Contrary to what you might think, I'm not much of a writer and I'm an extremely private person.  I can certainly appreciate why that statement sounds like a boldfaced lie, as I've written about so many personal things.  And now... it's time to explain why.

On May 29th, 2006 I did something very simple that ending up changing my life.  I wrote my first blog and although I hadn't yet found my voice, it has become my favorite.  I needed to scream, I needed to sing, I needed laugh and I needed to cry.  I just didn't know how and I didn't really know why.  Therefore, I opted to rant about something that struck a chord in me.  "Music is the heart of me"... so it makes perfect sense.  I re-read most of my blogs today, beginning with "Empress Liu Liu's 1st Rant" and I still agree with every word, although Stephanie would use fewer adjectives.  In my life, hindsight has never been 20/20, but growth has always changed my perception.  Today's reflection uncovered all that was behind the lines.  That rant was a realization that I have a voice, even if it was once behind the mask of a royal moniker.

Well, I recognized the King, beyond the Badfinger and I will forever be thankful to Ryan, for reviving the enemy of complacency that was dying inside of me.  Praise you, Ilene.

It was my fourth blog that I found to be most telling.  This is where I first made mention of Phil Collins, as I listened to what I much later noted as "the album that changed my life".  It marked the beginning of a journey for me and I'm happy to have found some of the answers to the questions I unwittingly posed there.  At the time, I thought I was just writing to clear my head.  What I found was that when you put something on the internet, you no longer own it.  When you confess something, you can't take it back... right down to the color of your socks.  The things I've shared here, are the very things I couldn't say.  And a pen may as well be a sword for me, because heartache poured onto pages, can be compulsively hoarded away.  Unlike my previous entries, nothing triggered me to write that day... except misery.  When I placed my fingertips on the keyboard, I didn't know what would unfold.  I realized I had a voice, but it wasn't until "Face Value" began to play, that I finally found it.  And I began to ramble... lyrically.  With each blog entry and borrowed lyric, my voice becomes more resonant and my demons find their new home.

I've spent a lifetime in search of, listening to and cherishing the countless words that rang in me, while never oblivious to melody.  After all, lyrics are merely poetry, if they don't have a tune to carry them.  Someone recently told me, "Music does not cause joy, music IS joy.....it is a resonance".  A pretty simple sentence that may be the most perfect thing I've ever heard.  Music has comforted and carried me through every single day of my life and it is sacred to me.  Which brings me to the most common denominator throughout my life and all of my blogs... music.  Specifically that of Phil Collins.  After having re-read the majority of my blogs, I found a few seemingly insignificant details that I need to mention in order to bring my thoughts full circle today... bear with me.

I'm happy to report that T-Bone and I have become the best of friends.  Unimaginable really, considering that the real truth is... I fooled around and fell in love.  I admitted it to him immediately and I wanted to admit that here originally, but the timing just wasn't right.  Everything happened so fast and no one saw it coming... including me.  As I read these blog entries, I can easily recognize the fundamental differences between us, but I never had before... not until the night I confessed.  I deeply regret having hurt him so horribly, as he has been nothing but kind to me.  He would never have forgiven me, had he not witnessed the war that was constantly raging inside, and for as long as he had known me.

What you may not know, is that I was married once before.  That's where Joseph comes in.  He is my step-son from my first marriage and I've had the absolute privilege of being a part of his life since infancy.  I have watched him take some of his first steps, heard him utter some of his first words, last year I taught him how to drive a clutch and he adopted my passion for music.  He'll be 17 soon and I consider myself blessed to be an active part of his life, despite his father and I parting ways.  Truly a beautiful boy.

"Invisible Touch" is my least favorite Genesis song, because it reminds me of a specific event.  Joseph's father dedicated that song to me... very innocently.  That dedication couldn't be less complimentary and he had no idea.  He thought it was all about falling for a girl that had captured his heart.  I explained what the song actually meant and we laughed it off.  However, from that moment forward and every time that song comes on, I remember that day.  It's not a bad memory, but I felt like something precious had been stolen from me.  I've never allowed anyone to do that to me again.  Music is my therapy, my source of strength, my means of communication and understanding.  That experience taught me to never share this passion with anyone that wasn't equally as passionate, if not more.  Especially when it pertains to Phil Collins.

