Trying out http://ping.fm
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Agencia de Gays Zaragoza
7 years ago
Well, hello, friends and neighbors! I heard Wallace talking about the site and the blog and I realized I have been such an incredible slacker!
So where's Portia been? Mostly watching football, giving back rubs, going to the grocery store and trying to stay warm when it's cold outside or going outside to be in nature when it's not.
But the Super Bowl is Sunday and, after that, it's back to work for me. Afterall, Wallace is on the path to his higher purpose... and I'm starting to feel like a bump on a log. I've got a lot of doing and dreaming, manifesting and making, writing and just trying to figure out what the heck I'm doing in the next five years.
I don't have forever. I should realize that more now than ever... tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
And what happens when one of your best friends is about to leave town? Who will poke my brain then? I don't even like to think about it. What I do like to think about is freedom and abundance and joy. Feeling a sense of purpose in my creativity that transcends the egotistical need of some board member to update their online profile because surely everyone in the world is just holding their collective breath to find out what new, bogus accolade they've added to their long list of community appointments. Yawn. Is this how I spend my energy and time?
Ugh.
But I deserve what I get. And what I get right now is more money than I've ever made, yet I am still undervaluing myself. And then there's the damn fear.
Yep. Fear.
Wallace knows what I'm talking about. He and I go round and round about this. We're like two kids on a see-saw; one up and the other down then the other up and the one is down. We can, we can't, we can, we can't, blah, blah, blah. Except in between his ups and downs, Wallace suddenly started moving forward.
Me? I think maybe I just need a bloody steak and potato.
I also need to find my muse. Find my story to tell. Find myself out there in this big ol' world. Because if I don't soon, I fear I'll just waste my time collecting my days in a bottle I might drop. Then all that time will be spent for naught and I won't have had as much fun as I coulda and no one will be to blame but me.
No risk, no reward. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. No moving toward your dream and it never becomes a reality. Never.
Just a dream. I don't want my life to amount to just a dream.
I want more. I'm sure of it. And if so, I'm going to have to find a way to focus and/or get a hell of a lot more productive with my time.
So much for football... well, starting on Monday. C'mon the Super Bowl is Sunday!
LOL.
Just after midnight, I'm driving home in some of the worst fog I can remember. It made me feel singular and alone. Far away from everything, encapsulated. But, not sad. It was almost like looking through a long-exposure in real life. Every now and then you experience something that feels real. Most of what we call real falls into the category of contrivance. Daily bullshit. Minutiae. Whatever. I had that same, insular, singular feeling earlier in the night. This parallel feeling of singularity, regardless of company and affects notwithstanding. I saw Nico Vega play- emote-channel. It's one time that maybe insane smallness of audience augmented a performance. I am at this moment deciding whether or not I can even look up their music. I'm purposely not googling them before I write anything. I want to remember tonight as it was. I feel like anything else I see could only taint the perfection. Obviously I'll get over it sooner or later, but like the idealized image of a loved one you don't see anymore...I want to hold on to it. When I saw the BSO perform, my mind went through similar machinations. There's the quiet before the adagio and my mind races. The same thing happened tonight. Being both completely in the moment and so completely removed. I can't even describe with any justice how beautiful it felt. My mind was both completely flooded and serene. A moment rare for me. So, let me have it while it lasts.
I fell asleep when I got home from work today. I left the TV on loud because my ears are bothering me from my head cold. It played with both my dreams and the spaces inbetween. I half-woke up telling myself I should post a blog. Not just any blog, but one specific to the false sense of security "public places" bring. The example in my mind was involving internet dating. You hear alot, "Let's meet in a public place, so I know you're not going to kill me." Sometimes it's tongue-n-cheek, but sometimes that's the actual reason. There are quadrillions of good reasons to meet someone from the internet in a public place... 1. to see if they've lied about their physical appearance (or taken a shot of boobs and head that doesn't articulately represent them). 2. because if they happen to be complete bastards in a public place, that's a pretty good litmus test. 3. it would atleast facilitate a harder kidnapping scenario.
The list goes on and on. But, my point really is this. We are all delusional in thinking that if we talk to someone...look into their eyes, whatever, that we get some guttural sense of them. This is NOT the case. Now usually, it's benign. It turns out those gentle eyes were lying to you. They were naive. They didn't know what they wanted. But, we all want the best, and sometimes we hope for the best. So, if the intent really is to screen out murderers, look elsewhere. I have no idea what the answer is. Background checks don't help. 48% of murderers aren't caught. And, if they're ballsy enough to meet you online under false pretense, who's to say they can't get coffee and be sane? Not that this is an online-dating thing at all. I mean, you could face the same thing in a club, or at a ball game, or at soccer practice. We need to totally revisit what we idealize as 'safe' and 'unsafe.'
So, I guess when it comes down to it. I'm writing this because I'm miffed at how people can be one thing for awhile and then completely change. I mean completely. It's the recurring nightmare of my life. Sometimes it's over the course of 36 hours, sometimes it's closer to 2304 hours. There are no rules, no real warning signs, just abrupt "I'm-not-that-person-anymore-ness"
Be careful out there.
I'm IMing. I haven't really done it in awhile. When I was in my teens, it was like texting to teens these days. I was addicted, and I was really good at it. I was able to get my point across, be funny, and maybe even enjoy myself. These days it's much more utilitarian. Much like any writing I do. I have to be prodded into it, and even then it's only a shadow of my former voice. Regardless of that. I'm IMing. It's hard for me to talk. Getting over a cold, now compounded with another one. I ordered pizza from the place that lets me order online just so I wouldn't have to talk. And how did the IM end? "I believe in some traditional gender roles." What does that even mean? Subtextually I'm not sure. On the bright side, it's 9PM, and I'm awake. Unusual.
A two-for-one. I can't imagine anything more perfect.
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