Faster, faster.

I felt a little tense this evening. 

Thought I had it together today, but had to deal with a little bit of a curve ball.

Oh, what to do when you've got a lot of untapped, anxious energy? There's always another day of martial arts, but I was already at home and West Wind was closed.

In the past few weeks, whenever I've felt the need for speed, or alone-time, or whatever else gets you out on a motorcycle at night, I've cruised around Alameda. I'd hit all my usual spots and tried out anything that looked good to me. I think I've covered 60% of the island. I've covered 90% by car, but it's more adventurous to do it on a bike. With all I'd seen during my night rides, there was still one place I had left to go: The Hornet. 

I'm not cocky, but I'm pretty brave on a motorcycle. I ride as safely as I can, to the point of paranoia. But that doesn't mean that I won't venture anywhere new. On the contrary,  I rush in where wise men fear to tread. If it looks dark and spooky, I'll head for it. Please note that there's a difference between spooky and dangerous. I don't do dangerous. You could argue that the meanings are interchangeable, but I would have to disagree. It's case by case, if you ask me.

Either way, I wouldn't go near the Hornet because I felt both spooked and in danger.

I'm not gonna try to explain away what goes through me when I'm convinced to not do something; I'll just say that I'm grateful to my guardian angels for being so verbal. 

These guardians are very vocal when it comes to my being anywhere near the Hornet. Normally, I'd get inside the entryway and a voice would tell me to BOUNCE, niggah. (That's right, I used the "N-word". Get over it; I'm part black.) The Hornet's one of the most haunted places in Cali, and probably the most haunted ship in the world. No wonder I'm a little iffy on hanging out.

But tonight was my third try and Trent Reznor was screaming in my ear. I guess his verbal commands superseded all others this evening, and I brought my bike up to 50 mph in a 25 zone. There are no other cars on the road in the naval air base at night and it felt great. I roared by all the ships down to the Hornet, looked at her and thought, Yeah, I'm good. I got here and now I can go home. Let's roll, Trent. I hung a u-turn and sped back through the darkened streets toward the brightly-lit Atlantic Ave.

Ironically, I felt like I had exercised a demon of my own. As I turned onto Central Ave, Radiohead's 'Creep' came on the mp3 player and I eased into its chill sounds. Perfect timing, I thought. I'm a weirdo, all right.

Connected

"When we get too caught up in the busyness of the world, we lose connection with one another - and with ourselves."

~Jack Kornfield

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will live as one."

~John Lennon

It must have been somewhere in Chinatown that I heard the word. Connected, the voice said, as clear as a bell. As a precog that's used to hearing random words in her head, the voice didn't surprise me.  It was the perfect word to describe what I felt at that moment.  I'd just finished riding my motorcycle in the Dykes on Bikes contingent at the beginning of the San Francisco Pride Parade. Why wouldn't I feel connected?

I'd been in parades before; this was my fourth parade, in fact. Each parade held its own special place in my heart and memories. They'd all been crazy experiences and I can remember how perfectly comfortable I felt smiling, waving and laughing to the cheering crowds. This Pride Parade was no exception. But it was a different kind of day.

We were united in the belief that we were loved for who we were, despite the years of being told differently by those whose beliefs were as narrow as their vision. The streets were lined 12-15 deep by people who came to show their support. They believed in us as well!! I was overwhelmed with a feeling of love and gratitude for those smiling, cheering faces who were braving the unusually hot sun to be there for us. I wanted to stop my bike and hug each and every one of them.

And after the Parade, when Dan led us on a winding tour of the city on the way to the bike trailer, I was even more surprised by the support that was shown to a couple of rogue bikers, tooling through San Francisco. It's one thing to join thousands and cheer at a parade passing by, but another thing entirely to see the rainbow flag on the back of a motorcycle and cheer when you're the only one cheering. 

I was connected to the world, and even if there were still opposing viewpoints hidden behind those smiles, I knew that we were all still part of the same race and that eventually, even if not during my lifetime, we'd all be proud of being who we were.

Pride is.

I'm taking back my pride. I've written some pretty whiny crap lately, centered on some stupid people, stupid events and, especially stupid decisions in the last couple of years. 

Done.

Not worth it. This door is officially closed. Moving on and moving forward. 

Pride: noun: a feeling of self-respect and personal worth. 

Having never seen gays, lesbians, polys or anyone else (like me) with an "alternative" lifestyle as "different", Pride Weekend has always marked just another season of partying for me. I'm pretty proud of who I am and how I live my life all year long. I've never felt a sudden swell of wonder or honor at this particular time of year. If anything, I've experienced sadness and anger at the hypocrisy and lack of understanding that we endure all year long from the "others".
This year is different.

