On the verge of Adventure

So here you stand on the verge of adventure with just enough time to think before you plunge, heart-first, into the sweet and terrifying unknown. A step back, and the tiny voice of doubt begins, just as a whisper at first, growing louder until he's screaming, " be rational! You cant possibly thing this will work..." 

He's right, you know, you don't have the time, or the funds, or the courage, or the know-how... False! If you let him, he will talk you out of all your heart's desires. Remember, there is always room for doubt in anything worth the effort. 

The key is to quiet him as quickly as possible, readjust, and take a step forward. You mean business; and yes, you can do this! 

Daydreamer Anonymous

I am not a perfectionist. I am an idealist; a dreamer. The world that I prefer is that which I create. Ideally, I suffer, I learn, I love, I live...I live.

Really, I exist. Not unlike the mood-ring upon my finger, I simply and superficially change color to adapt to situations in which I find myself.

I think that I am on the verge of insanity. The line between reality and the concoctions of my own imagination is becoming increasingly blurred with each passing day. I know it will be the death of me.

Simply put, I daydream.

Simply put, an alcoholic drinks.

This is an addiction like any other; all-consuming and violent. I cannot recall a time, if ever there was one, that I have been sober.

Hi, I'm BeeMarie, and I am a Daydreamer.

Goodnight.

She sleeps against the wall with one arm around her stomach so as to pretend, if only a moment, that he is holding her; that she isn't alone again tonight. With the other hand, she clutches the sheets or the edge of the pillow beneath her head. Moments such as these are fleeting, you understand, and it is necessary to anchor oneself so as not to be taken with the current of debilitating loneliness that always follows feigned fulfillment.

The more solid her physical grip, the less crippling her emotional distress. Just hold on. This too shall pass.

--BêëMåri3

What About Kevin Taylor and his Black Belt in Karate?

"Tell me what you make of this: So I'm kinda dating this girl. I go over to her house yesterday and we're.... you know..." He flashes us a mischievous, slightly gap-toothed smile, and winks for a millisecond too long. Yes, we know exactly where he is going with this, and cannot help but allow ourselves to snicker in delight and disbelief.

"So I'm hitting it from the back, right? And to test if she has any 'bi tendencies', I put my arm like this in front of her and say, 'yeahhh, lick that chocha! Lick that chocha!!' And let me tell you, she starts goin' at it, bro! She's all like this and like that..."

He proceeds to enthusiastically make-out with the mock vagina he has now created  by squeezing his bicep and forearm together.  My ears grow warm with embarrassment, and i divert my gaze so as not to blow our cover as lesbian lovers. Surely a lesbian wouldn't become so flushed at such a reference to "chocha licking," I thought. I suppose he was too engulfed in his own story to notice my suddenly enhanced pigmentation anyway.

"So after I finish, I ask her, 'would you ever do anything with a female. You know, explore that venue?' And you know what this bitch says?"

We indulge him with wide eyes and bated breath.

"'Hell no!' (he flails his arms belligerently) I'm like, you fucking liar!! You were all into that shit two seconds ago!"

He pauses for a moment to reflect on the matter. Regaining his composure, he adds, "That made me so angry. I don't even know if i can be with her anymore. 'Cause I don't like liars. No trust. If she can lie to me about that, who knows what else she's lying about.  (Pause.) Thing is, she has this kid.... and I don't know if I can just leave like that because I really kinda love him."

 ...........................................

"Yep," we thought, "he's certifiable... There is no doubt about it"

I suppose i am getting ahead of myself, though. Who is this man? Where did he come from? And why is he disclosing the innermost details of his personal life to two strangers in the park? Allow me to digress. A  pinch of character analysis seems appropriate at this point.

*Crystal*

My best friend and twin soul is a Pussy. Period. Countless times she has left me in the face of danger; observing, from a safe distance, of course,  how i fare against Doberman Pincers, sharks, jellyfish, poisonous snakes, my dad, her dad, potential pedophiles and the the likes. Tis truly a wonder that she is still one of my favorite persons on this planet.

