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ManicZen



Last Updated: 4/18/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Married
Age: 45
Sign: Virgo

City: San Francisco
State: California
Country: US
Signup Date: 12/6/2004

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Sunday, October 12, 2008 

Category: News and Politics


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiuMo6RihHw

Please watch this, and then please vote NO on Prop 8. I love being married to my beautiful wife, and don't want it taken away.

3:27 AM 
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Tuesday, October 07, 2008 

Current mood:  determined
To know ourselves as we are, we must know as our mothers' names.  Try as I might, I can't escape this terrifying truth.  Recent (and lifelong) events have caused me to want to extract myself from her lineage; made me ache to be free of the heritage she keeps passing down.  Try as I might, I am anchored in the ugly reality that I am her daughter.

I absorbed her pain and anger and desperation until I believed them to be my own.  Regardless of what I do now, it must start with the naming of who she is, what she's done, and where it's taken me.  Only by naming her, calling it all out on the line, can I begin to reclaim my own soul; my essence that has been flavored by the potion of misery she fed me from the moment of conception.

Only then can I begin the process of alchemy that will allow me to become the daughter, mother, wife, woman I've always intended to be.  I must name her, name the legacy of torture that seemed destined to be mine--and then find the courage to transmute it into it's purest, most magical form, and allow the crystalline fire of truth and beauty to cleanse every aspect of my tainted soul.

And then, I will live the life, the love I was truly meant to live.
11:42 AM 
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Sunday, October 05, 2008 

Current mood:  disgusted
okay, i'm going to have to rant a bit here....  i know we queers are supposed to be all excited and behind barack obama, but right now, i just feel bitter.  by the time he'd won the democratic party nomination, i had convinced myself that he was going to be okay, that he didn't really hate me, that maybe he really supported my life and my family and was just playing it cool so he wouldn't lose the christian vote.

after watching the vice presidential debate, though, i'm disgusted.  hearing joe biden state that he and obama are christians and that they don't support gay marriage was a knife blow directly to my heart.  what does being a christian have to do with not wanting equality for all americans?  there are many, many people who count themselves as christians who support equality and fairness.  who aren't afraid to acknowledge love and commitment, even if it comes in a different package from their own.  this "christian" claim is just a cover for bigotry.  how many times have we heard that definition used to justify all sorts of cruelty and injustice?  why are we willing to accept it from these men who want to lead our country?

at this point, all i can come up with is the weak excuse that obama and biden hate us/disrespect us a lot less than mccain and palin do.  that's heartbreaking.
7:43 AM 
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Wednesday, September 10, 2008 

Current mood:  content
Despite the cracks in the armor,
you managed to slay this dragon.

My carefully cultivated tough exterior
was no match for your sweet smile,
your thoughtful gestures, your
well-timed tokens of appreciation.

If anything, those cracks served to
weaken my defenses, much like
a puppy disarms would-be attackers
with a show of soft vulnerable underbelly.

Human frailty and imperfection
can be so intriguing,
downright endearing
when seen in the right light.

And you've always been
an expert at lighting, haven't you?
A shadow here, soft glow there...
Perfect Imperfection.

So here I lie,
weakened by your chinks.

Willing to dampen
the furnace within
so that I don't consume you
with all that I am.

Willing to be slain--
or tamed anyway,
so that I may delight in your sweetness
a bit longer.
12:09 PM 
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Wednesday, September 10, 2008 

Current mood:  blessed
"Mom-ma."  "Mom-ma!"  It's the only word I can say clearly and consistently, so I have to use it carefully.  It means so many things, and I rely upon you to glean from my inflection exactly what I need to express.  To your credit, you always respond--especially on those occasions that I can manage an emphatic "Amy!"to follow.  Most often, though, it's just, "Momma".

I need you, I'm afraid, I'm bored, I wonder if you're still there.  I love you, I hate you, I'm falling out of bed.  Wait, Momma, I need a couple more kisses before I can fall asleep.  It's dark in here, Momma, and my thoughts are so big.  Come in here and tell me how much you love me, tell me again that everything's okay.  Do you still love me most of all?  Am I still your favorite person in the whole wide world?  I was pretty rotten earlier--do you love me still? 

It's hard being sweet all the time; I get frustrated by what I can't yet do, what I can't yet say.  I take it out on you sometimes, Momma; you're the closest target, and you're the one who pushes me the hardest.  Sometimes I just want to push back. 

At night, though, when everything's quiet and the shadows loom large, I have to call you.  "Mom-ma!"  I need to hear your voice, need to insist that you tiptoe back into my room for one last chat.  I need you to help me close out my day with the list of the fun we had, and promises of the good day we'll have tomorrow.

I need you to tell me that it's safe to close my eyes, that you're right here.  Before I can relax, let sleep take over my mind, I need to hear once more that you're so glad to be my mom.  "Mom-ma, Mom-ma!"
11:52 AM 
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Tuesday, September 02, 2008 

Current mood:  contemplative

I can't forget, or maybe I can't remember the way you do.  I hear you talk about them, fondly almost, catch the little-girl you still hoping that your Mommy and Daddy will get it, that they'll make things right, fix what's broken, love you the way you were meant to be loved.  I hear this, and my heart clenches with the knowledge that you have these little-girl needs, and the knowing that those people will never meet them for you.

Sometimes, I'm amazed at—more often frustrated by- your resilience, forgetting that I also went back to their dry well many times before I accepted the heartbreaking truth; realized that if they were going to change they would have done so long ago.  I have to remind myself that I've got a 10 year head start on you, that I need to cut you some slack… let you figure them and yourself out on your own time.

