Symptoms of a Leveling Spirit (or Angels and Bad Guys)

Since my real life crush moved far away, I’ve been spending time with my celebrity crushes.

Misha Collins plays Castiel on Supernatural. Castiel is an arch angel. He is trying to help save the world from Satan and his demons.

Michael Emerson plays Benjamin Linus on LOST. Ben is the bad guy of the show. (Or is he? I have theories.)

How is it that I can be in love with both an angel and a bad guy? Well, as one of my favorite Walt Whitman quotes goes:

Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am vast. I contain multitudes.

There are things that the characters have in common; blue eyes for one. I’m a sucker for blue eyes. Then there’s this: They both have a certain sadness in their characters, a conflict within themselves that seems to make them so vulnerable. This is what draws me to them.

It’s fun having celebrity crushes. It can also be as sad as real ones. I find an actor that I love then decide to watch other movies that actor has been in and realize that it’s the character that I fell for, not the actor. I’d love to watch more from these actors, but I’m afraid to learn more about them in case the fantasy get shattered.

So here I sit in love with an angel and a bad guy.

This little poem...

This little poem has been a favorite of mine for a very long time I don't know who wrote it:




I wish I were a glow worm
A glow worm's never glum.

Cuz' how can you be grumpy,
When the sun shines out your bum?



Have a Happy day!

Muppets: Bohemian Rhapsody

Surprised Kitty Makes Me Laugh

Birthday Eulogy Winner

This is me being 40. I don't have my glasses on. They were sucked into a wormhole. (Dan is laughing the rest of you have no idea what I'm talking about. But you're probably used to that.)

Thank you to my birthday eulogy contest entrants! You helped make my birthday GREAT! Thanks to Christina C. (who made me laugh SO HARD), David A. (Thanks, Dav!), Emily H. (Beautiful woman!), Kara Davidson (no relation) and my family member entries: Brian and Michelle.

The winner was Danny Mildew who wrote and recorded a pop punk song:

Maaike Davidson (R.I.P.)
by Dan Murphy

She was the beautiful, talented, Maaike Davidson
She was generous, hilarious, one of my best friends
She made me feel like a million bucks
Even though I really suck
Maaike Davidson

She loved making crafts, writing plays, Maaike Davidson
She loved action flicks and science fiction, British pop rock songs
She really was one helluva teacher
You really missed out if you didn't meet her
Maaike Davidson

She wanted to go to Borneo to save the orangutans
She wanted to be a monkey when she finally grew up one day
Her dad was from Holland
Her mom she was callin'
And now she gets to be with them
In the great beyond
Where she has gone
Maaike Davidson

She was the beautiful, talented, Maaike Davidson
She was generous, hilarious, one of my best friends
I hope that she now rests in peace
With all her favorite celebrities
Maaike Davidson

When I catch myself singing it, it fills me with self esteem!! I love singing to myself that I am beautiful and talented. Thanks to those who voted: "Stache," Marie, Beth, Lewie, Kylie, Ted, Hyrum, Kara D., Kara S., Logan, Nicole, and Emily. And a special thanks to everyone who made my birthday such a fun and memorable one!! I love you all!!

40...where is thy sting?

Today is my 40th birthday. Guess what...it ROCKS!! I thought I'd hate turning 40, but I'm having an amazingly good day. What makes the difference? Good friends, good family, and learning to laugh.

I've gotten tons of well-wishes on Facebook, through emails, and text messages. I woke up to a bunch of chocolate chip cookies and two big ones made into a 40 for me. (With a note that it's perfectly acceptable to eat cookies for breakfast on a birthday.) I've gotten random presents (bunny ears, a Queers pin, a magazine for making crafts, and some always welcome cash!) beautiful and funny cards, and a bevy of eulogies.

Tonight friends who are in town will drop by for a cupcake. They get to vote on the eulogies I've received and the winner gets a prize. Then I'll collect them all into a zine and send them out for everyone to read.

I was so sure that 40 was going to suck. But it doesn't. I'm happier than I have been in a while; I know what direction my life is going in. I'm happy as myself.

It took me a few years to get here...but I'm more aware of who I am than I have ever been.

I like it.

Ballad of the Lonely Argonaut

So...I've decided to go for a doctorate degree.

First step, paperwork.
Second step, GRE.
Third step, interviews.

