Jun. 25th, 2005 08:38 pm
lykomancer: (Silver & Gold)
<---- I love [personal profile] yuuo a LOT. She takes the pretties I so nicely share and makes stuff for me! (Out of my own writing, no less. ^___^)
THANK YOU! Squeeeeee~!

My teeth really, really hurt. Like, agonizingly hurt. Fuckers.

And if Wendy catches me on the computer, I think she's going to skin me alive, so porn-writing has to wait until later.
Nap now, porn later, yes!

But mostly I just wanted to thank and love on [personal profile] yuuo for the iconage! *kisses*
lykomancer: (Run to ease the ache)
The lilacs are blooming once more.
I stood under them today, dappled with sun and shadow, feeling the heart-shaped leaves brushing my face. I leaned forward until my nose touched the cluster of half-closed violet flowers and inhaled the scent of them-- rich, deep, heart-rendingly sweet, and I thought...

I thought of love; I thought of warmth and laughter, and the flash of white teeth in an incorrigible grin. I thought of the low growl of thunder and the soothing patter of rain hitting windows. I thought of soft blankets and the instinctual, animalistic pleasure of touch.

I thought: Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly lovely. As a lily among brambles, so is my love... Stay me with apples and comfort me with flagons, for I am sick with love.

I thought: Itsuka mata aimashou. Sono hi made, sayonara, koigokoro yo.

And I wished...
Oh, but some things should remain unspoken; some things aren't meant to be exposed to the harshness of the world. Shut my mouth now. Tender dreams can't be exposed to the air or they will wither and die. I'm brave-- I have to be-- but not that brave.

Lilac is the scent of love; bright clean sunlight and spring rain are things you should share. Things are as they always have been: not quite right, but not really wrong, and I thought...

God, I miss you.

And somehow, I hated myself for it.
lykomancer: (Oh Love Look at you)
I live in that space between the words love and loss--
I said, Sometimes, it's enough for me just to give my heart away;
what would I do with it, anyway?

Recklessly, giddily,
I have no room within for regret.

I spin around and breathe the scent left on the pillows
and close my eyes,

And for one more moment--
one last moment--
I live in that space between the words love and loss,
savoring the air that flows around my tongue as I form the loose liquid syllables,
like a mouthful of fresh, sweet spring rain.

One last moment...

...then I exhale,
let go,
and fall
into pleasant dreams.

Merci d'avoir enchante ma vie.

They never tell you that the greatest sin
of all
is joy.

I saw m'company off, the darlings.
How wonderful! How delightful! How I love...
I realized how much I've grown up suddenly; lying there, warm flesh against warm flesh, I thought, Ten years ago-- five years ago-- I'd want them to love me, desperately. I'd break my own heart with my useless, fruitless wanting. Now I lie here and I simply exist with my heart in my mouth, agape filling me until I want to die from the pressure of it.
(Agape, not Eros mind you.)
I think that's a wonderful thing.

It's now six-thirty in the morning.
I have to be up and going for my Sanrio interview by noon.
Why on God's green earth am I still awake?
lykomancer: (I'm a work of art)
Hello, and good morning.

Let me introduce myself:
[I'm a man of wealth and taste]

I am [a/n]
androgynous, mentally and spiritually
Unitarian Universalist
therianthrope, mental and spiritual
antisocial ("against the norms of society")

I am a clinically depressed, usually angry, creative, sexual, spiritual, intelligent, open-minded human female-shaped, male wolf-dog-souled series of ongoing contradictions.
I am perfectly OK with this.
Right now, I am perfectly OK not knowing.
I am walking the edge between two worlds, and that's good. In the Tao there is both Yin and Yang. The vinegar is, indeed, sour; the sage smiles at the taste of it.
Sometime soon, I will gather my energy toward some project, and then I will be unstoppable. But that doesn't matter right now; it matters when it happens.
I will grow into what and who I need to be.
I am confident and self-assured. I am attractive and can be charming. I can, in fact, be anything I feel like putting my mind to.
I am everything and nothing.

The Artist as Artemis

...I am twenty-four today.
lykomancer: (Happy)
As some of you already know 'cause I wanted to spread the joyous news...
idiot-boy no longer lives with us!

Tom, Wendy, and I got together yesterday at Judith's, and had a serious talk. Tom stood up at the end of it, announced that he was going to take some anti-anxiety drugs, we were going to go eat, and then we were going home to say, "Here's two hundred dollars, get out by tonight."

We were expecting all sorts of hell to break loose. We were expecting things to get broken. We were expecting a fight.

Nothing happened. Derek said, "OK, can I at least stay the night?" and Tom said, "No, and that's final" and that was it. He packed up and we dropped him off at the bus station at 9; he got a ticket back to PA on a bus leaving at 10.

I think he's really and truly gone.

No more chaos. No more fear. No more wondering were in the hell that pound of lunchmeat I just bought yesterday went.


In other fields, I think I got an A- in my historical theology class. I got an A on half of the final-from-Hell and a B on the essay half. Along with the 2 A- and 1 B on my other papers...

