and find a place to store that piece of sad disappointment on the internal shelf with the other disappointments that have come to me in my life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in telling him i did not trust him, i admit i used my words as weapons...but in the last conversation we had he called my words &quot;poetic&quot;...yet and still I left that conversation feeling that the impression he held foremost in his mind was the one of my words as daggers...I truly hope he also sees/remembers that my words iterate love and praise and find their way to describing the beauty in this world...sometimes in ways that others can find quite moving...even, sometimes, in ways that bring people to see wonder they had never noticed before...my words can be my armor and weapons...yes...but that is not the majority of what my words convey...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well...it is a moving on time in my life...I have known this for some months now...I had thought that moving on necessarily meant moving away...but i have come to realize that there are many things I have yet to learn from being here...though I would never burden anyone with the responsibility of &quot;being the reason i stayed&quot;...well, to be fully honest...i do not think anyone could be the reason I stay...at least I have not found that bond with anyone yet...that said...I will also be totally honest and admit...though it is certainly not the entire reason...having a chance/giving myself a chance...to know this man (if he will give me the chance) and having him know me played at least some part in my choice to stay...but if that chance is not given...I will not regret having stayed...there are many other factors...it is important to me that he does not feel &quot;pressured/responsibilities&quot; by or for my remaining...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to you let someone know that they are important to you...for apparently no reason at all...I wish I could share time with him...but not sharing time does not make him any less important to me...it does not diminish my view of him a a beautiful, unique blessing in the world...it does not diminish my wish that more people could truly see that in him...he is by no means saintly or perfect...but he is unique..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the fact that he makes me feel:  the writer Eckhart Tolle speaks to the fact that we can not grow unless we face what he calls our &quot;pain body&quot;...I choose to believe that, equally, we can not grow if we do not face our &quot;joy body&quot;...to face either of these things we (humans) much be in touch with and deeply experience our feelings as tools for learning of ourselves and our connection to the universe...it has been true that I have been emotionally and spiritually stagnant because I simply did not feel...Tolle also says that, if two people can make a conscious pact to share in the process of growth, even the negative feelings they spark in one another can be a point of learning....i believe that this is equally (more than equally) true of the wonderful feelings that can only arise from sharing of ourselves with others...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has told me that my saying I love him scares him, he has told me that he shies from the way in which I stir long hidden emotions in him...i do not want to bring him discomfort...so i will understand his keeping a distance from me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am busy now...so many changes in my life...but i will think of him fondly and often in the quite spaces between the hustle and bustle...i can only wait and see if I am lucky enough/worthy enough for him to find me a desirable use of his time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he is always in my wishes and prayers for wellness and joy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ah well...time to get back to the cybergrind and the brick and mortar chaos...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as always....love blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/5151293685767695675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/5151293685767695675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/5151293685767695675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/5151293685767695675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/09/he-asked-whyhe-asked-whotrustand-words.html' title='he asked why...he asked who...trust...and words more than weapons'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-4570522167870482503</id><published>2007-08-27T15:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T15:48:54.525-07:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="poetry"/><title type='text'>Of The Flesh by Carl Phillips</title><content type='html'>If the sea could dream, and if the sea  &lt;br /&gt;were dreaming now, the dream  &lt;br /&gt;would be the usual one: Of the Flesh.  &lt;br /&gt;The letter written in the dream would go  &lt;br /&gt;something like: &quot;Forgive me -- love, Blue.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Carl Phillips from his book Cortege</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/4570522167870482503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/4570522167870482503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4570522167870482503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4570522167870482503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/08/of-flesh-by-carl-phillips.html' title='Of The Flesh by Carl Phillips'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-1187933635514340697</id><published>2007-08-03T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T23:33:04.722-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wow</title><content type='html'>I did not plan on going out tonite...but I spent great time with GREAT people...met some young guys tonite...ambitious fresh...could not do the crowd dancing thing at the club around the corner, so I went immediately outside to sit...and WOW andy sat down just to get off his feet...instant new friend with the same thoughts...he even gave me the slips of paper from his wallet of favorite affirmations he has collected LOL...I think he said most of them came from a book I have not read &quot;The World Greatest Manager&quot; or something like that...his friend Mike was a joy too...a guy out with his sister at a club and who is moving away to follow his dreams of being a musician...and who left the club to apologize to a girl for following his dick rather than his reason...he said it was better to confess than to use moving in two days to run away...how refreshing in one so young...wow...before meeting those two I had a great time with anthony and chad and met nikki and smiled and laughed with jeanie...met the two french guys and the beautiful pat...wow...and I wasn&#39;t going to go out tonite...