I share of the pictures

I'm not sure what has prompted this but here it is. Three random pics (two recent, one not so recent) for you to look at.











The apocolypse came while I was away.












So much love for Miss Drella Jones-Public.

















Danger(space)Kitty's shoes found a friend.

When selfless becomes selfish and hopefully back again (2)

Thanks to all my boys. I'm a lucky man in so many ways.

RICA

Reading

Instruction

Competence

Assessment

The most painful and grueling test I've faced yet. Admittedly it's no LSAT or MSAT or any of the other horrifying standardized tests. It was still remarkably unpleasant, and not something I wished to repeat, luckily, I won't.

When selfless becomes selfish and hopefully back again

Up and down,
teetering,
the tide of response and repose.

Mending of fences still hot from destruction.

The emotive state is more volatile in its positioning.

Dangerous to tamper with,

still more dangerous when left alone.

This healing process,
riddled with peaks and valleys,
wears souls thin.

This learning curve can be grueling,
each party wearing readers to decipher small print while trying to look over the thin frames at the horizon looming.

With time our eyes will adjust.

The landscape will level.

Our place on the curve will peak,
leaving us at the top with more tools in our shed,

A library of knowledge to wield .

A renaissance of relating wtihin means yet unknown.

In two lives apart,
yet not lonely,

Not missing,

Not hurting,

Just being.

Get yo gay on

Pictures from the homoventure



Porch Peopes




Ninny and the brothers.



Ninny, Danger(space)Kitty, and Miss Drella Public go grunge at the Falcon curb.




All I needed was some chocolate pudding.

Exhaustion

I'm really tired after this weekend. Mondays really are the worst day of the week it seems. The kids were being crazy and my patience was getting ever shorter as the day progressed. I actually found myself looking forward to this week as it will give me chance to rest, we'll see if that happens.

In other news, I received the official notice in the mail today:
I Passed The RICA!!!! I Passed The RICA!!!! I Passed The RICA!!!!

Against my better judgement

Against my better judgement I started watching Aeon Flux (the movie) tonight (at a time when I shouldbe sleeping). It's actually quite pretty. Tothe point that I really wish to finish watching it, but it would not be a wise decision. Mmmph. But really, Charlize Theron, Jonny Lee Miller, so beautiful.

I really need to get out of America again. Europe is beckoning again. Brittain Specifically. I must obtain employment first, then I can pursue more travel. This bug of the travel (the travel bug) is quite a nuisance. I'm not sure how it came. It happened gradually, over years of wander lust gone awry. Now it's out of hand. If I do not travel every few months I feel anxious. New York was not satisfying, it was more an appetizer. Now I'm faced with no money and no time to escape and the desire to do so is near excruciating.

In time I suppose. In time.

With the season

I've decided that self esteem is seasonal. It seems that there are two times in the year when, for whatever reason, I feel capable.
Don't get me wrong, there are always certain things that I feel confident in throughout the year. But there are these times where I feel totally confident in my self, as though a thin sheath of light comes into my mind and murmers "hey, you are good enough." It tends to come at times when transition is nigh though not yet present. When life altering events are around the corner still out of view.
In my current state this corner is the end of my credential program. I feel like I'm finally on the edge. The edge of what I'm not sure. But there is this sense that I have what is needed for whatever is to come. I know, from past experience, that this feeling is fleeting. It will fall away around the time that I plunge myself into the situation that is most trying. For instance, I moved to Portland on this feeling. I plunged myself into an unknown city with only one acquaintance (whom I still think the world of THANKS JULES!!!!) and came out three years later with all these amazing life experiences. But when I first got there I had no idea what I was doing. I just arrived with a beat up Honda full of shit. The first year was rough and uncomfortable, filled with awkward gaps of questioning and insecurities. Then, after three years of living the Stumptown-life-fantastic, I fled again. I plunged back into family life in the land of manicured lawns, asphalt, and smog. I arrived here looking for the future and got caught up in the past. I struggled through another period of self reflection and self abasement. Now I look around me and see what I've overcome, what I'm dealing with daily, and what I will take on, and feel capable. I fear that, come the end of my program, my hopeful employment, and ensuing trials, I'll face another period of disillusionment where I wonder why I placed myself in the situation.
I suppose at least these periods of extreme transition are entertaining in the emotional sense. You never know what will stab you and what will tickle. In this sense I truly am ready and for that I'm thankful (if not excited). I should revel in the sense of self worth. let's just hope it's not unfounded and that I do have the necessary goods to make it work. The only way to know is to try.