I've tried countless times to explain what Phil's music, specifically "Face Value" means to me.  The words "somewhat" and "I can only say this", allowed me to avoid full disclosure, while still being honest.  Blogging is therapy for me, so honesty is imperative.  As with all forms of therapy, it's a process.  I'm ready to explain.

"No Jacket Required" was the first Phil Collins album that I held in my hands.  My sister had actually ordered the cassette from Columbia House... a penny well spent.  Fortunately for me, she made the mistake of not locking it away.  I can remember the moment I spied that cassette and selected it.  I can't recall any of the other titles in that box and unless my sister has been digging through my box of treasures, she never saw that cassette again.  "Songs From the Big Chair" was my favorite album of 1985, but "No Jacket Required" ignited a hunger in me that was previously unknown.  It was Phil's most commercially successful album and it had several hits that were radio and MTV constants, but it was a lesser known song that caught my ear.  For me, a song becomes perfect when the music can convey the story independent of the words and delivery.. Is it any wonder that progressive rock would become my greatest love and "Face Value" my dearest album.  It was "Long Long Way To Go" that resonated, struck that chord and spoke to me.  The melody, lyrics and vocals complemented one another perfectly and it instantly became the first song I deemed sublime... absolutely gorgeous.  That song changed me.  I was hooked and instantly in search of my next fix.

My mom has an illness that I need not explain, but I'm realizing just how much it has always affected me.  I'm the baby of three and the one that was always closest to my mom.  I was 12 years old, when my mom endured her darkest hour.  My brother and sister are older, so they were able to come and go more freely than I was.  They were able to avoid many of the things I had to see, which probably made it easier for them to rebel... unlike me.  Seeing her struggle, instilled an empathy in me that made me forget and neglect myself.  My brother and sister were able to express their anger and upset, but I always understood.  As is the case with squeaky wheels, they were heard and I was seemingly forgotten.  I buried myself in music from that moment forward and it soothed a loneliness that I could never put into words.

"Face Value" entered my life at crucial time and I couldn't speak about my reasons why until today.  As I poured over my older blogs, I realized that I couldn't even think clearly enough about it to remember when that was... it was too painful.  I've labored over this blog for most of my life and four straight days now.  Some demons are so hard to fight that the words must be torn out one by one.  I wasn't wise enough to understand what Phil was saying at the time, but I felt every expression.  A life with unknown purpose, uncomfortable in my own skin, and a compulsive hoarder of heartache with an ageless memory.  That album exposes, speaks for, speaks to, teaches, reflects, empathizes with, crushes, understands, realizes, reinforces, ignites, frees, inspires, forgives, humbles, comforts, cradles and makes my entire being smile and sing in a way that nothing and no one else ever could... UNTIL YOU.  

The tattoo on my back isn't of Phil Collins.  It's a replica of an album cover.  The album that saved me... "Face Value".

Talk about a song that reminds you of a specific event... you've no idea.  It's not a bad memory, but I felt like I had given away something very precious and I did it to myself.  I've decided to share this, because I needed to free up all the room in my heart.  The compulsive hoarding of heartache ends TODAY.  The labour of love IS ours to endure and the treasure of love begins RIGHT NOW...

"A great lyrical quote" that would change my life... for the best.

Eight months ago I met the love of my life.  Had you asked me if such a thing existed, even one moment prior to meeting him, I would have said no.  Had you asked me if such a man existed, I would have thought you delusional.  We recognized one another in an instant and from the moment he touched me, I knew exactly what perfect meant.  Just a few minutes in his arms and everything ugly, within and around me.. faded away.  The way he looks at me takes my breath, but to look in his eyes makes me want to cry.  He has the most beautiful face I've ever seen... One that should only be looked up at.  His heart, that held me so delicately, redefines precious on a daily basis.  We love each other in a way that no one else could... as complements do.  I've never met anyone like him, except me, but he's so much better.  We communicate best without words.  And even when the music is turned down low, it's never in the background.  We share a love of music and we shared it with one another... Something I've never been able to do, nor has he.  Something I was afraid to do and so was he.  I will never hear a song, that I won't want to share with him.  An album could never comfort me again, now that I know what comfort is.  You see, now that I share my music with him, no one can take it from me.  I remember the moment that I stopped hearing music with my ears and began hearing them with "ours".  I was rushing home from work, when a Phil Collins song came on.. I've heard them all a million times.  I was hearing it through new ears.  Ears that finally understood the words and I cried.  I trust my love implicitly.  To him I give myself completely and there's nothing I wouldn't give to be back in Arizona.

