Sleep told from 3 persepctives

Sleep..

Streetlight hits me from all four windows, while I give comfort and warmth to her. She keeps me close and wears me like water. I swirl with every leg kick, every twist from shoulder to shoulder. She is my gardener. I am the field of flowers she lays down in. Hot or cold wind, flattened or swirled, I know that she owns me. (I have no say for who comes and goes.) I can feel hot air swirling at opposite corners of my garden. This warmth only adds to the power of my cheerful flowers. It is my true sunlight. I hear the magic words spoken to work like poppies, begging her to sleep.  She puts her head beneath my flowers and begins to till at my garden once again.

                It’s 12:50! I’ve been trying to sleep for an hour. My mind can’t seem to stop racing with fear.  My stomach is having a strange conversation with me due to the Aleve I took for my aching jaw or from the all the water I drank it down with. The Ayurvedic sleep gels have not lead me to sleep, but instead left a taste of orange on my tongue. My eyes are painfully frustrated from exhaustion. As it sits by my bedside, there is still a hint of my favorite soothing candle in the air. Atop my comforter, my laptop illuminates a happy floral print. I have the sound of my heater in my right ear and The Bachelor Party episode of Angel playing in my right. I usually fall asleep by the line, “Cordellia, this is my wife.” Not so tonight though. I throw the comforter entirely over my head and shift my body again and again.

Mom gave me food a while ago and said a word that means she wants to sleep. Mom always puts noise and light by her head. I like sleeping with her most nights cause I love my mama, but tonight she keeps waking me up. Her toes aren’t happy like mine. I feel the floor shift and it makes my head and paws move. My eyes become ajar and my ears hear too much commotion. I think I should move, but when I lift up my head, mom’s claws are coming toward my head. Her “long toes” and claws feel good and so I lay my head back down. Mom smells like something, but it isn’t my food. I flop my spine against her foot. I stretch my front paws way out, but she has moved her other toes too far away to reach them.

My gardener has been under the sunlight too long. I feel her foot plow through and out one corner of the field. Like a tidal wave she unearths her head. Her arms, now also, weigh heavy on me. I start to flux and crumble like the tides. She awakens the white beast for the twentieth time. My owner is soft, but this small creature is softer and scarier. He blames me and is angry. I have not comforted her and will be punished. My petals are swallowed and spit out. They are stomped on until they are tucked against my gardener, who now wears these flowers like chains on her legs.  I take my punishment and then the white beast’s attack is called off. I fear he may stay and sleep in the field, but instead is sent away to watch from above in his guard tower.

This isn’t working. My hair is starting to feel hot and heavy. My body won’t rest. I feel too hot. I feel every tingle in every toe shouting at me.  My whole body wants to be able to just be and stay still, but it’s too hot to stay this way. One leg comes up for air, but I still hear my head shouting, “Where will you live? When will they tell you all that they aren’t saying? How will they try to control you next?” Fuck this. I am awake and angry. I don’t want to feel so angry right now. I want to sleep. Shit.. I WOKE UP Jarvis too many times and he is pissed or waking from a nightmare or something. He starts to straddle my leg and naw and bite and tuck the fabric tight around each leg. I suck. I have failed him and now I have to try and salvage this sleeping arrangement. I throw down my comforter away from my fevered face and arms. I attempt to reset the night by lifting up his perfect furry body, but he won’t have it. Off he takes across the bed and (one, two jumps!..) into his cat tower to roost alone.

My gardener reshapes new hills and valleys, folding her shadow across many of the flowers. A cool breeze begins. Her shadow removed, she casts a new spell. I hear the rain. It falls across the air.  It falls on all of the petals. It falls on her. It falls over the white beat up high. She puts her crown over her eyes and lays down to find sleep.

I have to sleep. I lurch my body across the bed and change my heater to a cool breeze. I leave my Netflix on, but seek out a bookmarked page of rain and thunder. One storm to silence the other in my racing mind and heavy heart. I put on my pink bear sleep mask and try to melt away into my pillow.

What was that? I hear more noise and my tail gives a twitch to see what has happened and returns itself to the circle. I press my spine against the walls of my tower and my head against some pink feathers and go back to sleep.