I'm on the paperwork part, hunting down who gets what. Then I've got to find my three references and go to a few meetings to get to know some people.

My GRE is scheduled for January 7th. I hope I only have to take it once. (Amazon is sending me a book that Dan recommended for me.)

Ok, I'll keep you all up dated. I guess if I know what's happening it's only fair to let you know.

All Hail Queen Schmooquan!!

Please welcome Queen Schmooquan!!

This is the kitty I got from the Humane Society. She is a little kitty with big eyes and big paws.

Her name at the Humane Society was Dione but I changed it to Queen Schmooquan--or Schmoo--for short. (I got the name from one of Goat Girl's other pseudonyms. I love her song "What do you think of me?" and I was singing it as I drove around town that day. Then I thought that Queen Schmooquan would make a great name for a cat.)

Anyway, this is the first pet that's all mine. I've never had my own pet before! I grew up with tons of family pets, but she is my first own kitty!! This morning I realized just how much I love this new kitty. And guess what...I think she loves me too!

The Grave by Susan Enan

All of your work won’t fit in the earth
When you’re lying underground in the grave
Whatever a man in your balance can
There’s nothing you can buy in the grave

In the next age no stock exchange
Is gonna pass on the money we made
No lottery wins, political spins,
When were lying underground in the grave

New surgery defies gravity
But it all falls away in the grave
And who’s gonna care what color you wear
There’s no fashion show in the grave

So swallow it down
No easy way round
Just a hill for the thrills that we crave
But no medicine to stop kingdom come
It’s your time get in line for the grave

And we’ll all be the same
And we’ll go as we came
Side by side as we lie in the grave
We’ll all be the same
We’ll go as we came
Side by side as we lie in the grave.

In The Throes of Giving Up

Want to break free but don’t remember how—can’t remember the steps. Gave everything away last time and have no energy left to pour into a new friendship.

So tired. Don’t think anyone understands. SO tired.

Sitting here crying out for someone to talk with…but there isn’t anyone. Nobody strong enough I suppose. There are a few I could call on, but none really willing to listen. None willing to really listen…they all looked like strong enough hands in the beginning. Suppose I could find a professional to listen. But then what? What about the next time? Eighty bucks a shot for a listening ear? Isn’t that what we make friends for in the first place?

Can’t make new friends. Too tired. So many years of making new friends and so many years of watching them slowly walk away. Not their faults…life moves on for them. So jealous of that. Their lives move on.

So tired. I’m just so tired.

My New Hollywood Crush

This is Misha Collins. He plays Castiel on "Supernatural." He is my new Hollywood crush. I don't have a "real life" crush.

The blue shirt picture is Misha, and then the other one is him in character as Castiel.

I think I'm in love with Castiel because I like damaged guys. Why not, monkey likes monkey company. But I do have to say: mmmmm.

The White Trash Period of My Life

Many people have phobias. I have many phobias. One of them is bugs. I HATE bugs. Ladybugs are okay. And an ant...but not ants. Not a madhouse of ants moving to a new place. Blech.

So, I was getting bitten by something as I was sleeping. Lots of itchy, red bites. Ever since I was a little kid whenever I got bit by something the bites end up as huge red welts. Anyway, I was going crazy. Literally.

One night I felt something crawling. I grabbed a sandwich bag and captured the culprit. I looked at him and then I looked him up on line. He looked like an honest to goodness bedbug. I was so GROSSED OUT! While I was online I ordered a kit that kills bedbugs and prevents them from returning. Then I slept on the couch.

The next day I got rid of my bed. I put it out to the trash. (I had another bed already, luckily because I was too poor to buy a new bed.) I bought some bug killer and sprayed EVERYTHING. Then I washed every bit of bedding, even stuff that was up in my closet. I bug sprayed the floor, the walls, and my chair. Anything fabric either got washed or sprayed.

I slept with my window closed so nothing could come in (and by the way, it was hella hot!) and I've rearranged my room so that my bed isn't even in the same place it was to begin with.

A few phone calls to Mom to help me calm down. A few worries that the remaining bites were psychosomatic because I'm a pro at stressing and I do that kind of stuff to myself. I had to stay home one day because my brain wouldn't let go of the itch or the fear.

The bedbug killer kit arrived and I went at it again. Spraying, washing, cleaning. Fearing.

Last night, there were no new bites on me. I think it's over.

All because of ONE bug.