Day two and paragraph one, of the blog of my life, begins now...

 

My heart has been in a constant state of devastation lately, but I'm just so thankful to finally feel it, that I'm embracing every bit of sacred misery I can capture.  Perhaps, I've discovered the difference between loneliness and hiding.  I'm unsure.  But I'm also certain that something has changed and this overwhelming calm has enveloped me... frighteningly.  This is my surrender and this calm is my profound sadness.

 

Someone that was so terribly broken, is in repair and all the things, I could never do, are suddenly becoming pure instinct.  True love has been my inspiration for change and I'm no longer afraid.  Fear has only postponed this precious ache.  I'm hardly recognizable to those that thought they knew me and it pains me to see my reflection in their eyes, as it reacquaints me with the young woman that became so lost, so long ago.  I've spent the majority of my life trying to feel comfortable in my own skin, only to find that it was just a fragile shell... violated too many times and a product of my own pathological lies.  This admission brings me to my knees, my manipulation escapes me and my anger is setting my spirit free... Godspeed.

 

There was a time when I was content with being the other woman, but that woman was dead.  Written words are finite and hopefully this entry will become the stake through her heart and prevent me from ever downshifting again.  I know there are many people that perceive me to be a heartless and callous person right now, but they don't realize how much I wish I were... still numb.  The only reason people believe I'm strong, is because that's what I told them.  They don't see me wandering from room to room like a ragdoll.  "There's an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move." 

 

I wish I could keep these fucked up demons to myself, but if I don't let them go now, I'll never be able to get rid of them.  I'm angry at myself for letting this happen.  For compulsively hoarding so much heartache.  For allowing myself to get, so lost, for so long.  "I've slept through the sunrise and I've turned away every time it got bright."  It feels so good to finally be in enough pain to write and allow the fleshing out to begin.

 

I've done a countless number of things, of which I'm not proud.  And the few things that I am proud of, are finally flourishing.  All it took was a little music, love, laughter and light.  All that's missing is my complement to share these simple treasures with.  "I miss the sound of your voice... the loudest thing in my head." 

 

The sun should be rising soon and the rain seems to be giving my eyes a break.  I hope I accomplish something extraordinary today, like not drinking... not alone.  Monday mornings have become my favorite hours and every night is lost in drunken reverie.  I was just sipping on a cup of coffee, while looking out the kitchen window and listening to the rain dance on top of the pool water.  Sarah McLachlan was playing in the background and for a moment the two sounds were indistinguishable.  Another beautiful moment that should have been shared.

 

I'm getting better at being better and I think I'm picking up speed.  Finally, I'm becoming the woman that I was meant to be and my shaking fist is heaven bound and keeping perfect time with my pounding heart.  I'm furious with the son of a bitch that took my mom away from me and the one that turned her mother into the hollow soul that didn't protect her.

 

"Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting...

I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don't mind sayin'
It's a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger...

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting."

 

I'm devastated, but I'm feeling.  I'm in love and I'm miserable.  I'm tired of loneliness and hiding.  I'm unsure.  But I'm also certain that something has changed and this overwhelming calm has enveloped me... finally.  This is my surrender and this calm is my beginning.

 

"I'm not ready to make nice.

I'm not ready to back down.

I'm still mad as hell and

I don't have time to go round and round and round." 

 

Welcome home Stephanie... I missed you.

It's been a while and I apologize for my absence.  I've been trying to figure out a way to explain what's going on with me, without getting into too much detail, and without causing any more hurt to anyone else.  The truth is... Travis and I are no longer together.  I am the one that initiated the split, not due to any wrong doing, but because our marriage simply wasn't working out.  Travis, rather T-Bone, and I are just very different people that really care about one another.  In fact, we have even managed to remain friends... Thus far.

 

That being said, I hope you can appreciate that even the most amicable separations can be very painful.  He truly is my best friend, I miss him and I hate having hurt him so terribly, but it was right thing to do... For both of us.

 

I'm truly thankful for all of the wonderful and thoughtful messages that I have received from my many friends here in MySpace and I plan to return to being the self-proclaimed "Empress of the Run-On Sentence" just as soon as I get myself together a bit more.