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;signed...far from blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/1187933635514340697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/1187933635514340697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1187933635514340697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1187933635514340697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/08/wow.html' title='wow'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-4356911672641162622</id><published>2007-08-03T10:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T11:00:36.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>where does one draw the line</title><content type='html'>I have made the mistake in the last week of vacillating and compromising my conviction not to let my roommate borrow the car. I had determined that, for many reasons, I was not going to let her borrow the car I am borrowing.&amp;nbsp; One of the main amongst those being that she is a grown woman who does not have a car of her own.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;My only trouble is my wondering, &quot;Who am I to be the one who drives home the message that grown people in our society, in our city, need to have cars!&quot;...who am I NOT to just be simply generous and let her drive.&amp;nbsp; Who am I to judge differences between going to an office appointment with professionals and a trip to the beach?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then again, is it right for me to perpetuate making it easy for her to not take responsibility for having a car.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then again, is it even good for my own fortune to live in any form of selfishness and scarcity...is it not true that the only way to make good karmic causes toward having my own needs met is to  do my best to be as generous as I can in meeting the needs of others...is &quot;living in scarcity or miserliness&quot; not one of the hells that poses and obstacle to enlightenment?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;It does not feel right to deny her...yet it does not feel right to give give give in a way that makes it too easy for her not to do do do for herself...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Is there a difference between a need to go to an appointment and a want to go to the beach?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Can I, should I, be the judge?&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;You know though...her current stomping around the house making as much noise as possible in frantic random acts of cleaning, ever since I told her no about the car, is pissing me off a little...and her turning on a movie in the living room (where I am), then going into her bedroom and turning up music LOUDLY...all while she knows I am trying to work (or was trying) is beginning to PSS ME OFF&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;...and instead of feeling justified in being pissed...I feel like I should be more in control of my own mind  thoughts and emotions than to let her &quot;get to me&quot;...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I really can&#39;t stand this state of being annoyed...I really need to LIVE ALONE...or maybe live with someone who wants to be living with me (for my company...because my presence can offer them some small comfort...because they know that their company offers me the same...like a cat or a dog, maybe)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I have learned things about sharing space with my first not family roommate...I am wondering if I have learned all I can here though...I almost wish I did not like the location where I live so much...I wish I felt it was easier to move on...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/4356911672641162622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/4356911672641162622' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4356911672641162622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4356911672641162622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/08/where-does-one-draw-line.html' title='where does one draw the line'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-401830046421171811</id><published>2007-08-01T14:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T01:46:31.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>can&#39;t get it straight</title><content type='html'>why can&#39;t I get hold of the need to know people?&amp;nbsp; I am soooooo unimpressed by the &quot;who&#39;s who&quot; that I wonder if I am socially afflicted or something.&amp;nbsp; I see, quite often, people reaping the benefit of know the &quot;who&#39;s who&quot;.&amp;nbsp; Yet, I do not want to know them...I guess I really don&#39;t want to know much of anyone...a few close friends...a few members of my burgeoningly large family...that&#39;s it...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I guess I just can&#39;t see how running in social circles...or an other kind of circles... is going to enlighten my soul...I can&#39;t seem to make any direct connection between knowing people and deepening my soul&#39;s capacity for compassion toward humanity as a whole (or even people as individuals at a time of need).&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;i want to be quiet and learn...but maybe that is the selfish path...or maybe not...I think I might be better off in some circumstances if I knew more people to turn to for help...then again if I knew a plethora of people to help me, I may never help  myself...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I wish I lived alone.