Love Advice from Johnny Depp

Last night I dreamt I was lying under a pool table leaning on Johnny Depp. We were just talking and he was telling me about all the mistakes he made in his search for love. He gave me great advice...just what I needed to hear. He gave me a big hug and then I left.

I was going to put some of the great advice into action but I was startled by three men wearing kilts and fell off the balcony into the orchestra.

If only he'd given me advice on not falling from balconies.

Confessions of a Futon Revolutionist

Yesterday Beth and I sold the entertainment center. As we looked around the living room, this is what the apartment holds: A couch (hide-a-bed), a loveseat, a chair, a tv table and a hope chest. If you look into the kitchen we also have a table with four chairs.

The furniture has cost us a total of $10.00.

I love dumpster diving!!!

A Distorted Reality is now a Necessity

Dan has moved away. He’s not all the way away, but he’s on the road. That counts.

• He taught me to keep plants alive and to love growing veggies and herbs.
• He taught me about pop-punk music and how to be a DJ although I’m still chicken to talk into the microphone.
• He taught me to skateboard.
• He taught me to let go of some of the old things I’d been holding on to.
• He taught me to voice some doubts about life because there may be others who need someone to say it.
• He gave me his time, his laughter, his love.

Thank you my friend. Good Luck. And, to quote the 80’s band Simple Minds: Don’t you forget about me…

The Return of the Grievous Angel

The joy in your voice was nothing compared to that of your eyes. Dark eyes I'd seen filled with tears that you were never ashamed of, now filled with such happiness as I'd never seen in you before.

You described her dark hair and beautiful eyes with more clarity than I'd ever heard you speak. You didn't search for words, they were all right there at your brilliant disposal.

Caught completely unaware by the fact that you still have power to break my heart, I listened and forced a smile on my face. Concentrating completely on keeping the tears from my eyes I responded positively to your earnest happiness.

Your happiness was, after all, my greatest desire.

WAKE TO BELIEVE by Liz Durrett

Round, round goes the clock
My panic sounds like tick-tock
Night, oh night, move on
Your clutch is much too strong

Go ten hungry hawks
Around our heads just as my thoughts
Dive down, down, down, down
I call and call and call them off
Then wake to believe
They're all inside, inside of me
Each beat of their wings
Is all inside me

Mind, mind let me go
Your prison is all I'll know
Shroud, oh shroud please fall
Just cover and cloak it all

Go ten hungry hawks
Around our heads just as my thoughts
Dive down, down, down, down
I call and call and call them off
Then wake to believe
They're all inside, inside of me
Each beat of their wings
Is all inside me
Round, round goes the clock

A Short History of Nearly Nothing

Why can't all of our decisions be between good and evil? It would be so much easier to choose. Should I tell the truth and let world peace reign or should I lie and watch the fires burn? See, easy.

Mostly our decisions are things like: Should I go to the concert with Dan or should I stay home and work on crafts. That's not an earth-shattering decision but it was one that took me ALL DAY to decide.

"Why?" you ask. Because of so many things 1) Dan is leaving and I want to spent as much time with him as I can BUT 2) I don't like live concerts because it makes my brain scream (because of my ear problems) BUT 3) I've ditched him so many times that I hate to ditch him again, BUT 4) I'm not really interested in the band. BUT 5) Soon I won't be invited by Dan to anything because we'll be in different states, BUT 6) I've had a hella long week.

It goes on.

Finally I decided to stay home, so I called Dan and told him. Then I spent the next hour wondering if I made a good decision and if I should change my mind and meet him at the concert.

This is a daily occurrence with me. I feel like those little kids who don't want to go to bed because they're afraid they're going to miss something but the adults just do boring stuff. Decisions are hard for me. Just ask Dan about when he asked me to go camping.

Where Is My Mind

(Image by Loretta Lux)

Sometimes we fight, my brain and I. Such a dichotomy between what I want to do versus what I am able to do because my mind won't let me go. Every detail of every day has a fight.

Does any one understand what it's like to have to fight your brain to get up out of bed? To have a desire to continue? To even want to face life?

This doesn't mean that there aren't things that bring me joy...it just means that I have to FIGHT my brain to do those things. Do you know what it's like to have to fight with yourself to do something you LIKE to do?

Everyday I have to fight a battle with my brain. Every morning I have to make myself get up and go. Every single day. No wonder I'm tired. No wonder I dream of finding a quietness that never ends. No wonder I don't care who comes or goes because no one really understands.