 

In all seriousness... I really am thankful to all of my friends.  I love you all and I truly appreciate your concern... I've just have a lot to sort through and I needed the time, space and quiet to do just that.

 

That's all... For now.

 

Liu Liu

I had a somewhat disappointing day last week.  I had planned to see Curt Smith, of Tears for Fears fame, on the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.  I was so excited, as I have always loved their music, lyrics and contribution to our world.  That's a rather grandiose statement, but the Beatles, CSNY and U2 aren't the only bands that have rallied for political change and declared the need for love.

 

 

The day began with great promise, as I awoke with such excitement.  At the risk of, once more, manning the Tangent Express, I must say... Tears for Fears are my modern day Beatles.  Each song is such a brilliant pastiche and tribute to their influences, heroes and experiences.  That being said... My friend John and I headed west. 

 

Originally, the scheduled arrival time for the taping was 3:45.  I found out, via email that morning, that the arrival time had changed to 3:00.  We gracefully battled the traffic and arrived on the lot at approximately 3:05.  With our tickets in hand, we scurried to the line for the show, where we met up with security.  Although we did have tickets, admittance is based upon a first come/first serve basis and apparently some people had arrived as early as noon.  I was heartbroken when they wouldn't allow us to enter.  I begged, pleaded and even offered up all the cash I had on me... A measly forty bucks, but it was worth a shot, right?  They explained that they were completely full, that there were no more seats and that there were fire codes and such.  As a last ditch effort, I asked if someone with Curt's band were to say it was ok... Could we come in?  They said yes, but that we would have to stand, because there honestly were not anymore seats.  So, I decided to put my feelers out... Something that I very rarely do.

 

I sent out a few text messages to a few friends that I thought might be able to help.  The first person to respond was a dear friend of mine and a huge TFF fan... Let's call her "Al".  She had the cell number for a member of Curt's camp and offered to text him.  Within mere moments, a man and woman were there in front of me and the second set of security that I had encountered that day.  The gentleman then said to security that he was told a couple of people were there that should have been on the guest list and then all eyes turned to me.  I quickly tried to squelch that statement, because I never intended nor attempted to misrepresent myself in any way, by clarifying what I had said.   

 

 

I told the gentleman that I never said I was on the guest list and then repeated what I had actually asked... If someone with Curt's band were to say it was ok... Could we come in?  Everyone was looking at me like I had two heads, which was understandable, so I tried to explain myself as quickly and succinctly as possible.  On a side note, I thought that the gentleman that my friend was trying to contact for me, was actually with the band.  So, I tried to make a long story short... Not something that I am well known for.  I explained that the last I had heard, Curt was undecided as to whether or not he would be performing with the full band, or acoustic, so I didn't know if the person I was looking for was there, or not.  The man then asked... "Who do you know?", to which I hesitantly replied, "Well, 'so and so'... Kind of."  He then said... "I'm 'so and so'."

 

Looking back, this would have been a pretty embarrassing and humbling moment, had I been trying to misrepresent myself, but I wasn't.  Truth be told, I was relieved, so I extended my hand, introduced myself and explained that our mutual friend had been texting him.  He seemed very gracious, albeit still caught off guard, as he explained that everyone on the VIP list had already been accounted for and that he was unable to help us out.

 

The "gentleman" was not "with the band", which is hardly a crime.  He has a radio show, which I have listened to and enjoyed on two occasions.  I knew his moniker and that he was closely affiliated with Curt, but I honestly never delved into his resume, prior to the Late Late Show mishap.  I even messaged him and apologised for the misunderstanding the following day.

 

It was a somewhat, but never a completely, disappointing day.  I was able to watch Curt's performance... Compliments of TiVo and it was absolutely gorgeous.  John and I went on to have a wonderful day with my dear friend Uncle Chuck... One of the original cool cats.  Additionally, I was able to catch up with several of my incredible friends that I had sent feelers out to earlier that day.  I keep them as near and dear as possible, but they are always on "the road" and I suck at returning calls.

 

Last night, things went from somewhat disappointing to... Just cruel.

 

I tuned into the "gentleman's" radio show and logged onto the accompanying chat room... Expecting another great show.  The show had already been on for an hour, but I was happy that I had not missed it entirely.  Perhaps you can imagine, or perhaps not, how I felt when the "gentleman" started to talk about the Late Late incident, just a few minutes after I signed on.  My mouth was agape, as he entertained his listeners with his recollection of what had transpired.