I'm saddened and angered still by the lack of forward thinking that California has so foolishly displayed, but I'm also encouraged and inspired by the fight that's still being fought for the right to marry who we love.

And I look at my life and realize that the fun, color and magic is, for the most part, provided by people who are gay, bi, poly, questioning, etc. "Alternative" is my "normal". The rainbow flag suddenly seems to wave at me and for me. I live in one of the most accepting and diverse areas on the planet, and I want to be a part of the celebration. 

I'm realizing what those who celebrate Pride have known all along: Pride is about loving who you are right at this moment, not someone else's idea of who you should be. I am again realizing my self-worth, and not placing it in the hands of fools. Fuck you if you don't love me- the feeling's mutual.

Watch for me in the Dykes on Bikes portion of the parade. I'll be the one with a fresh smile on my face because I finally understand this Pride thing.

I can't wait for Independence Day.

Different day, different mindset.

I read what I wrote late last night. What a load of crap. I have so much to be thankful for: someone who loves me unconditionally, family members who are supportive and loving, no matter what, children who are fucking amazing and loving, and a whole houseful of crazy, positive energy. And thank God, they're all doing well!!

I really don't need anything else.

Today I'm living a life of gratitude and I'm hoping to pass it on to everyone I see.

Clearing space, everywhere.

So we (meaning I) have decided that it's time to clear some space. I'm tired of being sad, angry and anxious. I've got a huge day ahead of me and I know that the only way to handle it is to clear my mind and breathe.

Our home, regardless of whether or not we move, needs clearing, as well. I've found a great example to follow, and ironically, it's in my favorite city in Hawaii. It's the Seaside Zen Cottage in Kailua-Kona on the big island. 

I want to move on and move past any feelings that aren't healthy. I know that my surroundings contain a lot of old and stagnant energy. We all know that spring cleaning is overdue. I'm hoping my whole household follows my lead and starts clearing some serious negative energy out of our home. 

If not, I'll take a deep breath and tell them to. This will clear the air for everyone.

I guess you're right. I am a warrior.

When he said I was a "modern-day warrior", I thought he was just kissing my ass. But then I pondered the label for a while (I don't like labels, usually) and I now believe his description was spot-on.

Just for getting through life's daily battles, we could all be called "warriors", but I know what he meant. My idea of a warrior (and apparently his, as well) is someone who not only fights the battles, but emerges victorious. 

Look at me. I'm not your average anything. I'm not like anyone you know. I don't think I ever want to be. 

I've been shaped into whatever I am by life's chisel and, man, it can hurt. But the results are worth the pain, as long as I emerge victorious. And I've got a strong faith that serves as my backup.

I can feel a lot of carving going on at this moment, and it's pretty damned painful...

   but I'm a fighter. Not just a fighter. I'm a warrior. 

You are an asshole.

You know who you are. Do not fuck with me. I have been nothing but civil and even kind to you in the past couple of months, but you are so immature and bitter with who you are and how your life is going (or not really going) that all you can do is bad mouth people around you. 

I've caught wind of your blabbering and bitterness and I will put a stop to it if you mention my name any more. This is not a random threat. 

It's been a long time since I've wanted to physically hurt anyone, but you just keep pushing me when all I do is try to live my life and make things easier for anyone that's involved in our lives.

YOU NEED TO STEP BACK AND SHUT UP. NOW. BEFORE SOMEONE ENDS UP CLOCKING YOU AGAIN. OR WORSE.

I hope this is the last I ever have to say about this. Remember, we all know people in low places, you fucking moron.

Getting easier.

It really helps when you can see yourself making progress, even if it's only a little bit at a time.

Any movement forward is still movement, and right now I need to keep moving forward. Looking back and wondering or reminiscing gets me nowhere. I don't need to hit rock bottom to know that I need to keep looking up. I'm breaking an addiction, to many different things and I know that I've got to take this one day at a time, just like any other addict.

Funny how broken hearts are like broken ribs: no one can see them, but they hurt like hell. They make it hard to laugh and nothing can heal them but time. And no matter what it was that my heart loved, my mind can't reason away the pain. 

But hey, I'm making excellent progress with this healing and in other areas that I've decided to take control of. No more lame excuses, no more pity parties. No more fucking whining. I think I've been afraid to let go of certain weights, and now I'm questioning the logic in that. 

Time to let go and bury the past!