I think of a short time ago that I was kept away from light before my gardener took me out again. I know I can give her comfort and wonder why she does not let me do this always. I know I can get dirty, but what are flowers without soil? If this does not favor her, she can always send a flood and I am bright once more. I hope that she will always make me bright once more.

I drift and pull my mind away from the walls of time: Away from the future that can make me feel helpless, away from a past of aggression and abandonment and away from the hate and toward a love of self. I must accept my body having to stop fighting to sleep. I must accept that will find a safe place for us.

Prrrrrrzzz….prrrrrzzz…. I am happy. I see my mom. We are on the floor and her hand feels nice on my belly. She is smiling. I see boxes on the floor. I’m scared and mom starts to kiss my head. I don’t want to go, but she carries me up high and holds me tight. The boxes are getting closer. I start to struggle and claw. Mom puts me down atop the boxes and I take off running. I run and run and start to see more things I know. I see my tower and I run back to find my mama. The boxes are gone and she has brought me food. I don’t have to leave. I don’t have to go away. I am home. 

--Narrated by my (flower print) comforter, myself and my cat as we try to sleep with the warmth of a heater.--

Feeding the Absent Referent

 “The men… were better hunters than the women, but only because the women had found they could live quite well on foods other than meat.” (Alice Walker)

               Sadly, the roar that many women can be heard making comes from their stomach. In our society, attention toward the health and welfare of women is starved and often women are (truly) starving for others. The U.S. dinner bell does not signal the trough of equality to appear and ask any and all to step up and “pig on out!” The reality is that those who are poorer will eat less food, have access to less medicine and end up receiving lower quality care from both. Even worse is that many women will likely eat very little or low quality foods in order for their children and/or partners to benefit. As a woman, this makes me sad because I know that life should never be about making yourself hollow, but instead should celebrate your abundance. There needs to be consistent recognition for women’s self-worth and a promise to locate empowerment every day.
 

           In her song Death By Chocolate, songwriter Sia belts out, “Death by chocolate is a myth.. Death by crying doesn’t exist..Death by anger, this is true.” I can verify that a heavy

cacao-rich diet doesn’t hurt you and that crying won’t cause death (or blindness for that matter). But death by anger, this is true. The way our body reacts to anger is similar in the way it reacts to when it is being starved or feed troublesome foods. I recently went to Mountain View to see an Talya Lutzker speak about her Ayurvedic cookbook. In her book, she discusses how the five senses are connected to the five elements and that the five elements are organized into three doshas (body types). Any symptoms, illness or disorders are an excess or depletion of one or more doshas. Doshas are the language of Auyrvedic medicine. Part of women respecting our bodies most definitely includes respecting our stomachs. Society has held onto phrases like “trust your gut” and “listen to your gut”, but ones gut is too often un-honored as a trustworthy source. Why is this so?

            There is a disconnection. Patriarchal culture asks women to live by insane reasoning through following contradictive dominant ideologies of womanhood. In fact, we are asked to be connected and disconnected at all times. We are asked to nod along or embody such ideas that as being passive and fragile while bearing and raising a child. This being the case, not just in the U.S., but all over the world, is it any wonder that woman have a history of being disenfranchised? Is it any wonder that the majority of those who starve are women? Access to food and medicine is too often out of reach, not to mention attaining an education on both. Because such problematic societal structuring exists, “going with your gut” is not always as instinctual as it could be. In 2012, RaceForward(.org) reported that 40 million households in the U.S. suffer from lack of access to adequate foods and 111 million people are classified as obese. Women of color are confronted with the experience of this death-defying tightrope walking more than others. 

            With all of the images presented to consumers daily, the thousands showing women’s bodies, revealing to us these tiny tummies, how come we are never left to think about those that are left hungry? Most often, the implication lingering from an ad that features a woman is the need for something else to be filled. On behalf of all women, I state (as fact) that death from lack of sex is not a thing, but death from lack of food actually is. “Economy is the bone, politics is the flesh. Watch who they beat and who they eat.” (Marge Piercy) For all of us that are made into absent referents in society, it is our job to be more aware than who would want us placed in hiding. The mindset of those in power is sometimes like that of a bad babysitter. They get paid to tune you out, enforce rules, threaten to get you in trouble with authority figures and likely tell you to “go hide”, only to “seek” after they finish talking to a friend about their problems.