 

He stated that someone from the Late Late Show had come to him and said that there was someone outside claiming to be on the guest list and so he went down to check it out.  When he came down he saw a couple standing with security.  So far, so good... Right?  Our individual recollections did sync up rather well, for a moment anyway.  I almost wish that I had tuned out at that point, but I didn't.  He went on to say that I stumbled when he asked me 'who I knew'.  I can certainly understand and appreciate how he may have misinterpreted my hesitant reply.  He went on to say something along the lines of... You always know something's up when they stumble.  Again... I can understand and appreciate where he was coming from.  My understanding, appreciation and diplomacy flew out the window when he brought my dear friend "Al" into the equation.

 

He went on to say that our mutual acquaintance was just another fan from the message board.  Then he laughed as he posed a question about 'Who just shows up at a show, claims to be on the guest list and thinks they will get in?'.  I was bowled over by that move.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but who hands out their cell number to just some fan on a message board?

 

The "gentleman" was diligent to broadcast that he wasn't mentioning any names, but I don't think that really matters.  Anyone that truly knows me, also knows that I am able to drop names like bombs.  The differences between he and I are many, significant and are most assuredly in my favor.  I don't need someone else to validate my worth and I most certainly never degraded anyone that appreciated the work of one of my wonderfully talented friends.  

 

As I write these words... I am fighting back tears.  I'm ashamed to admit that his words were hurtful.  He didn't hurt me directly, but he hurt someone that I care about.

 

He gave "Al" his number and she contacted him... On my behalf.  I wish I knew then, all that I know now... Hindsight is 20/20.

 

I continued to listen to his show, even after he spewed his skewed view... In complete disbelief.  I even chimed in on the chat room and declared that I was the one that he was speaking of and that I never said I was on "the list".  I had to address him personally to even get him to acknowledge that I was addressing his comments.  Again, he noted that he had not mentioned any names... Somebody nominate him for Sainthood... Please.  Are you fucking kidding me?

 

When I find myself in times of trouble... I listen to music and I write.  Eventually, I reach the point where I am able to speak... I'm not quite there yet.

 

Just over two weeks ago, I received a call from a dear friend... Sonja.  I was at work, so I wasn't able to pick up.  She left a voicemail and then sent a text asking me to call as soon as I could.  Immediately, my heart sank.  At that particular moment, I was looking into the tear filled eyes of another dear friend... Qwerty.  Her mother-in-law had just died.  Her children just lost their grandmother.  Qwerty is a woman that you rarely see cry.  It's not that she is cold, nor is she ashamed... She's just too fucking busy holding up everyone else around her.  Even at the beginning of her day... She doesn't have enough strength for tears.  

 

Immediately after realizing that she was beginning to cry, she changed the subject... "How is Howie?".  His mom has been in the hospital since the beginning of January after suffering a fall and breaking her hip.  Qwerty and Howie have never even met.  Their sole common denominator is me and I have no doubt that they would run to the end of the earth for each other, if need be.  I am truly blessed with amazing friends.

 

I told Qwerty that I had left a message for Howie earlier and that I was pretty worried about him.  Howie and I are the same age, but his mom had him late in life.  He is an only child and his mother's caretaker, so he has been a bundle of guilt-ridden nerves since she fell.  I barely finished my sentence, when Qwerty wiped the tears from her eyes and then began dialing.

 

By this time, my heart was screaming at me.  I sent Sonja a quick text... "I'm at work.  Is it an emergency?".  I knew it was.  I knew something was wrong.  Her reply confirmed my fears.  It was an emergency, but Bibiana was ok.  Instantly, my thoughts turned to Bibiana's mother and I walked out in a panic.  I don't know if Sonja said hello.  I just remember asking about Bibiana's mom.

 

On Wednesday, January 16, 2008 at 11:01 pm... Lupe Miranda lost her life in a tragic car accident. 

 

Breathe.

 

Let it be, let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

I'm just going to start typing and hope that my mind doesn't figure out what my fingers are doing.  I'm a compulsive hoarder of heartache with an ageless memory.  More significantly, I am unable to forget anything.  Inherent omniscience isn't all that it's cracked up to be.  Therefore, I spend a great deal of time practising patience and forgiveness.  I've spent even more time lazing around in murky Lethe water.