&amp;nbsp; But I am glad for the things I have learned from sharing space...I have had to face many things that had not come into my sphere of knowing before...though some may be considered suffering...these learning experiences have opened my eyes...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;alone...yes...ah well..i am where i am for now...&lt;br&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/401830046421171811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/401830046421171811' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/401830046421171811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/401830046421171811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/08/cant-get-it-straight.html' title='can&#39;t get it straight'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-1786405729715442642</id><published>2007-07-26T09:33:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T10:04:18.647-07:00</updated><title type='text'>stairway to heaven, meditation, &amp; he&#39;s gone to atlanata</title><content type='html'>How long has it been since i last sat in a car and sang the entire song Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin while the guy in the seat next to me played air guitar with his eyes closed?  I could not say how long it had been before last night.  Sometimes it is great to revert to childhood...it allows one to feel like there may be more life left to come than one might think :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to meditation class/lecture at the local Buddhist temple on Tuesday...I liked it...I think I will go again next week...my chiropractor was there...he doesn&#39;t talk much...well truthfully I think it was my chiropractor who encourage me to go...I need something, ANYTHING, to &quot;ease my worried mind&quot;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after meditation on Tuesday I went to a goodbye party...the guy who kissed me in go-go booth, took my face in his hands and declared I was the kind of woman a man could fall in love with, marry and stay with for the rest of his life, took me night sailing (well that was something that happened while he was dating my whore of an ex-best-friend actually)...that lovely gentleman is gone...I did get to dance with him one last time (an indulgence my back is still punishing me for today)...he also took the time to shout my name down the bar, in front of everyone (including his girl friend and his parents), then declare that I was &quot;truly beautiful&quot;....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not realize that all of the women in the room had some connection to him until he requested that the piano player sing &quot;To All the Girls I&#39;ve Loved Before&quot;....LOL....at least he danced with his girl friend for that song...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I got the chance to tell him how much I had loved the night sailing and thank him for that experience...it still ranks among the best I have had in my whole life...exhilaratingly...truly...and to thank him for being a gentleman...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked me, in front of everyone at the piano bar, to come home with him and stay while he slept a bit before heading out on his drive to Atlanta...he played it off like he was joking...but something in his face, after we all finished our laugh, seemed misty and a little sad...like he wished he was kidding...like knowing it would not happen was something he&#39;d always regret...yet not regret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So strange how much little flirtations like ours can truly touch one&#39;s heart...we really have not spent very many occasions in one another&#39;s company...and he has always been some other girl&#39;s guy...but I think we both got some sweet solace out of our genuine, yet unfulfilled, affection for one another...warm yet safe...partly because of our shared, yet unspoken, knowledge that &quot;it&quot; was mutual AND not going to &quot;go anywhere&quot; beyond the flirtation...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sad to see him go...even though what I will be missing is not really the man...but the idea of the man...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/1786405729715442642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/1786405729715442642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1786405729715442642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1786405729715442642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/07/stairway-to-heaven-meditation-hes-gone_354.html' title='stairway to heaven, meditation, &amp; he&#39;s gone to atlanata'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-233986335669401924</id><published>2007-07-24T07:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T08:28:50.016-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i see an asshole (a thank you note)</title><content type='html'>I have been getting calls (after calls) from one of my students of late.&amp;nbsp; He used to be my favorite (yeah, I am honest enough with myself and others to admit I am the weak kind of jerk-ass teacher who has favorites).&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Time after time (after time), I do not call him back because all I have seen from in the past few months is a needy, soul-sucking wimpy shadow of himself who always wants something (often money) from me...he wants me to sympathize with his own idiocy and and lack of willingness to shut off the broken record player and end his own pity party...I even got the &quot;I&#39;m sorry I&#39;ve been in a funk and am back to myself&quot; call from him yesterday...I still don&#39;t want to call him back...(Even if he has realized he&#39;s been a soul-sucking downer of late...his repentance&amp;nbsp; feels like a ruse...I&#39;ll just end up at a pity party with a&amp;nbsp; new broken record playing &quot;&lt;span style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;what a jerk my woes have made me&lt;/span&gt;,&quot; by &lt;span  style=&quot;font-style: italic;&quot;&gt;the collective consciousness of every lonely self-absorbed jerk symphony&lt;/span&gt;--with guest whiner Barbara Streisand...