iStandAbove. Having a liddle fun…

The Princess and the Pea

There are peas under my mattress.
…No. Scratch that …I can make no such claims to delicacy.
For I am the  cracked soles of the bare feet the trekked miles over rugged terrain,
I am the calloused palms that tightly wield the machete passionately willing a response from the barren soil,
I am the knees that have darkened with the ashes they grind into the ground,
But more honestly, I am the pieces of my heart broken so often, the shards cut deep my fingers, refusing a mend.
Baring it all, I am the tears that illustrate on my cheeks the pain that conceived them, born in these eyes that fight to hide them.
I hesitate to speak because then you would know I will not… cannot feel the bumps in my mattress.
…But I'm afraid to lie down because rocks might be what replace those peas.

Mosaic Person

There is something about the saxophone that I often feel I can identify with. I cannot explain it to you. I often say the saxophone is the sexiest instrument. No, not because I feel sexy myself but because it speaks to something inside. It doesn't matter what the musician intended for the piece but manages to cause whatever I'm feeling to bubble over. But yea, this is just a prelude to my musings…

How can one be thought of as both cold and emotional; to some an angel, to others they'd make the devil squirm. Do you ever wonder who you actually are? Is there a single person who is not sculpted to some extent by their reactions to the way they are perceived by others whether to become the opposite of that perception just in spite or simply to go along with it because it is positive?

It's not that easy being yourself by yourself is it? (This is not rhetorical).
What is the point of having self-help guides, life coaches, daily motivators or even the Bible then if it was easy to be who we are meant to be?

God created us, but we born into sin, so to be who we are meant to be would result in sinful creatures and therefore there would be no promise of Heaven. But if you believe in God and in his word you cannot let yourself be slave to the whip of sin and to receive the promise of eternal life, heaven and ended suffering, you give your life to Christ and then follow His Word. This. Is. Hard.

Then beyond the religious realm, humans are social creatures. Everyone needs and wants friends and after they get them, try to keep them. In the process of which there is the politically correct language, the white lies, the high levels of tolerance and patience until they get the stamp of approval. And then the pretty wallpaper is slowly torn down to exposed the burnt gray brick underneath. And if you are not the kind to put up pretty wallpaper in the first place, you may be considered cold, rude, mean or "refreshingly honest" (which I think is nonsense) because you say it like it is and in this day and age… who, really, likes that? (Be refreshingly honest one more time and you'll be out on your ear wondering "wth!? I thought she liked that!") There wouldn't be as many successful plastic surgeons if people really did enjoy honesty.

And on that note: There are those people who cannot be themselves physically because of what the media and subsequently the world have construed to be the pinnacle of beauty. There is a difference between changing yourself to be fit or at least healthy than to simply to match the anorexic foetus sized "models." What happened to the whole "it's what on the inside that matters"? I'm not at all suggesting that it is not the outside that you are initially attracted to (my blatant ogling of a soaked shirtless young gentleman at the water park is proof enough) but look beyond that already!

Basically: How do you be yourself in a world full of different demands from different mediums?? What happens when you finally look inside yourself and you find its all mixed and confused and I don't know which direction to follow and rightly so??

…Have fantastic hump day.

xx
KD

I can fly! …can't you?

My eyes were open… but I'm not sure I could see anything. Not the rain, not the people, not the ground, not the car, not my bike. At least I don't remember seeing them. I was up in the air. I knew I was up in the air. What I didn't know was what my body was doing. I didn't know where my legs were pointing, I didn't know whether my arms were flailing or not.

I wasn't screaming… that much I know. I had a straight face on. Unfeeling. Ruminating almost. Noting the facts: "Ok, I'm in the air." Then the ground sped towards me. Not that I saw it coming. It was just logical that air + gravity = ground at some point. I don't know what hit what… then I was on my back. Still conscious (fantastic innit?). The rain pouring down on my face (and everything else I suppose), filling my mouth… cus… well… it was open. …I giggled. The absurdity of the fact that I was just hit by a car, was up in the air and just landed on the street in the pouring rain and couldn't move anything was funny to me.