And man, do I have the greatest support team, or what? 

Look at me. Look closely. I look happier and more calm than I've been in a long time. I'm so glad because I've got a few great plans. 

Older men. Definitely.

I've been so into older men lately. What's not to be into? Anyway, I've blogged about it in 'Diary of a Wanna-be Diva'. 

Enjoy.

Honesty, Truth and Excitement

It's Tuesday, and already I had an epiphany: I don't have to feel bad when I'm not feeling happy. Lemme splain.

If I'm not excited out of my mind, I usually feel like I'm not living fully or I'm missing something. 

This isn't true.

I can be honest with myself and say, hey, self, you're kind of blah today, and that's okay. Or, hey, self, you're really pissed off, and that's okay, too. 

That's being honest and it's very liberating. I don't have to put on the I'm-GREAT mask anymore. I'm human, and I'm honest.

But today, I am excited. Meeg and Elaine are heading to Maui and Joey's got his first West Wind test at 5:30. I'm also excited that something great is just around the corner. Something always is and always has been.

And that's my truth.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

Insomnia sucks. I can fall asleep easily, I just can't stay asleep. It's pretty lonely at 4 am when you're the only person who's awake. But I tried some new things tonight and maybe they'll help me to stay asleep naturally.

I would love to have sweet dreams again.          

Maybe tonight...                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

I can feel you.

Meegan is leaving for Maui tomorrow morning. I was supposed to go with her. We all were. Dan's got two jobs that need him badly right now, so I can't say that it's a bad thing that we're not going, just disappointing. We're postponing the trip till August or maybe even September for my birthday.

But the gray skies on this Monday morning are like hemlock in my orange juice. A "get-in-jail-free" card for the seasonal affectiveness disorder that I've been so valiantly fighting off thus far. Let's face it, summer in San Francisco is cold. Vacationers don't think, Oh, let's go to San Francisco and bask in the sunshine! I can work on my tan!  Living here is tough for me because I'm always in vacation mode. But I love the bay area, so for now, I'm stuck.

I've selfishly asked Meeg to constantly post, upload and text her vacation joy to me. Even if I'm not there, I can be there mentally and share a moment via electronics. Really, it doesn't take much for me to be there mentally. Does a child need prodding to be whisked away to Disneyland? 

Take the photo above, for instance. I can feel the heat on my naked shoulders, I can feel the grains of sand swirling between my toes with each lap of a dying wave, I can hear the breeze rustling in the palm leaves, and I can smell the coconut suntan lotion and the plumeria blossoms. 

More than anything else, I can feel my whole body exhale.

All the broken hearts, all the regrets, all the angry thoughts melt away like ice cubes left on the sand.  Without the extra weight, my body takes a minute to readjust to the lightness and replaces the missing unhealthy emotions with healthy joy. There is nowhere to go but up.

I reveled in those last paragraphs for a few minutes and felt free, happy and tanned. Then I came back to my present moment and realized that the house needs cleaning and rearranging. The sky is still gray and I have to work tomorrow. 

The challenge for me this week will be to keep the Aloha mentality somehow, and to not beg Dan to send me to Hawaii by myself.

I need to be asleep...

Didn't get jack for sleep last night. What am I doing up? Had a really productive rehearsal at the Tatt's tonight. I guess I should head upstairs to bed. Kinda want to sleep on the sofa with the patio door slightly open.  A cool breeze sounds so nice right now. 

This place is due for a makeover. Whether we move or stay, a makeover is right around the corner. Peace!

Wake the fuck up!

"Sunlight hit me dead in the eye, like it's mad that I gave half the day to last night."

                                                  ~From 'Sunshine' by Atmosphere

Look, I didn't even drink that much last night. I mean, four tiki bars and I only finished half of my drink at each bar: four halves equal two wholes. So, what, two drinks total in six hours? That's nothing, really. If you saw how much my cohorts had, you'd realize how much of a drinking wuss I truly am. But it's 12:45 in the afternoon and I'm wondering what I can do out-of-doors that takes minimal exertion. Is this a hangover? Dammit, if I'm gonna suffer the consequences, I should at least be able to enjoy the actions.

To be honest, I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go last night. No, I actually didn't. I've been running around, on the go with a full schedule for the past few weeks and I really felt overbooked last night. But Meeg was gonna be gone for a while (Hawaii, Seattle and who knows where else) and then she might just move to Boston when she gets back, so to the tiki bars I went.