 

A favorite song of mine is called Food by artist Nellie McKay. In her lyrics she spirals up from hopelessness to joy, “For to starve is to hate is to kill is to sin. Better love's on your plate, get your fill and dig in.” That is truly my hope for all women, to eat with love and abundance. Nellie, like me, eats a Vegan diet. I feel that eating a Vegan diet encourages a person to engage with their food on many more levels. For one, it begs for answers to questions and illuminates injustices. I want to point out again, that women are asked to connect and disconnect. Society tells us it is bad to feel “treated like a piece of meat,” but meat is still seen as “king” and meant to be eaten by real men. It’s a bleak message that if in wanting to be with a real men, we must in some ways want to be made a consumable thing.

            I feel that a meal should honor health because food is our history of health. Unfortunately, our country’s history of food honors violence over health. Men have long been seen as being stronger than women and that has also meant that they require more food to maintain this strength, particularly meat. Carol Adams discusses this in her invaluable book The Sexual Politics of Meat. Women, even when pregnant, have been seen as weaker and requiring less food, particularly less meat.  Meat represents virility whereas in vegetables represent weakness and are seen as “feminine foods.” The myth of meat providing superior strength to those superior in a hierarchy fans out into not only gender to race in this country. It is suggested by black historians that one of the reasons that black people were enslaved by white Americans instead of Native Americans is because of the of income made from the slaughter of fur bearing animals. 

            It is tragic that we are not commonly taught to move our minds within the gaps in popularized, patriarchal history. How much more filled with urgency and action we could all be if we could see others oppression more clearly? The absent referent does not stand apart from history. Why do all those seen as absent not stand side by side then? Why not stand together to show that we are not lost or waiting for others to seek us, not absent, but very much found.

Oops!... I Did it Again: Surmounting the Genius

 To read like a writer you have to know something about what type of writer you, yourself, are. I am referring to that which you have “penned” and that which you have expressed vocally. What extravagant statements do you fondly recall making as a group of people took pause and interest? We all need to be able to label what we know as truth or as a lie, even if we find out otherwise later on. These things are required because we each need to be able to rate our level of doubt and know how impressed to be. That lets us be critically aware.

Reading something that I feel is good writing means that my imagination has been called with the utmost sense of urgency. By urgency I also am referring to the first impressions I have of a story. First impressions, written or spoken,  matter because they determine how you get to your next set of impressions. I am a writer and I enjoy writing. I want to tell my story in a way that I have yet to fully define, but I know is authentically to me. Like I said, first impressions are important. I want to communicate an urge toward imagination and a drive that makes me want to write with beauty. I want to stand un-terrified at the center of a  house of mirrors and find that my typed thoughts and feelings were easily reached reflections.. To allow myself (and feel allowed) to write with the kind of beauty and creativity that tends to swim in the puddles left by the storm clouds in my mind.

{I want to produce good writing based on the urge I described above. I want critiques, to be exposed to the genius of others thorough their lens on life and super smart comments. I want to learn what others value in my writing and their overall impression (a.k.a. my overall style). My career path definitely involves writing and I have been cultivating knowledge about my own style for many, many years, but this evolves like everything..}

I feel it's important that you to have something to say about what you write or are reading. This does not require planning. As an actress, I’ve used stream of conscious writing as a tool to enrich characters that I’ve played. For example, let’s say you’re going to be Santa in a play. Stream of conscious writing about a story from Santa’s childhood could reveal that, like you, she also was scolded for clothes bleeding in the wash and turning whites to red. Maybe this made her embrace red and wear it often. Perhaps that is the mysterious feeling you would portray while wearing the suit tied to just that secret. (The thing to remember is, even when you are standing up as someone else, you are standing up for yourself.)