 

"A conscious slumber seems to take"

 

Exactly one week ago today... At approximately 8 AM, I awoke in my customary tailspin.  I swam from the couch to the kitchen sink.  I picked up a 1.75 liter bottle of Jack Daniel's Old No. 7 and I unscrewed the cap.  My head was spinning as I lifted the bottle in the air.  My stomach churned as the bottle came closer to my face.   Without any hesitation, I flipped the bottle over... Bottom's up and straight into the mouth of the sink drain.  In true blackjack and British fashion... I finally clapped out and exited the pit with clean hands.  It's about fucking time.

 

"I think I have the best of me
Inside my head
No one else competes with me
I think I'm great
Got spirit tucked away inside"

I'm not saying that I will never drink again, or that I've not had a drink since.  I'm done with whiskey.  It's like a muse that enjoys smacking you around a bit.  Perhaps, I've finally had enough.  Obviously, this was not a planned event... As when I quit smoking (3 MONTHS AGO TOMORROW!!!).  I'm not surprised that I reached a point where I felt it necessary to pour a bottle out.  Didn't we all see that one coming, or was I the only one that had faith in me?  What did surprise me was... The point.  I was angry with myself for not jogging for 3 days, because I was too busy "partying".  Look... I've not gone completely mad.  I'm not becoming a health nut, nor a "Goody Two-Shoes".  I more-so resemble the lady that swallowed the fly... She was just trying to be thin and so am I.  The 'liquid dinner with the smoke dessert diet' quit working a while ago.  Unfortunately, smoking and whiskey just aren't conducive with jogging. 

 

"My, what a jealous pool is she. 

The face in the water looks up 

She shakes her head as if to say
That the bluegirls have all gone away."

 

When I sat down in the Big Chair today, I had intended to write a dear friend a lengthy email.  I've actually been trying since yesterday morning.  I'm at home and miserably sick with a cold, so I'm still not jogging, I have plenty of time to sit and write and I could actually benefit from a hot tottie right now.... I digress.  It's extremely difficult for me to get my creative juices flowing, when I am unable to quiet the unnecessary voices in my head.  That's where my ghostwriter, Jack, always came in so handy.  Right now, all I have is Earl Grey.  Which reminds me!  Y.K.W... I will see you in tea, dahling.

 

Pressing on... Like a cheap set of nails.

 

I opted to blog today, because I realised that I need to write lengthy letters to, catch up with and return emails and calls to almost every friend I have.  When I get behind... I very quickly become overwhelmed.  You see... MySpace is also not conducive to jogging, but I'm not willing to bail out.  I've met some wonderful people that I'm really missing right now.  I've also met some wonderful people that are going through very difficult times right now and I'm keeping in contact with them via telephone.  That's a huge thing for me to do, because I seriously hate talking on the phone.  My friends mean the world to me... Sometimes my entire world.  I get to a point where I sacrifice too much and begin to lose myself... That's where I am now.  I'm realising the absolute need for balance in my life... Absolutely.

 

Before I go any further... I need to do a little damage control. 

 

I have a friend that, since meeting me, believes that every blog I write is about her.  To "Kay" I say this... The sentence you are reading at this very moment, the one directly preceding it and the one immediately succeeding it are the only 3 sentences that are written solely for and about you.  You know I love you, baby!

 

To my dear friend that inspired this session... Thank you.

 

"Recent years were unsung
I light 'em up
Burning my horoscope
Recent fears I've undone
I give 'em up
Sick of my bogus ghost
Rising up it reached my highest line
C'mon Daisy don't drown me this time

I'm living in fits can't get myself ripped
Don't make me no criminal
I'm easily moved, it don't leave me no room
Don't make me no criminal
Rising up it reached my highest line
I had bad ideas and ballast on my mind

Now the sparks are gonna fly
'cos I'm turned on again
Burning up the future
I'm taking off
I'm taking off

Recent fears about love
I string 'em up
These are my robust ropes
There'll be no more tears I'm unplugged
Lets live it up
Easy come easy go
Falling down gave me my highest line
So c'mon Daisy don't drown me this time

Now the sparks are gonna fly
'cos I'm turned on again
Burning up the future
I'm taking off
I'm taking off

Falling down I reached my highest line
I've got a good idea what breaks you makes you shine...."