Slow Like Honey

I was listening to Fiona Apple on the front porch just now. A recent trip to the Silver Fox here in LB with Master Spiziri (whom I have decided to henceforth refer to as: Mr Says relax) his brother and Vic led to this activity. It was a fine evening for the most part (the only exception being some unfortunate news and events occuring within another friend's life). Eventually Mr Saysrelax and I were the lasts out and about. We strolled to the binder for the karaoke and I browsed. Now, I should make it clear that I have only once sung Karaoke and it was in high school with a friend and japanese exchance students to the beetles (a group I do not particularly like). I've attempted once or twice since then, once I chickened out, the second time I was never given an oppurtunity. This browing led to the re-discovery of the First album released by Ms Fiona Apple. I was pleased to see it there in the laminated pages of the binder. Today I sat down and listened to my two favorite songs on the album.
They are exquisite in their nearly understated reference to emotive quality. They're subdued yet evocative. It made me so pleased to hear it that I've decided that the next time I'm in a Karaoke environment and a piece by her is available, I must force myself to get up and sing it. I will destroy it of course, but I will feel better knowing I tried.

I'm not exactly sure why I decided to share this thought with the world, but there it is.

I'm high like heaven, I'm strong like music, but I'm slow like honey and heavy with mood.

I love it.

Dog Bite

Moods carry like contageons,

Ice on the wind, melting and dissipating,

Chilling the world as it drifts.

Fraelty revealed in the emotions of those surrounding,

fraelty revealed in one's self.

Memories of comfort dispelled by hostility, nips to the face destroying trust.

All are succesptible to the flares of the virus, spreading cold to all reaches of being.

Bath

Liquid settled taught around his thighs.

Seeping slowly up the flesh to meet the air at waist level.

Thin sheets of tiny bubbles, pockets of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon,

escaping from unseen crevaces, fleeing the depth.

The warmth.

All subtleties lost in the moment of submersion,

Shamelessly bare for the emptiness.

The heat travels outward from loin to digit,

seeping through porcelain, flesh, and bone.

His thoughts idly stagnate on occurences past,
Fantasies reborn,
Pain unburried.

Slipping lower, the fluid consumes him.

Devouring rib, limb, and neck.

Nibbling at lobes and lips.

He draws farther into the solace of water,

Body lifting with shuddering breaths.

A bouyant raft in an ocean too small for its mass.

Drifting deeper and deeper to the solid, hard beach, of the edge.

For one moment he is no one.

Not child or senior,

Not son, brother, or friend.

Just flesh, bone, and water.

Rising and falling with breathes unbidden yet not unwelcome.

Futures and pasts pan out on the title shore,

Opalescent refractions of lost life yet to be formed.

For now it is safe here, a coffin of water.

Solid in its fluidity,

Transitionary state,

Soon it will pale in the cool of the room,

Spend its warmth on reflection and drain away,

Slowly drawing its solace down through the pipe work.

Washing wasteful thorughts away with the waste of the flesh.

Until then he will lie there half floating,

half sinking

Content in stagnation.

For the time being.

Munchkin a go go

I'm tired. Admittedly, it's Thursday night, and by this point in almost any week I'm exhausted. This week has seemed excessively grueling and oddly quick. It seems like the never ending Sunday night that started the whole thing has now led to the expeditious demise of the bastard five days.

Today I had my first observation in my new placement. It was my first, well....I don't want to say awful, or even bad, but definitely not good observation. The rugrats had apparently been mainlining crack under the desks after lunch, for as soon as my lesson began they started to go haywire. I plowed through the lesson and tried to get them under control, while trying to maintain that delicate balance between fun and disciplined, but to no avail. My supervisor was very understanding. Not at all bothered by the situation, simply gave advice about what I might do next time, and said that the mistakes I made I would learn in time not to make. I didn't really feel too bad about the whole thing myself, just tired. Now I'm home, trying to figure out what I'm doing for Misseur Francis' b-day tomorrow and wishing I was more mentally stable at the moment (oh, and might I add more financially stable? That would be nice too).

Never the less, tomorrow will be splendid somehow.

I still have a portrait to finish as well. I'm mostly finished with the thing, but it's at that awkward stage where the final tweaking hasn't rendered it believable yet, instead it's sort of....off. It's just not right. It's almost unsettling, as though a demented drunk cartoon was looming out at me in black and white from the drawing board. If I don't manage to mtoivate to finish it tonight so that it may be whisked away to it's commissioner then I'll have to find another way to get it to her, which, I suppose I'd rather it just go tomorrow.

Bah! I'm going to quit my job (hey I'd save money!) and become a homeless alcoholic. I'll hang out on the corner and beg for change for my liver and simply neglect to tell the innocent passersby that it's to pickle rather than fix the thing. OOOH! OO! OOOOOO!!!! I could give handjobs for smack! Yes!