 It's a brilliant thing to kick away limitations. A great rule of improv is that you can always heighten in a scene. Meaning that your imagination is solely responsible for the characters you play or those you interact with. I can always express my feelings through my eyes or anyone's of my choosing. I can embody whomever (or whatever) I needed to in order to say something.

I think that, while asking what it means to read like a writer is important, I must also ask how do I read text as poetry?  A poem is not a song until you sing it. A rhythm is not silent until you read it. If you are mentally wading through a thick peanut-buttery text and want to find a poem in it, you’ve gotta feel it. You’ve gotta feel your story, not the one that’s been laid out. You must ask what your imaginative urge looked like when you were reading the text? If you think that rearranging words is stealing then you’ve already lost your story. -And it is and will be yours every time.- When we write, with any words, we are echoing a past life- our past in our life.

I use words like echo and reflection because our words repeat and this factor is of huge importance and necessity. You may have noticed that I’ve referenced Britney Spears in my title. I do this because repetition, adaptation, beauty and likability are important in words and in life. Her hits have won favor across every social, economic and racial demographic. Once words with that much draw are out there, it doesn’t stop at just one more time. Everyone from Tori Amos to Old Dirty Bastard (a.k.a. Big Baby Jesus) have coveted her lyrics and have made them their own. They could do so and be successful because they knew what kind of writer they are. They were critically aware of what they were doing with their words. They made sure that they had something to say and (because of this) they could surmount the genius of another and also have their genius surmounted.

While I, personally, haven’t traveled the world to visit adoring fans or won prestigious and recognized awards, I do have my own methods for crafting something I can deem successful. If it is a body of writing that is composed by myself alone, I really need solitude and silence. Also, creature comforts are required. I tend to stick to my home to write, zone in and rarely take breaks. If I am reading, I tend to want the same, but there is a little more flexibility and the location could be debated. This is because, unlike mine, all the author’s thoughts are tidy and kept in waiting until I need them. The only spontaneous part that I play in their writing comes when I, say, jot a note in a margin or cross out words and write “fuck that” nearby.  

I have what could be called a mantra that I say, and it goes, “feel what you feel until you feel something else.” Another way you could read this is- feel what you feel so you can feel something else. Good writing is an action that helps to get you to that “something else.” To me, being a writer means wanting to echo my past in a story I write and also being able to read my future.  Whether I read an author or I am the writer of the story, that action is taken for love and hope. It’s a way that I can claim my future by moving into the next chapter of my life.

http://absolutemonstercooking.blogspot.com/


NEW COOKING BLOG!

Mirror, Mirror..

 Darkness scares us..We yearn for the comfort of light, as it allows shape and form. Allowing us to recognize, to define what is before us. But what is it that scares us really? Not the darkness itself, but the truth we know that lies within.

It is our job to know ourselves, develop self awareness and strive to increase our E.Q. If we do not feel the need to look inward, we will only project out- judging ourselves at a distance and within others. There is a big difference between expressing your feelings by stating "I feel that..vs. I think that you.. " What we yearn for, what we hate, things that define our core can be lost to our awareness when we simply glance and then dismiss. It's the "mirror, mirror effect". Who is the greatest of them all, we ask and not- Who lacks conviction these days? or Who is now highly inpatient? We may walk around like geniuses, confidently boasting- "I know who I am!" (and possibly adding "and no thanks to you!") But when is the last time you actually checked in with yourself?

It's a great thing to do and it will almost always leave you feeling surprised. Make a list of your best and worst qualities and ask yourself- "Is that me now?" It can be the hardest when looking at those things that you take pride in. Sometimes we are wearing the crown or holding a trophy that's been neglected and covered in dust. I remember the first time I did this many years ago and I realized that the stunning patient award was no longer part of my reign. But that is part of everyone's life- change. What we want changes and so does our good and bad qualities.Yes, you heard me- we get new ones! This really is quite logical as we live with a body that is always changing and growing year after year. Still, it is easy to grip till our hands blister to try and keep sunken into our past. It is not productive though and limits all kinds of forward momentum. It keeps us in battle against ourselves when we keep hitting walls that "should be easy" because of our out-of-date "best quality list". And it keeps us from progressing and learning when we see ourselves constantly overcoming out-of-date worst qualities that we demolished years ago.