Empress L.L. Mnemosyne

"'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all.".  Beautiful words from the English poet Alfred Lord Tennyson.

 

To which I say... Bullshit!  (Is that blasphemous?).  I love smoking.  With each passing day, It has become easier to say goodbye to the physical aspects of our 24 year relationship.  In my opinion, the patch is the greatest invention since the microwave.  I wouldn't have made it through the third day without it.  Actually, I never would have even tried to quit.  Much like a divorce... Yes, I have been down that road also, at some point you realize that you are alone.  You need to figure out what to do with all of the time, that you once dedicated to your relationship.  This is the hardest part.  I have to keep myself busy at all hours of the day.  Naturally, I've been getting a lot of things done around here.  I've also spent a great deal of time online and knocked out drunk.  To be honest, I'm tired of blogging about smoking.  I feel like that friend that is always pissing and moaning about their problems and you just want to tell them to shut the fuck up already.  Conversely speaking, if you have a friend that is seemingly never online anymore and their cell phone is suddenly malfunctioning and not notifying them that you have called 17 times today... You may want to quit pissing and moaning so much.  I'm taking my own advice tonight.  Blogging has been very beneficial to me throughout all of my recent attempts to transform my life.  I'm going to continue to blog, continue to patch and continue to transform my life.  The last thing I want to say about smoking... No one ever quits just because they want to.  Smokers quit, because they absolutely have to.

 

I'm just going to ramble from here on out.  I have a lot on my mind, so I hope you follow along and enjoy the ride.  I have a feeling that I will be bouncing around a bit.

 

I must say, I do love and appreciate my many friends that have listened to all of my pissing and moaning over the past year, or so.  I have made some wonderful and lasting friendships here in cyberspace.  People are often surprised to find out that I actually converse with the majority of those on my friends list, so I thought I should address this issue once and for all.  Yes... I know a few people in the music industry.  No... I am not in the music industry, nor am I a professional tambourine player.  I do occasionally play a little drunken tambourine with my friends band.  It's all in fun and has anyone ever really heard of a professional tambourine player?  If there is such a thing... Sign me up. 

 

I never really questioned why certain musicians decide to chat with me, until enough people questioned me about it.  Here is what I've concluded... If you approach someone with dignity, regard them as a fellow human being and are able to do it naturally, without faking it... They will usually recognize it and respond in kind.  Additionally, this general rule applies to everyone... Not just those better known.  I also don't ask friends for favors, perks, hook-ups, or autographs.  Think about it... Imagine yourself walking up to a friend, all wide-eyed and drooling, asking them for their autograph and then trying to have a normal conversation afterwards.  Sounds a bit awkward to me.  I pride myself in my ability to carry on a meaningful conversation with pretty much anyone.  We all share the human experience and I've never met anyone that I didn't have something in common with.  Sometimes, it's a common trait that I hate and I'll kick you to the curb.  I don't need a boost into my hand basket headed for Hell.

 

The majority of my friends are men, or women just like me.  I despise "blanket statements", so I will be very clear.  It has been my experience that men are far less complicated than women.  I will also be so bold as to say that I know my best male friends better than any other woman in their life.  This includes my husband.  Don't roll your eyes at me, because I honestly don't care what you think.  My friends know that they can say pretty much anything to me and I will not look at them like some disgusting fucking pervert.  I also don't immediately question their intentions.  I believe that if more women were to listen without prejudice, allow themselves to be more adventurous and stop worrying so much about what everyone else thinks is acceptable... They would be much happier and their men would be much more honest.

 

I get asked about my husband quite often.  Actually, I get asked if I am really married.  Yes... I'm really married.  His name is T-Bone, he is my number one friend in MySpace and in reality.  There are several pictures of our wedding on MySpace.  He is the one that looks like Elvis and I am the one that looks gorgeous.  Bwahahahhahaha!  I'm really not that vain.  Once I confirm that I am really married, a common statement usually follows... "He must be a very patient man.".  Yes... He is a very patient man and he hates it when people tell him that.  He knows that the majority of my friends are men and he knows the majority of them also.  He also hates almost every single one of them and his eyes display his disdain.  The ones that he does like... He keeps a close eye on.