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then I say to myself...hey I know someone who won&#39;t return my calls...I recently shut down my own month long pity party (I traded it for horrific physical pain)...it is nearly impossible to be in true physical agony and continue to host one&#39;s own pity party...but why would that someone, or anyone, believe me?...sounds like a ruse...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Well, now I can laugh and say ...cool... THANKS...at least I can use that example to understand... no one wants to spend time staring into the bottom of a never-draining punch cup on the broke ass sofa cushion at someone else&#39;s pity party...I WOULD NOT CALL ME BACK EITHER!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Then again...I would never tell me that I would call...when I knew good and well I would not call...either...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I told that pity partying ex-favorite of mine, on the occasion of my last accidentally  picking up the phone to find him on the other end, in no uncertain terms, that I would not be helping him.&amp;nbsp; I told him I had to concentrate on healing...I even let him know that he was whining and there was nothing I could do for him as long as that was the place where he chose to dwell...kinda assholish of me...I know...but less tactless than just ignoring him..I think anyway....(and, yeah, he still calls since...hmmmmm...)&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;but, I would never offer him my help and then just not show up to give it...not because I am a saint...only because I am to self-pride filled to make myself into a lier just to avoid my distaste for pity parties...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Also, I figure...even if I do not want to deal with my ex-favorite...I owe myself the courtesy and dignity of remaining moderately considerate and polite....&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;...no need to act like and asshole just because I am being one...you know?&amp;nbsp; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The moral of the morality tale????&amp;gt;&amp;gt;&amp;gt;&amp;gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Even if you  need to protect yourself by being and asshole to others (which can often be as innocent an act on your part as not meeting their unfounded expectations), do not lower yourself as a person by being impolite, inconsiderate or outright lying...you are better than that...you owe yourself the dignity of being disciplined enough to just tell the truth...or at least polite enough to offer plausible excuses as you edge you way toward sneaking out the back door...disciplined enough NOT to say you will call, come, go etc. when you know in your heart that you will not..that is lying...no need to lower yourself to lies...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;In other words:&amp;nbsp; Protecting yourself from soul-suckers by any means necessary is as noble as kindness to strangers...so long as...you do the protecting without being inconsiderate or rude...not because the soul-sucker deserves your chivalry...but because you deserve it...how does one put it?&amp;gt;&amp;gt;&amp;gt;&amp;nbsp; because &quot;you are better than that&quot;...so be  disciplined enough to forgo using empty promises (which ultimately turn into LIES) just to save your own ass in the moment...YOU ARE BETTER THAN THAT!!!&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;signed...your friendly neighborhood soul-sucker....&lt;br&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;#32;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/233986335669401924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/233986335669401924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/233986335669401924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/233986335669401924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-see-asshole-thank-you-note.html' title='i see an asshole (a thank you note)'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-4518216963686479942</id><published>2007-07-10T12:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-10T13:06:51.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Covered in Bruises</title><content type='html'>WOW!!  Who knew that bartender Joey (you may recognize his name as associated with my whore of an ex best friend)...Joey&#39;s other life is as a pressure point massage therapist...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I will go into the details of the accident some time later...suffice to say I was gratefully not more injured in a rather nasty car wreck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My session with Joey yesterday has left me both feeling and looking like I&#39;ve been beaten...greeny purple bruises all over...OUCH!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None the less...this session is the most restorative treatment I have had thus far...better even than acupuncture...and acupuncture is pretty good...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anything is worth relieving the pain and swelling in my back and leg...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can&#39;t wait for my next set of bruises !!!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/4518216963686479942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/4518216963686479942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4518216963686479942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/4518216963686479942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/07/covered-in-bruises.html' title='Covered in Bruises'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-1091981851464434081</id><published>2007-06-17T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-17T22:17:47.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>disco living room</title><content type='html'>what a shitty few days...complaints...rotten moods...the urge to RUN RUN RUN AWAY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wasn&#39;t going to return to the apartment this evening...I was in a piss...but talk to dragonspirit and he basically ordered me not to use running as my first line of defense (for once in my life....I am good at running...and, if not running, chasing people away)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so I went back to the apartment (not yet worthy of being called HOME)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and WHOOHOOO...i remembered why I live this woman called roommate...she brings out the cheerer in me...she reminds me how much I like to get stupid and make people smile...