The Voice of Darth Maul

I need not say more.

A Survey...

Thanks to furnacechant
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Odd Dream

Last night, I dreamt that I was a new cast member on MadTV and I was in a skit with our guest star, Calista Flockhart. There were a couple of mild references to the fact that she's a stack of bones, but nothing really edgy. One of her lines in the skit was "hey, I had some finger food earlier today!" I don't know what I was supposed to say, but I improvised, retorting, "Calista, finger food is like little sandwiches, not biting your nails." The crowd went wild and it was one of our best shows ever.

After the show, everyone had the ratings sheet and cast list and were rubbing their elbows or noses on them. I asked what it was all about and Nicole Sullivan told me that it was a luck ritual they'd done for ever the longest. If a show went really well, everyone would rub their elbow or nose on the ratings sheet and the name of the cast the cast member who helped to pull it off. "This week, that would be you," she said, just as Michael McDonald plunged is face onto the cast list. And I said, "Oh just what I've always wanted: to have Michael McDonald rub himself on me."

MM gave me the hairy eyeball in a joking manner and we all laughed like hyenas.

What the hell?

Zen

I'm being incredibly Zen about things right now, despite the dull ache and lack of motivation to "fix it". It has dawned on me that it's not up to me to "fix it". All I can do is encourage and hope things get better, and wish with all my heart that things would be made up to me, that I'd be important enough to fight for.

But I know what I want and it's been made apparent that I am unsure where to find it. Hell, I'm unsure whether or not I want to find it now or would want it once it's found.

I want to be a fragile rose plucked from the garden and nurtured beyond my wildest dreams. I grow weary of always being the gardner fighting psychic and emotional ground hogs that steal away the harvest long before it has a chance to come to fruition. Then again, I'm not sure I could allow myself to be that rose.....release my grip enough to let another nurture me. Maybe not letting him nurture me when he wanted to is part of the problem.

But how can I join a club of exploitation? I love him too much for that.

Either way, I need that sense of importance and I don't foresee getting it. I either have to accept that and tend the garden in other ways or I have to leave the garden to others and try my hand at being a rose. I'd prefer he be the one to pluck me, but my past experience indicates this won't happen.

Sad? Yeah.
Resigned? Yeah.
Emotionally crippled? No.

I still smile. I still find humour in things. I still function and think of other things. It's not like I'm consumed by the threat of our demise. I don't want it to happen and I'll do my part to ensure that it doesn't. But I will no longer do his part, too. If it fails, I won't carry with me a sense of guilt for having not done my best.

I'll carry with me a deep sorrow and a heart that may not love again for a long time, if ever. But I will have my strength and a deeper sense of who and what I am. For that I will always be grateful. Hopefully, none of that will be necessary and we can mend the wounds and move on in our relationship.

They say love conquers all.

Prove it.


or not..

The Rhythm Has My Soul

"Self-conscious, uncertain
I'm showered with the dust
The spirit enters into me
And I submit to trust"