Most times we stride through a day wearing our known pros and cons list  pinned to our growned-up selves and navigate accordingly. And what we tell ourselves one day can become a routine and become (sometimes) instructions to live our lives. In the short term this could effect the jobs we take. For example, I told myself that I loved structure and routine at a job. When actually my strong work ethic was being trumped by my o.c.d. and I really like variety and change in more recent years. I am better when I have variation in my work. I grow more and develop more of a creative and skillful mind.

Long term, pinning this list to our chests can do a lot of damage if we base our strengths and weaknesses around a time when we were hurt. "I am awesome at never doing certain things and therefore I will never get hurt!" or "I am only weak if I allow myself to do a few certain things because then I will get hurt." It is possible to live decades or even a lifetime avoiding lots of  life. And we are offered countless opportunities to heal when we have been hurt, left, abused, dismissed or done one or more of those things to another. People in our lives will offer support to heal, but we know when those times are at their ripest. We feel it. Something stirs or kicks you on your ass and that is your brain and body telling you to act. To do something. Most importantly, to do something different! (As Gwen says, "what are you waiting for?") And everyone gets these feelings and chances in their lives. Even one of the more "I wanna soar high!" people I have met in my life, I've seen shut down in 2 seconds flat by simply ejecting a "I wouldn't like that" at the faint possibility of beyond what they know at that exact moment.

So, we can try to steer our course by claiming control over it all. Feeling that the waters of life only present themselves when we alone are present, but life is a tidal wave and our brain controls a bathtub worth. It may be comforting to feel in control of the path we illuminate, but it is all glued together by the edges far off in the darkness. Ones we won't control and (thankfully) don't have to. The only discovery we can truly lay claim to is oneself. We need to nourish our bodies and minds by being as present and aware of oneself as possible. Acknowledging our current good and bad qualities that reside in us today. Using them to help us grow and better ourselves and allowing us to stop hurting and fighting ourselves and others.

Poem/Feelings Expression/Head Words/Ect.

What fresh hell is this?

Stop telling me I am unwanted, I heard you the first time

I will drown, not be subdued by your addiction

You do not beg or borrow, but steal and hate

Denying your life makes me trust in mine no less

I am not broken, stop looking at me hobbled

I will be subdued, not fed when you starve

You only observe my silence as a place for your mouth

I do not belong to you and you do not get to place me where you believe I do

I am not here to fertilize your landfill or support its smell

I am not a magical endless nodding doll

I am not empty, you are talking to my shadow

I am not motionless, you have left me

(Consequences come from tearing at my endurance and will

..Things are ripped apart and fall out)

I am not lost and bleeding out, I am tattooing my senses with fresh instincts

I am not lost and found to you, I am not lost and found by anyone.

TRUSTING THE ROOSTER

I'm a 5' 7" Cock.. well, my zodiac sign is. I picked up a really neat snow globe just over a year ago. It has a rooster on a patch of green grass, with gold floaty flecks and gold floaty coins. It also has, what I am guessing is, a place to stick a pen. It's not used to assist in my jotting of notes, but to help deliver my "wants" to me. I also make wishes on stars and call out my desires to the Universe. The latter is the most fast acting. I think that it has to do with the impassioned, high volume level that I do it in. These are just ways that I can check in and reinforce what I want to come hither. They're like bursts of confidence. (Which are always good to have.) I ask for love and strength for myself and others. Usually being very specific, but not always. It's not like prayer or being passive-aggressive or lazy. If it's an action I can take, I'll do it.

It's just a tool. I have many. Over the years, I have built up a plethora of ways to keep me smiling, loving, pushing on and coping. Foods, books, supplements, exercises, hobbies, bright colored clothes wearing, online viewing, cat petting and weird animal trinket collecting- to name a few. It takes a village of ideas to keep myself together, especially in stressful times. They're all good things (I feel)  if I keep checked in with my life. Last year, I had lost a lot of confidence in my instincts. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after being out of two bad relationships that I realized something huge. My confidence in my life choices was not bad. I had just let the grand disappointments that left me bewildered, displaced and shaken cloud me. Based on what I knew when deciding to enter into a relationship, I felt love and promise. The endings were racked with deceit and further and further struggle. But I can't look at that as the old  "fool me once...." line of reason. I don't feel foolish for feeling love and I damn sure don't feel responsible for someone else's life choices.