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;glass of wine 70s disco channel on the tv music thingy...and the home shopping gala of go-go fantasy funky party begins...WHOOHOO....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;get naked in the living room and let the clothes flinging begin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;boy am i good at making other women look HOT!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(be hot, get everything they want...maybe i should work a little of that magic on myself)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the new car call from the italians came...no more super charged mustang :-(...but WHOOHOO...a convertible pickup truk like monster that eats gas at $60 a tank...put that top down and blast that funky music white girl!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then...is that a rain drop...NOPE...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT A DELUGE....EEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DO NOT I REPEAT DO NOT...try to put the top up while doing 60mph...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pull over in the EXIT ONLY and push the button....weeeer g-ujung..on the road again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;zooomy zooom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;home to hoola hoop in the living room...roommate is starting to get it down...me...heh...i guess won enough hoola hoop contest between 7 and 17...but i&#39;ll keep picking it up off the floor and shaking my ass while i watch it fall...good for giggles...LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;roommate said thanks for a fun evening...i feel the same...i think i remember why i live here now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS PLACE IS A BLAST!!! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;funny roommate and I both agreed that we&#39;ve been in a funk and had some sad shitty days of late...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i guess dragonspirit is right...there is a hell of a lot more to be learned from staying than from running away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;here for at least one more day....hoping that tomorrow will be as much fun as the end of this day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;roommate and i have made a pact to get back to the exercise on the beach rutine we had fallen out of last week...and we&#39;ve given ourselves an assignment:  by morning write the five things we need to do now to create ultimate happiness for our futures...we will take tehm to the beach in the mornign a make a ritual request of the universe for guidance and help...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on my way...signed blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/1091981851464434081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/1091981851464434081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1091981851464434081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/1091981851464434081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/06/disco-living-room.html' title='disco living room'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-2140783555484801827</id><published>2007-06-15T22:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-15T22:54:01.387-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the glitter ball</title><content type='html'>too much to tell all...but worth noting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;roommate and I have firmly decided on this day after the first glitter ball (a tribute to studio 54 at the club) that we love dancing with jeanie...she make us feel SEXY ~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he wore his glasses with side burns and mustache well...what a good sport...so good at having fun is he...what a pleasurable escape from the usual self-conscious tards who won&#39;t just let go and go-go dance with the flow...not a bad dancer...such a kind gentleman...he can come and play with us anytime...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we wore outrageous 70s garb from the costume store...go-go boots six inch platform heels...white glow in the dark eye lashes...fake mustaches and afro wigs...so fun so fun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now...the challenge:  what to wear to the next glitter ball...hmmmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you should be dancin yeaaaaah...blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/2140783555484801827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/2140783555484801827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/2140783555484801827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/2140783555484801827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/06/glitter-ball.html' title='the glitter ball'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-86029227848992261</id><published>2007-06-13T22:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T22:34:51.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hmmmm</title><content type='html'>okay..so now I am in the bathroom throwing up....not really that is just what roommate is telling me some guy on the phone so she does not have to sleep with him...hmmmm&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;tonight I walked out on my favorite 80s band because while dancing i had a comfortable spot next to the speaker while roommate was being bumped by other dancers....she danced into my spot...thus shoving me into hers so the bumpers could bump me instead...she followed me out and swore she had not done such a thing...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;the cute girl gang (asian and white girls i swear are prostitutes) put their purses behind me on the conch and informed me that if anything happened to one of their purses they would be looking for me...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;what the hell is up with the disrespect???