Also, Julie emailed me a picture from Thanksgiving that I will eventually have to post. I look crazy. It's great.

Umm... that's all for now!
(I think that's enough!)
lykomancer: (Default)
So, I got like, hired and stuff.

It was really kinda weird. I was bebopping along, totally not getting anywhere, then I plaed one phone all, did a ten minute interview and was hired.

Ok, now, I want you to think of some of the most Northland jobs you can come up with.
Great! Would fundraising to sponsor the grassroots movement of the democratic national committee fit in that list anywhere? Yes? Yeah, I thought so.

It's tough. I'm out standing in the sun for five hours a day begging passers-by for money t help defeat George Bush. I get insulted, disheartened, and sunburnt. My back hurts; I don't have enough money to eat, and I don't even know if I'm even going to have the job after Wednesday.
See, they work you for three days; in that three day period, you have to make quota at least once to beome staff, and then you have to have a weekly average of quota or above to stay hired. Wednesday's gonna be my third day, and I haven't made quota yet.

This isn't a bad thing, entirely.
I mean, while it's great to have a job that pays well and makes me feel like I'm really out making a difference in the world, it is also really tough and I run the risk of being fired every week. That's not job security.
And I have another interview with caribou coffee and also with Borders on Thursday..so if I get fired at the end of Wednesday, I still have plenty of options that are, in a lot of ways, better jobs.

It's a tough call, really. Like I mentioned, this job makes me feel like I'm really putting my money where my mouth is-- so to speak-- and making a difference about something I've bitched about many times. For every person who is rude to me, there's another person who wanders up, shakes my hand and says that though they can't contribute, they are grateful to see someone, especially a younger person, taking a stand in politics and trying to get something done.

I'm sunburnt as hell from my first day. I did put on sunblock, but I-- ahem-- missed some areas. My chest is burnt from throat halfway down my breasts., and there's another patch between my shoulders. Hurts...
I haven't been sunburnt in years and it's not pleasent.

After work I wandered down to visit David (and got myself lost in yuppie suburban St. Paul for two hours), and the first thing out of his mouth after "Hi" was "I see you got some sun."
Fuck you, man.

I am so goddamn poor. I think I'm going to have to phone home and beg some more money if possible. I can't even afford the bus to get to work right now, and I keep thinking about all the dumb things I did/am doing. Like buying a used book in Dinkytown that once, or buying a milkshake yesterday for lunch, or all the times that I rode the bus that I didn't know about the transfer deal. Those few things alone probably add up to twenty dollars. The coffee I got while waiting for Tom or the bus, the single piece of Godiva chocolate that I bought (and ate while laying under the air conditioner while listening to "Fragrance" so loudly that the floor vibrated-- better'n sex, I tell you)... It's all added up, and now I am fucking strapped. God, I hope Grassroots Org pays me this Friday for my three days of work. I desperately need it.

It wouldn't be so bad, but I gave Tom a hundred dollars for rent. If I hadn't done that, I'd be living the high life, man. Bud rides to work every day and actual food to eat during my lunch breaks. High livin'.

David gave me a bus pass and that's helped a helluva lot, even though I tried to refuse it. It's a good thing he was more presistant than me. Even the eight dollars on that made a huge difference.

I really miss everybody. I wish I had someone to really talk to (David's not the world's most chatty individual)... I wish I had someone around that I could relax with and just hang out and make jokes-- all my spare time is spent primarily by myself, and while I don't mind quality time with a book and sexy Japanese voies filtering through my headphones, it gets a little lonely. I wish i had someone with me and some of my little adventures downtown, getting lost and wandering through Nicollet Mall; I wish there was someone with me to eperience some of this stuff, so that I didn't have a constant, unanswered string of half-sided conversation and commentary running through my head, never to be articulated-- so that I could have a better perspetive on what's going on around me.

I really miss you guys. I can't wait to see you all again, even just for a day.

On an completely unrelated note, Tom's cooking would kill an elephant. Any good eating Jenny's food might have ever done me was erased in a single Tom-prepared meal. He loves pan frying in oil and doesn't drain it; we eat lots of pasta with cream sauces... Bleg. It's probably a good thing that I am on my feet so often and can't afford to eat out.

On another note, I can't freakin' watch any of the anime Jenny so sweetly burned for me; Tom's computer doesn't have the right codex. I've tried beating it into submission, and that didn't work... dunno why.

Anyway, I've gotta run. My transfer is only valid until three and with the way buses are around here... *sigh*
*poke, poke* Hey, you guys should like, call me or something. Or maybe I'll call you. Either way, i want to talk to someone sane SOON.
lykomancer: (Default)
In some ways I'm sad that this has been such a great year; I'm sad that I finally feel so comfortable here, like I truly belong, that I am moved with the rhythm of Northland.

I was thinking of writing home to my high school English teacher, Mr. Hager, though I don't know if he'd remember me. It's been five years since I graduated there, and he's seen a lot of kids passing through his rooms in that time... lots of names and faces.