I've never really had a bad girls' night out and this one was probably one of the best on record. These were some of the cutest, smart-ass, fun-loving girls that I've ever had the pleasure of invading a bar with. I'm so glad I brought my camera. One picture is worth a thousand words and these pictures tell all.

The only downside of the night was when we called Zen and Jack to see if they would be home so we could lock the house down (at about 3:30 am) and they said that they were at the beach. Since the beach is only three blocks away, and I thought they'd have Gretchen (my adopted daughter) with them, I thought I'd drop by to give Gretch a hug, and besides, a nighttime ride is always exhilirating.

Fail. Dan called them back to see which part of the beach they were on and to make sure Gretch was with them. She wasn't, but he was.

What's he doing in my part of town??

True, it's not my town, and he's still friends with Z and J, but dammit, this doesn't help when I'm trying to be as far away from him as I can. Especially when he's on MY beach. I mean, can't they have hung out elsewhere?

Ah well, part of moving on is moving past and  I need to move past these feelings of anger, of sadness and mostly of even caring; I need to move past feeling anything and move into feeling nothing. 

The opposite of love is not hate, it's apathy. 

I want to get to where I don't feel anything at the mention of his name. I'm on my way, but last night caught me off guard. I thought about the times we spent around the beach, for only a moment, but it was enough to make me feel like an idiot. So I got mad, shook most of it off and went to sleep.

I'm just happy to see that the sun's out and it's a new day. I really like my life and eventually, he'll be just another random memory.  I'm halfway there. A few more months like the ones I've had recently and I'll be all the way there.

I want some frozen yogurt from Tutti Melon. Gotta go.

Let the outpourings begin.

I didn't tell anyone but Dan about this one. Well, he actually told me. "You should get a blogspot on blogger." he'd say. But why would I need one when I already have myspace and my weekly blogsite?, I thought. He was right. Everyone needs a place to come to, as the song says, to tell their troubles to. I don't want to burden the people I love with more of my whining than I already do, and chances are, no one I know will read this. That's actually a very liberating thought. I could write things down in a journal, but I'm always closer to my laptop, and sometimes, when faced with my actual paper journal, the blank pages can only bring blank thoughts.

I had dinner in the city with Ern last night. I think we would've talked all night if I didn't have to work this morning. It's nice to be able to just chat with someone and not have to worry about what else might happen. I knew in my head what wouldn't happen. I'm not there yet, with anyone it seems. I'm just not ready to commit to something like that right now, although I can tell already that I'd like to spend more time with Ern. I really enjoy his company. His kindness, his open-mindedness and his wit are very easy to be around.  But as much of a "sexual person" as Ern seems to think I am, (and I'm glad he finds me "intoxicating) I'm just finally getting my life back after a year and a half of giving it to my relationship with Mj, and that's a good thing.

I feel better than I have in a while. It's not important anymore for me to remain friends with someone who doesn't want to be friends with me. I truly believe that it's his loss. When I think of what a wonderful, colorful-albeit-crazy life I have, and all of the adventures that I share with my loved ones,  I think of how damned LUCKY I am to even be a part of it. And I think of how people like Ern and others want to be a part of it, and I realize that I don't have the energy left to wonder about those who don't. Good luck to them. Their absence just leaves room for others to join in. 

And to think I was willing to go on with just a "working relationship" (ie, booty calls, trips and fun), just because I enjoyed being around this person.  Again, his loss. I'm sure his spot won't be too hard to fill.

Mike's still a spot in my life that's working itself out. I enjoy our friendship. We've been friends (and family) for too long to not try to preserve that now. I know that I don't want to be in a relationship with him like the last one we were in. Talk about failure!

For the time being, leaning on each for support every now and then is turning out to be another good thing.

On a serious note: even though I seem pretty cavalier about my feelings for Mj, it did take me a while to get here. I don't enter into any relationship easily, I fall in love even less easy, and I fall out of love hardest of all. 

Mj's lack of ability to communicate with me post breakup has made the latter easier than I'd like, but at least it's easier. I'm sure he had his reasons for not wanting to remain friends ("baby steps", as he'd like to say), but really, common courtesy to even acknowledge simple "Hope life's treating you well." texts would have been appreciated. Apparently, that's beyond his scope of control, so he'll become the first ex that I haven't considered a friend after the breakup. Life goes on. Without him. Take your baby steps with you and keep walking.

Positive thinking forces me, as always, to not consider the last year and a half of my life a huge waste of time. I'm smart enough to know that I have important lessons to learn before history repeats itself. And I'm humble enough to know that this is all part of my God's bigger plan.

Gotta get ready for a big day and night. Tiki tour tonight...