&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;the guy who used to date my whore of an ex best friend then kissed me while dancing a while ago got married...he and his wife ended up at the club this evening...yet he saw fit to bump me (butt to butt) as he walked passed  with her...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;what is up with the disrespect????&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;I must have some kinda shitty karma to work through...maybe it was all that sex i had in high school...now i have to PAY...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/86029227848992261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/86029227848992261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/86029227848992261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/86029227848992261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/06/hmmmm.html' title='hmmmm'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-689224267972180761.post-3632418525484131865</id><published>2007-06-09T00:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T01:25:16.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3 italian men cafe bologna and the table</title><content type='html'>took the day off the 6 am walk on the beach...roomie and I need the rest (especially roomie...she noisy sex in her room until very late thurs. night) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;spent the afternoon on the beach...had lunch while roommie negotiated down the price of my bed...watched the shuttle launch on tv...actually put on make up (for once...you&#39;d think I was not a girl fo=rom how much i avoid make up...changed clothes 3 times...ironed help roomie use my make up and brushes...wondered if I shoudl do that...beacuse (as always) my make up is rare and expensive and could be ruined by misuse...but, then again, the fun of playing dress up is always more fun when shared....tehy came to pick us up ant 9 pm///&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;had the BEST dinner tonight with 3 italian men who hardly spoke english all night.  they spoke too quikly and vernacularly for me to catch much of what they said.  Alessandro taught me all about wine tasting/testing.  I got to know roommate&#39;s friend minolo...he swears he is 26 but looks 14 LOL.  Dinner was beautiful tasty excellent fun...caprisi salad cut and server at the table...antipasto tower  prosciutto  mozzerlla olives lovely cheeses.  entre was risottos with some sort of curded beef...and the wine was wonderful...wrote the name of the first bottle...fuegoblah blah for second bottle (way past writing by then :-)...roommate and I and alessandro were the only ones drinking wine...alessandro and alberto (he is returning to italy on sunday)_drank italian beer..minolo does not drink...he only weighs 100 lbs wet...i can see why he would not drink LOL...stayed after the resturant closed...think we left about 12:30 am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after dinner we went to the Table night club...Alessandro had taken an obvious liking to me at dinner so..of course...roommate had to keep all of them away from and dance with alessandro all night...this is just my karmic pattern...women near me try to covet ALL of the men...no hard feelings...I hung out with the club manager at a table in the back most of the night...when i wasn&#39;t dancing myself sweaty...lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DL OZ took it upon himself to admonish me in some way over the mic each tim ei was on the dance floor...&quot;behave yourself&quot;...&quot;i need a hug&quot; he woudl say (along with my name)..made me feel special ...at least as until I finally fiogured out he was just getting an in with me to get to roommate...he asked her for her numer and for a date...ah well, again ...just my karma...special to no one unless it gets them closer to someone else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;had a great time sharing to big bathroom stll with Jeanie...my necklace snapped and sent expensive presious metal bead skittering across the bathroom floor...i was honored at the way ALL of the women in the bathroom suddenly band together and picked up every single on of those tiny little beads...then a man outside made an envelop out of a paper from Jeanie&#39;s purse...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;roommate use my necklace as an excuse to send the italians home and stay at the club...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;club wound to a halt and roomie and i were stuck with no ride home...we started to walk when minolo called from the road...italians returned...off to siesta...alberto had not seen OUR ocean...went to parking #8...could not see the water...so I directed them to a place to beautiful man had once taken me to...alberto loved the broken peer...though it was hard to explain to him what it was (pesco...broken...i said...i think he finaly understood)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;italians brought us home and siad caio and kissed our cheeks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what a wonderful night!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smiling tired and half intoxicated 4 at am...must get some rest exercise walking the beach in the am).....blue</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/feeds/3632418525484131865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/689224267972180761/3632418525484131865' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/3632418525484131865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/689224267972180761/posts/default/3632418525484131865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bluestocking4u.blogspot.com/2007/06/3-italian-men-cafe-bologna-and-table.html' title='3 italian men cafe bologna and the table'/><author><name>blue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04654974858445027423</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='31' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqR3FG35yNJrgDx51CMWYhFIrL_88xFStiwkrFTKX90uaGudd-7GAB45ObG6A5yD6flZifquR0txTdtmGMPC0HQO50G4Ig9BuUJUh_qfG4ZZFcypOUZlosHzDTTp9EZg/s220/bluebutterfly.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>