Okay With Selfing

Sunday, 24 August 2014; 1600; Weather: Pleasant, Calm, Bright
Teaz Me – Chico, CA

So many things to think about…and being very okay with the prospect of talking to myself.  🙂  Writing is a rather private, intimate way of sharing my thoughts with myself.  I’ve found that oftentimes letting my thoughts flow out  and then organizing them into something I can see, something tangible, allows me to distribute the appropriate accompanying feelings. 🙂  This being said and comprehended now, I feel like I am finally okay with letting go and letting some thoughts flow.

For starters, I don’t think I am legally eligibile for CalFresh Government Food Assistance anymore.  I am not sure though.  All I know is that I work a lot…a LOT.  As far as I feel like, I do pretty much nothing BUT work (and hang out with Jordan..)  However, it seems counterintuitive that the MORE they help you the LESS you DO.  O.o Doesn’t that seem odd to you?  I mean really, the government’s assistance programs are less considerate than most basic video games, varying factors included.  The thing seems to be, in actuality, an enabler of the lazy, unmotivated, and non-contributors of society.  I know that, in theory, it’s supposed to be a plan that gives a leg up to those who are “most in need” of it, but what it really seems to come down to oftentimes is a hand-out for the bums and imprudent self-entitlers of the American welfare system.  As much as I’ve enjoyed not having to factor in food costs for each monthly budget, I am going to have to collect up all my pay stubs and go on to to get things all figured out.  I am also greatly curious about legal ways to negate the seizing of taxes directly out of my income.  I’d like to learn more about the various programs in effect on my life and become skilled at navigating and taking control of them.  I wonder if there are incentive programs out there to assist single, sober, young, hardworking people with obtaining clean, safe, sustainable, long-term housing options. 🙂

In any case, today is international go-topless day.  I am still deciding against making an appearance.  It felt more like a writing kind of day for me.  Still, how often does a group of open hearted, loving people come together for such a liberating experience? 🙂  It’s feeling very cold here in Teaz Me.  I may ride home, drop the laptop and bag, put on some chonies, and head on over there.  I guess I’ll see if I muster up the conviction to show my Self today.

I’ve given a bit of thought to being naked, physically and spiritually recently.  When I was at Harbin, in no way did I mind it.  Yet, I still felt shy and violated thinking about that one man in our Yoga group seeing my body unclothing.  What was it about his piercing gaze that alerted me?  Why was I so concerned about seen?  Even though my massage therapists have seen me completely naked, I still felt exposed and vulnerable taking my dress off in front of them when we had our outside, moonlit massage session.  What is it about the transition that is so delicate, while the states themselves are so effortless and wholesome?  Hmm.

Portions and eating are going a lot more smoothly now.  I don’t have to distress when I am going through the sensation of feeling hungry anymore.  I know there will be meals for me.  I find that I feel the urge to impulse-eat a lot less when I feel secure in my Self, my purpose, and who I am.  I also find support and encouragement in my sister and best friend.  They both have taken drastic steps toward increasing the overall health of their bodies and they look fantastic and sexy.  Both, however, use some sort of less-than-desirable sustenance on a rather frequent basis.  My best friend drinks too much alcohol too often and my sister smokes pots pretty regularly.  It makes me sad to think of either one of these things.  I feel that the use of mood-altering, presence-dulling substances creates distances between myself and those other people.  I often feel alone when I think of this.

Feeling as sad as I was of late, I opted for a walk in the dark in the park this last Sunday.  I walked from my house to the restroom house near the Nature Center and managed to not cross a single living soul within eye perception — not a dog, cat, bird, squirrel, bat, jogger, walker, or biker in sight on the entire journey.  At some parts, it seems so dark that I began to feel fear of unknown darkness.  When I began to feel afraid, I simply remembered to look up.  The gaps in the trees allowed me to view the sky and stars.  This showed me where the path was so I started running.  All in all, it was a wonderful and connected natural experience.  I tried to write lyrics to a poem or song, but nothing seemed willing to flow forth from me but basic lines and cliches in rhymes.  It seems that the application of rules and guidelines for “how” to write something are still very powerful memes in my life.  It’s hard to feel comfortable creating because of this stigma and self-limitation.  The only real release I felt with that night’s creative processing was when I simply allowed myself to make blatant statements about whatever it was I knew was bothering or upsetting me.  When I simply said, “I am sad that my sister is smoking.  I worry about her.  I love her.  I miss my sister.” I broke out with fresh tears acknowledging the sorrow that results from our separation.  I suppose that honesty really IS the first chapter in the book of wisdom.  Perhaps this is why it is so hard to connect with those I perceive as liars.

On this note, I was told by a close friend recently that another mutual friend of ours has been misrepresenting herself as a faithful Muslim woman – following the tenants of her religion and sporting her conviction with impassioned posts and the donning of hijab.  I now feel turned off by the knowledge that she drinks alcohol and engages in casual sexual encounters of various kinds and then goes around labeling herself a Muslim.  Don’t get me wrong – I am fine with Muslims.  I am fine with those who choose to be open about their drinking habits and their sexual choices.  I am not fine with those who mix up their own self-affixed convictions and fail to comprehend the weight of truth on their reputations and our overall culture.  I feel betrayed and angry.  I accept her as she is.  I don’t approve of her deceptions and failure to portray the truths.  What it comes down to is that I am rather protective of my loved ones and rather inclined to be trusting.  I don’t like being tricked or lied to.  It ruins friendships.  Please, just be honest with me.  Your attractiveness rating just plumetted from a tight 97 down to a ghastly 17 because of this…horrible.

It’s cold here.  It’s 1847 now and I’m feeling very cold and really sexually aroused, oddly enough.  I know that we’re all sexual creatures at some level, but it’s rarely that I’ll feel genuinely “turned-on” by something or someone.  I find myself missing someone I barely know and have shared even less time with.  Why does he stimulate me so much?  It is true that we shared a sexual, beautiful night together.  Had he been closer to my age or older at the time, I believe we might have gone all the way and shared hot, steamy sexual intercouse with one another.  As it was, though – I was quite loudly distracted by how much younger his body is than mine.  Yes, he was 19 and I was 23.  It might not seem like such a loud, note-worthy distance.  However, it is a big deal while the body is still changing and maturing.  Although it was dark and I loved the way his warm body felt pressed up firmly against mine, I was acutely aware of my perception of the situation as myself taking advantage of a hormone-driven, insecure, developing adolescent.  He was, and is, quite enamored with me.  I find him attractive too in so many ways…still, I couldn’t help feeling like a disconnected, confused, and over-stimulated kind of intellectual pedophile.  I know it’s odd.  As time goes on and we talk more – I feel more and more undeniably attracted.  I wonder if I will know him when he’s a full-grown man.  We very nearly went through with some beautifully connected sex acts on another evening after that…  Perhaps fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, he himself called the night off after deciding that his emotional feelings were too deeply compromised and he was planning on moving; he said he didn’t want to hurt his heart and miss me.  I knew I would also miss him.   Time makes me better at this “presence” thing, though.

I am preoccupied wondering if my bike has been stolen.  I think I’ll pack up and head home now.  It’s been very nice talking and listening to myself again for a while today.  There is still so much more I would like to explore and contemplate.  For now, even the last 3 hours have been solidifying and empowering.  It’s great to know I still have my own thoughts, wonderings, and feelings.  I like inventing words, also.  I wonder if one day, I’ll be okay with distributing these raw, open feelings.

Happy Sunday. 🙂


– 1900

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