I am so tired of fighting this battle. Can't anyone step in and fight it for me?

Or at least with me?

Jesus the Mexican Boy Gave Me a Ride on the Back of His Bike

You never know when you might be someone's hero. You never know who might need you that day. You never know how many peoples' hearts cry out to be rescued--and you could be their savior.

Yesterday the sunshine warmed the blacktop into bubbling tar. My feet ached from the heat and I felt that it would be impossible for me to go on. My mind wandered in to realms of giving up, calling it quits, just lying down and letting nature do its worse.

My eyes closed and I longed for the comfort of the forever-rest. Suddenly a shadow came past my aching eyelids. I slowly opened my eyes. There was a boy with dark skin. He smiled and, pouring some water into his hand, offered me a drink. Then he picked me up and put me on the back of his bicycle.

Now I follow him wherever he goes.

Flying to Montreal

The last several entries have had a theme--they are song titles and/or lyrics that I found particularly inspiring. This entry, however, is about a dream I had last night. It just goes to prove that no matter how creative I like to think my conscious mind is, my subconscious is far far more interesting.

I was on a tour of a very boring building. We were throwing CD's into the swimming pool and then trying to hit them with other CD's. The tour moved on and I found my friend Dan DJing a show in a kiosk. He came out of the booth and we sat on the floor. Neither of us were wearing shoes. As we sat next to each other, we discovered that if Dan put his foot on mine, we'd move around and around the kiosk like a record. No effort on our part, we just slid across the floor. After a while we both laid down on our stomachs on the floor, still touching feet and we started to fly.

We flew around the city for a bit, getting used to navagating. We discovered that if we put an arm around the other we could go faster and fly smoother. So, we flew to Montreal. It didn't take us long to get there. The first thing we did was scare the crap out of a French-Canadian begging for money on the street. (We may have scared him sober for the rest of his life.) We flew around and discovered big pink fluffy clouds. Then, we decided we'd better head home.

On the way out of Montreal we had to stop at a tourist thing and they wanted us to take a bus home. They made us enter this building and Dan was mad because he knew it would take a lot longer to go home in the bus than if we just flew back. Anyway, while waiting I found the best hat with a monkey on it (and the hat came with a pair of goggles!!) so I was buying it and the guy gave me a hot dog. Well, I didn't want the hot dog and Dan's a vegetarian so I held an auction to sell it. It went for $100,002.00 Now, that's a hot dog!

Finally I got my hat, Dan tricked this guy in to opening a window and we flew away. Dan and I had so much fun flying and talking. We saw the world from a different perspective, we laughed, we talked, and we thouroughly enjoyed each other's company.

We could only fly because we held on to each other.

Dan, you're a great friend. I love you very much. Thanks for helping me to fly.

So, You're a Touring Band Now...

I always said that if I had children I'd dress them in lederhosen. I guess Dad didn't believe me. When we walked in to his house, he looked at the kids, then at me. I was so proud of my kids, they carried their instruments so carefully. Dad watched them for a moment and smiled. "What's all this then?" he asked.

My five year old chimed in and said, "We're gonna wear these again on Halloween and go as 'The Sound of Music'."

"So," Dad said with a laughing nod of his head, "Should I invest in college savings funds or therapy for the children?"

"You know me, Dad." I said.

"Therapy it is," he answered.

(PS: I don't have kids. This is just a story.)

I Wrote a Song About Your Car

This Entry Dedicated to Brian. And I think I know who you are.

A blue beast rolling down the road making a rumble to rival Armageddon. Don’t need a key to turn it on. You can even leave it running and take the key with you if you want. If you honk the horn the windshield wipers will move.

Look underneath. Not the hood, but underneath the car. It’s held together by reshaped metal coat hangers. Each wire tenuously holding some vital part into place.

Bring blankets with you in the cold because the beast will take the entire drive to warm up. Oh, and just run with the traffic because the speedometer doesn’t work. Well, it occasionally works. It will pop up to tell you how fast you’re going and then it will sink back down to zero and stay there until it gets the whim to tell you again. The car runs. It does. Despite its name: nova. In Spanish, No va: Doesn’t go.

I wrote a song about your car. But I don’t remember the lyrics anymore. But I guess when you get a car for free you can’t really expect much of a song.