What really tears at my memory, though, eats away at any softness I might have for clueless old people who don't even realize how fucked up they are, has nothing to do with the cruelty they bestowed upon my head, my shoulders, my…

No.  What broke my camel's back was the list of abuses they dealt to you, my beautiful sister.  The time they beat you for hours—literally hours, when you were only 3 and couldn't find your barrettes.  Or the fact that they made you give away to their church friends your first two baby girls; Mom sitting across the courtroom from you- you were only 17- with the adoptive parents, instead of with her own heartbroken daughter.   Finally, it was the sound of your sobs—you couldn't even breathe—when they threw you and your 3 children out of their house that cold February night because you hadn't warned them that Dad was being investigated for molesting our niece.  That night, that phone call, did it for me.  I ceased to have parents, and I ran out of tolerance. 

It would have been healthier for me if I could have drawn the line years ago, but I'm grateful that I had you to inspire me to make the cut.  The cut you know deep down that you'll have to make in order to finally find freedom one day.  The good thing is, you'll still have me, right here, to hold you through it.


1:03 PM 
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008 

Current mood:  thoughtful
The only magic we have is what we make in ourselves.  It's not necessary to create it from scratch; but rather be willing-- willing to be magic in the first place.  There's no need for formulas, or special outfits, certificates on the wall stating that we've earned the right to be magical.  It's simply a matter of being present and true to what we know exists, deep down in our private, spectacular, magical souls.

It's a matter of seeing, knowing, living in the place of magic and creation, allowing the wonder to exist and grow with our careful cultivation.  It's a matter of remembering to be what we already are.

The outside, business-oriented world does its best to quash this natural, wondrous magic, in the hopes of selling us something; signing us up for some program that approximates something vaguely similar to what we already--organically, are.  It does its best to convince us of our lack, our need--only so that we'll buy what it's selling to fill the gap. 

When we can step back from that world, step down into ourselves and the truth, we realize once again what we knew the moment we took our first breath.  We are the magic, and there's no end to what we can create.
12:29 PM 
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Tuesday, August 19, 2008 

Current mood:  adventurous
When I found my 5 coats in 3rd grade, they were in none of the places that I had lost them.  I don't know how I managed to lose that many coats; my mother swore I must be doing it just to spite her.  She could not grasp the reality of how easy it is to lose one's coat when you're 8 years old and the world beckons you to run and jump and climb through its artfully designed amusement park of trees and rocks and streams.

I mean, really--how can anyone be expected to keep track of something so mundane as a coat when there are battles to be won, adventures to be had?  Mothers seem to forget the impossibility of such a requirement.

So, I'd get lectured, grounded, yelled at, and each time I swore it would be the last that I misplaced those expensive articles of clothing--we weren't rich, you know. I meant well, but... I was an adventuresome kid for whom playing was a consuming occupation.

Fortunately, I had some sort of guardian coat angel looking out for me.  Miraculously, throughout the course of my 3rd grade year, each of those coats made it back to me.  Our town was small, as was the radius of my travels, and people looked out for one another--even for stubby, irresponsible tomboys who couldn't be trusted to hold on to their coats.

As I grew older, I lost fewer coats.  The pressure to grow up, play less, and to take responsibility for my things must have won out over my exuberant, distractible nature.  This must have made my mom and her pocketbook happy.  I'm guessing it did. 

I can't help, though, but feel a bit sad--wistful, perhaps, that I outgrew that childish ability to fall full-force into the realm of play and adventure, into a place where coats are important only in relation to their ability to serve as a superhero's cape or a magic carpet.  Seems I might have lost something even more valuable than a coat on my journey into adulthood.
12:03 PM 
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Sunday, August 03, 2008 

Current mood:  pensive
Tell me what the truth is.  Tell what I'm supposed to do with this truth once I know it.  Sometimes, I just want black and white.  I want everything to be clear-cut; so obvious that no one will question what is the right thing to do.  We'll all know, we'll all agree, there'll be no debate or second-guessing.

It's as times like this I wish I could believe in a god so that I would have some ultimate authority to turn to.  If I had a god, I wouldn't have to take responsibility for making the right choice.  Wouldn't have to worry about getting it wrong... all in God's hands.

Trouble is, God has died a slow death from me, fading farther away with each new revelation of deceit, dishonor, devastation.  The only god I ever knew seemed to serve the purposes of those who sought power over me, desired to rid the world of freedom and passion and joy. 

So, I learned to take responsibility for myself, stop looking to someone else's rulebook to find my truth.  For the most part, this has been a wonderful thing.  Slowly, I've learned to trust in myself, to believe in the strength of my own mind and heart.   These days, in most circumstances, I am confident and free of the self-doubt that plagued me in my youth.

But then, there are days like today.  Days that the weight of needing to make the right choices lays so heavy on my chest that I can barely draw a breath.  Today, I'd give almost anything to know without a doubt what the truth is, and what it will be, and that my choices can make it alright in the end.
8:01 AM 
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Tuesday, July 15, 2008 

Current mood:  peaceful
This is my favorite time of day.  It's not specific to the hours on the clock, but rather to the point in which we've gotten everything done and can just enjoy one another. 

All the doctor's appointments, therapy appointments, errands out of the way; no phone calls to make and no laundry to do.

Just us, being our not-so-exciting but often goofy selves, reveling in the fact that we like one another so darned much. 

Enjoying the realization that when all is said and done, we're one another's favorites, and that we've created the perfect time and space just for us.
5:20 AM 
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