I was thinking of the idiosyncrasies of this college and the quirks I've developed by being here, and how I would try to explain them to someone who's never been here.

There's a baby grand piano in the corner of the cafeteria, and every so often someone wanders over and attempts to play. (The Chinese girl played tonight; she was very good-- she played "Que Sera, Sera." Seems appropriate to me.)

People bike in the snow-- that's most of the year-- and play ultimate frisbee and soccer and lacrosse on the Mall when there isn't snow. It's ok to sunbathe topless, but if someone does complain, you can get away with simply sticking band-aids over your nipples and calling yourself "dressed". There are drumming circles at the firering and political debates in classrooms. The psychology department demonstrates it's theories by having the students have snowball fights and playing with dogs. After a few weeks of -40 degrees, 0 feels like a heat wave, and everyone wanders around smiling and commenting on the warm weather.

I address the president of the college by her first name, and she inquires about the health of my rats... said rats that I keep in my closet of my no-pets-allowed dorm room. My professors regularly speak at the Unitarian Universalist meetings that are held on campus, and not a small number of them showed up at the drag show that was held a week ago. We have a Madagascarian French woman who teaches English and Spanish (but not French)-- figure that one out. It's not unusual to go down to the Deepwater Grille and Bar and end up drinking with your chemistry, religion, philosophy, english, or art professor. Hell, a few profs regularly attend Queeb and smoke up with students.

I came here from degrees in Biology and Chemistry and am leaving with one in Writing. In the last five years, I have learned how to do loom beading and applique; I have learned to shoot a bow an arrow, develop my own black and white film and make prints, and how to successfully and healthily breed rats; I've perfected my fish-tickling skills; I have tried to teach myself Latin, Kiswahili, and Japanese; I have fallen in love with anime, sociology, history, and Stuart Davis; I have become Unitarian; I am aware of socio-enviro-political problems and various debates; I have swum in Lake Superior.

("The water is awake / The water is alive / Dive...")

I have cut my hair, and dyed it all sorts of strange colors. I got a prison tattoo, and got my nipples, eyebrow, and labet pierced. Five years later, I still wearing the jade fish necklace that my first roommate gave me the first day she met me. I am occasionally seen in jeans that have more patches than denim, my "punk" light army jacket (with "Master of Evil" written in kanji down the front and a patch on the back with a biohazard symbol, among other things), or in a little sundress that barely covers all that it should in order to be decent. I have a giant catfish pillow named "Freud" and a friend who's a werewolf. I have another friend that, when we meet, we can (and sometimes actually do) converse in snippets of no less than five languages.

I've played frisbee at one o'clock in the morning and lain out on the icesheet covering Lake Superior watching meteors showers; I've played with real, live wolves and foxes; I've seen the Northern Lights burn the sky with ethereal fire for hours, the music of the spheres singing in my head. I've listened to Arun Ghandi and Greta Gaard and Winona LaDuke; I remember an African dancing group that invited the Red Cliff natives to dance with them in regalia during the last performance of the night-- the dark skin and grass skirts of the dance group preforming an African corn dance contrasting against the buckskin and fringed shawls of the Red Cliff dancers stomping to a simple drumbeat, heart of the earth. I've been in sweat lodge and Grandmother Moon ceremonies; feasts and storytelling circles.

Life doesn't really get much weirder than this and stay coherent. I've loved every minute of it.
lykomancer: (Default)
Just got back from church.

On Unitarian Universalists, weepy psychology professors, change, death, and rebirth. )

Maybe I'm just feeling better by daylight. Maybe it's the large amounts of cold medicine I consumed earlier with the liquid sugar I call tea. Maybe the pseudo-Christian part of my mind tripped over and has convinced me that today is a day of second chances. God only knows.

I still don't feel like writing that history paper. I feel like crashing somewhere and watching Saiyuki and Chobits until my brain explodes... maybe even while getting my Christian Thought homework done.
I have to remember that I have to call that woman who's giving me a ride to the Cities on Tuesdayish, and to check with Daysha before then to see if she can take me over to Duluth for Sunday. I also have to remember to maybe study a bit for finals, find a place to dump the rats for two weeks, and pack up for Tom's.
Ahh, Tom's. Where I plan on sitting on my ass studying astrology and Japanese for a full week, and life will be good.
lykomancer: (Default)
I had chicken for supper (thank you, Barbara), and sat around Kris's house watching Daysha's copy of Pirates of the Caribbean. Now, I'm sitting here at my computer (thank you, Tim), drinking Chai latte (thank you, Angela) with a splash of vanilla schnapps (thank you, Ed) and eating a piece of chocolate cake (thank you, Crystal), while listening to strange foreign music (Angela again) and wearing my nice red housecoat (Crystal again). I need to call that strange woman Tom hooked me up with so that I can get a ride down to his place for part of Spring Break.

Independent adult?
What's that mean? Certainly it doesn't mean me...


lykomancer: (Default)

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