My instincts aren't a guarantee for success, but they can be a promise to open a door to what I feel I'd like to follow. It's hard when past relationships creep in as "good" or "bad" judgement calls because they seem to come down to a final pass or fail grading. Nothing should be looked at like that. Most things aren't and everything we do involves relationships with others. But if sex is involved, like broken bones, judgement skyrockets into the black or white for too many. Instincts tell us if we are open to an experience or not. Will I sign up for that class?. Adopt that cat?. Walk through the park?. Almost suffocate myself with help from that attractive man's mouth? And I referenced "a door" because once you open up to one, you are in the new floor plan of action.The room is yours: you are the floral window dressing, vintage studded chair, buzzing sounds system, painting of the serene valley and crystal chandelier. In other words, you are your experience. To shade your instincts about any experience (overall) as bad is to cast that same harsh judgement on yourself.

"Bad experiences" are really just when we feel as though be have lost a battle with those around us. Lost to their instincts or choices of what they want to be open to. Most of the time we can share in a similar experience with different people (many times past such encounters) throughout our lifetime. I know that I am still open to and directed instinctively towards many things today. For one, blogging! Also, continuing to pursue my career choice, volunteering with animals, crocheting and beginning my new chapter with trapeze. And, yes, the next romantic path my feet will follow....

.. There is no denying the opportunities that come a knocking every day. As a woman, it's hard to miss this fact. It's blaring at us.While we don't chose every man we cross paths with, we get daily reminders of the possible experiences that abound. And with the weather where I live starting to heat up, so do all the men folk rev up. Coming out of a good or bad relationship, the nature of a flirtation is amusing to ego stroking. And women see it all: the gazes, introductions and complements- whether smooth, subtle, obnoxious or feebly made. For example, yesterday I ran some errands. My top two "flirts' were: The guy staring, grinning ear to ear and literally making a circular path around me with a baby stroller. Upon realizing the baby was throwing off his game, he loudly announced to the silent child, "Do you want your Dad? Well, your Dad's not here." And, second, the helpful guy who pumped gas near me. After chiming into a conversation with some friendly advice, I notice him sadly waving as I left with a pen and paper in hand.

Beyond the flirt, I haven't a clue what's in store for my next man-venture. I'm could launch into what I want and what I want to avoid in a real relationship, but that's best said to an actual person. I will speak about "the chase" though. I always seem to be the initiator or aggressor that takes assertive action and approaches the other person I actually want to converse with and get to know. Many elements about myself aide in this making perfect sense. I do worry through, that I may be a bit jaded by past experiences. In the way that I may assume that the other person is likely incapable of making initial contact. That they are lazier and don't try as much. (Yes, I am sure I am making things sound charming..) But it is a concern, as I worry that I may generalize this idea and act accordingly. In part, I don't always love the wait and see attitude to meet someone. It's a tough place sometimes when the thought of taking charge completely or thinking, "hurry the hell up! I'm waiting." both sound exhausting.

I feel like I am in a place where I am done asking, "can I catch a break?" and more just seeking out and getting more of them. And so should it be with men.. I should get a proper date. "Wined and dined." Where he consumes more food than wine, if that is the case literally. Asks me out, can make plans and takes me out. Uses his voice and not text messaging to converse. Shows up sober, not a few drinks in or high. Opens doors, pulls chairs and walks on the side of traffic. (Yes, I like a man that likes me enough face dodging a car.) Someone who says my name and not "girl" and likes to have a conversation. Specifically, not a boring one. If the first words you drop are "what do you do?"- I'm officially bored. There are a million things to discuss. For example, whatever the hell is occurring on said date. .I think I am gonna take these thoughts and go see my rooster now. He and I have some things to discuss..