I started convulsing at that point, which I'm pretty sure was due to a combination of the sudden cold and shock (I like to believe the laughter was from that too). I was suddenly aware there was a woman beside me cooing as though I was a baby and calling me that too. "It's ok baby; You are going to be alright baby." It was comforting, for sure. Then I remembered where I was: in public. I sat up then proceeded to stand and smile, "Hello; Yes, I'm quite alright."

(Heh! Can someone tell this editor that "alright" is spelled correctly. Where is your English teacher???? Anyways…)

I stood there and rinsed off the soil and whatnot off my toes in the rain. I had totally forgotten I had a bike until the driver of the car, looking almost sick, gave me a hug and offered to get me a new bike. "Oh, is my bike totalled?" (Say that like "toe-tild" hehe.) The frame of the bike was bent in an odd manner into the wheels such that you couldn't spin them if you tried. "Oh. Hmm. Yea, a new bike would be useful."

I had healed, forgotten about the accident, written 3 books, was VP of Google, had a gorgeous husband, 3 children and 10 grandchildren before the police came and regressed me back to the present time. Then the ambulance followed. (GORGEOUS DUDE BTW. Never caught his name :( ) Apparently I had messed up the windshield and left pieces of my shirt on the car somewhere and therefore I had to go get checked out.

Now for the stupid part.

I lay in that hospital bed for 4 hrs. 4 HRS OOO. Question after question, poking, prodding, lifting, touching, feeling, x-raying, etc AND I STILL HAD TO ASK THE BLOODY DOCTOR TO DRESS THE BLOODY WOUND. Here I am bleeding onto your sheets and pillows and whatnot and you can't guess that cleaning and bandaging it up might be wise? Or you don't do that in the ER? Like …wtf? And even then I could've done what she did very easily. Grr. She then told me to "get dressed" and they were going to discharge me. I looked at her like… o_O

I was so pissed I got into my freezing still wet clothes and walked outta the hospital (God was on my side cus first of all I was alive and second I could miraculously walk on my ankle with minimal pain!). I put on my best "don't talk to me, you are ticking me off" face and walked out to find someone who could help me better than these "certified" ones. (The smart ppl hadn't thought to call my emergency contact either. I mean, when else would this contact be useful but in an emergency situation? When I was dead? I was in an ER for Pete's sake. Damn).

I whipped out my phone which also was working perfectly despite the fall and thorough soaking (can I get a hallelujah) and called my hosts for a ride, freaking my brother out and went back in to wait. (I did get officially discharged because I wanted my pain prescription. Ugh. Vicodin… I felt so Dr. House cool.)

So the hosts came, took me home where I crashed. All in all, rather eventful day no? :D

I am truly grateful to be in the condition I am because it could've been a lot worse, hence the current jolly disposition (as for the laughter during… I can't explain). I've had my miracle for the year. Thank you Lord. :D

xx

KD

Coed.

So I've been living a month with 1 guy and about a week with 2. And I realised a few things about myself.

I don't mind that I have to put the seat down every time I have to use the loo. I really do not mind at all. Neither do I mind taking out the trash. I can be considerate… sometimes.

However. H.O.W.E.V.E.R.

I DO mind that you leave whatever hairs you've cut/shaved/pried/picked or whatever off your wherever in and about the sink.

I DO mind that y'all don't know how to clean up after yourselves! I mean SERIOUSLY???

When you cook, CLEAN! When you shower, PLEASE DO NOT LEAVE YOUR CLOTHES BEHIND ON THE FLOOR. SHEESH! hoh. Do I look like your bloody wife.

I appreciate that you actually do your dishes, but I DO mind that you leave them in the drying rack 24/7. We have cupboards you know?

I don't see why you should have the three items you own all in different racks of the fridge. Can't you have them in one section. Like in the corner????

Finally, considering I hardly ever see you dudes cus you stay in your room or are only home with the high moon, when I leave you a note asking you to do something PLEASE DO IT! And in a timely fashion!

Ugh. Tsew!

:) (I'm calm)

xx

KD