 

I've been asked many times if a leopard can ever change it's spots.  If you are one of my friends and you are in a fucked up relationship with a loser... My answer will always be no.  If you are a leopard like me... Then you already know that the answer is no.  We're not wild animals though and I hate animal euphemisms.  Mostly because my knowledge of the animal kingdom was derived from a See 'n Say and I lost interest shortly thereafter.  Vrrrrrrrrrppppppppptt!  The Empress Says "Fuck"... Far Too Often.  My husband and I were friends for a very long time before dating.  He knows every spot I got and he keeps trying to change them.  No... I don't think a leopard can ever change it's spots.  They are a part of the animal's exterior and it's what is on the inside that counts.  I'm trying to become a better person and my husband is patiently enduring my recent attempts to transform my life.  Unfortunately, I am human and I often fail.  Thankfully, he loves me... Spots and all.

 

An Ode To Marlboro...

 

"I don't like you
But I love you

It was on the sixth day of creation, that God created man.  It was on my sixth day of being a "non-smoker", that I wanted to punch them all out. 

 

Traditionally, the third day has always been my worst.  Yes, I have tried to quit before.  This time 'round has been different.  My third day was actually quite manageable.  In fact, the first five days were not as bad as I had imagined they would be.  I mentioned, in a previous blog, that I have been smoking steadily since the age of 18.  Smoking is as much a part of my life as is air, food and Jack... Even more so.

 

Without a smoke...

 

It is extremely difficult to wake up, take a break, gossip, rant, relax, think, start a car, enjoy a drink, finish a meal, celebrate great sex, MySpace, YourSpace, do the Hokey Pokey, or turn myself around.

 

I love smoking.  I love the charge and the surge of nicotine as it fills my lungs and fulfills my every need.  I love smoking.  I love smoking.  I love smoking.

 

Moving on...

 

Day six was a proverbial lesson in patience.  I went to work and I felt fine.  My boss was in a bad mood, but I cheered her up.  We laughed, talked, caught up on a bunch of stuff and dealt with a bunch of crazy fucking patients... Just another day in the life of Liu Liu.  Shortly before the noon hour, I realized that I was feeling a little left of center.  I wasn't bitchy, moody, or angry... Just a bit off of my game.  As the day progressed, this feeling also progressed.  It, kind of, felt like the warning shot of an impending toothache.  Before every toothache, that I have ever had... I felt a little swelling in my gums and a sudden awareness of one particular tooth, prior to feeling any pain.  That is how I felt and it progressed in the same sneaky way that a toothache does.  I began my day, feeling a bit tender.  In the early afternoon, I became slightly oversensitive.  As the evening approached, I was increasingly agitated... Which really upset me.  I was accustomed to having a miserable third day... Not an increasingly agitating sixth day!  As I was leaving work and starting my car, I thought...  What the fuck is up?  Why isn't my.... OH SHIT!  I FORGOT TO PUT MY PATCH ON THIS MORNING!!!  NO FUCKING WONDER!!!  I was so relieved to have realized this, as I was ready to return to smoking... Right then. 

 

Backing up...

 

As I mentioned previously, in this blog... Traditionally, the third day has always been my worst.  Yes, I have tried to quit before.  This time 'round has been different.  My third day was actually quite manageable.  In fact, the first five days were not as bad as I had imagined they would be.  This time 'round has been different... Very different.

 

My Revelation...

 

In the past, I have followed cold turkey's... But found my way back.  I have patched my raft and still... Swam back.  This time... I have recruited Wellbutrin, the Patch and every turkey that I can trap.  I feel better.  I'm doing better and I think I may prevail this time.

 

The road to Utopia... Is not a short one.  It is a painfully difficult path to pursue.  Few will survive it, but I've not been kicked off of it yet, so I will continue...

 

"Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury, the cloak and the dagger
Days when we sink like a stone

Porcelain portraits on silver medallions
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Days when we sink like a stone

There's a room somewhere with a different look
Where your secret life is an open book
Where the love we made was a chance we took
Days when we sink like a stone

Ladybird fly away - your friends are gone
Ladybird fly away - your house is on fire

Let us be lovers we'll melt after midnight
Hoist up the mainsail and coast through to daylight
Twisted like candles that fade in the half-light
Days when we sink like a stone

Well we die some times to begin again
When the same old dreams have the same old end
When we lose our mind or we lose our friends
Days when we sink like a stone".

 

Tonight... Is evening number eight. 

 

I gotta say, it was a good day.  But tomorrow never knows...

 

Number nine, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9...

 

Lay Lady Liu