*Kevin Taylor* 

He might have been a looker were it not for the definitive tinge of crazy lingering in his eyes, dripping from his speech, illuminated by his mannerisms. He is "an aspiring actor with a pretty decent resumé."  Apparently, having played a character on America's Most wanted and a Happy-Meal recipient in a McDonald's commercial way back in the day, all he needs now are headshots. Then its the big times, baby. Slightly delusional, but all the same, a kind and interesting soul, clearly fixated on sex, self, and... did i mention sex?

*Side Note*

Aren't we all, though?  Egotistical creatures with interest in the activity which renders procreation (though not always in procreation itself)?

*Back to Business* 

If I'm honest, it was Crystal's "pussy" antics that got us into the whole situation.

I hadn't seen her in quite some time, so to celebrate our reunion we did what most misunderstood young women who are in constant conflict with self do: Pay men with needles and rubbing alcohol to supply us with unnecessary decorative body perforations which will inevitably bubble, fester, and sore like a  raisin in the sun. I know. We're too cool. =)

She pierced her nose; me, my navel (for which reason I had my shirt pulled halfway up my stomach for the remainder of the day, for the remainder of the story.)

*Side Note*

Navel is such an ugly word! But belly button only ever seems appropriate if one has an outtie. Outtie.... button....  get it?

Now, innies... Innies are hardly like buttons; they are more like holes. But "Belly hole"  sounds even worse than Navel.  Belly indentation, perhaps? I digress.

*Back to Business*

The tumblies began a-rumbling, so after our daring acts of rebellion, we made a trip to Irie Isles for, you guessed it, that bomb-diggity jerk chicken.  Mmmmm. We decided to take our food to-go and dine al fresco at a nearby Park.

Raccoons inhabit this park.

The pussy is, of course, afraid of raccoons.

With hungry little Meeko 10ft away,  Crystal begins to scream and crawl on top of my freshly pierced stomach. I, too, cry out. Then, in the midst of it all, a madman storms over to save the day!

"RACCOON!! You leave these beautiful ladies alone, Raccoon!"

He stands at about 5"10',  200lbs with thin dreads, caramel skin, bare chest, batty-riders and brown eyes with yellowish tints where the white should be. His voice is that of the stereotypical beach-bum, and his demeanor that of a schizo or crack fiend. 

This is Kevin Taylor.

"Sorry ladies." He positions himself like Captain Morgan so that his left leg is resting on the opposite side of our picnic table...so that I'm pretty much on a first name basis with his crotch.  "They ruin the park for everyone. You just gotta tell them, NO RACCOON!!!! I am a beautiful lady!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

At this point I remember why i love Crystal so.  She makes my life interesting.

"So you two ladies are roommates?" he asks.

I am not entirely sure why  "roommate" was the assumption of choice, but  at any rate, we jumped at the opportunity to revert to our old ways of playful deceit and improvisation.

"No, actually. We are girlfriends. "

A smile spreads across his face. "Oh? Ohhhhhh!!! Oh i see. You guys make a beautiful couple.... so you don't like men at all? (he subtly flexes his muscles.)

"Nope. She's it. The real thing."

"And you'd never ever let a guy come in between you two?" (I'm sure he that meant literally.)

"I mean if experimenting would make her happy, i guess. But, we've already been together so long, and it has never come up. We love each other, and that's enough. Would you let somebody come between you and your soulmate?" *play with her hand and gaze lovingly into her eyes* 

"You don't feel like you have this calling to give birth?

We find his fascination with our condition amusing and continue to spin our web of lies detailing the process by which we will have Crystal's twin brother donate his sperm for artificial insemination so that the child born will be of both our bloodlines.

This does not please Kevin Taylor one bit.

"Oh no, no, no. I don't think you should do that. Because, you see, you have your bond... and then you have your bond with your brother....  But for you to have a bond with HER brother....  that's just COVALENT BONDS!!! It's not going to work! trust me."

We went back and forth on the matter for several minutes; us insisting we were happy, him suggesting it was his civil duty to impregnate me if it meant preventing those "covalent bonds."

Finally he gave up and permitted us a glimpse of his own personal life. How he was "hitting it from the back, right?" And what did we think of this?

"If human beings allowed themselves to fully experience the entire spectrum of their sexuality, it would be limitless. Society and social conditioning establish within us these sexual boundaries to which we adhere. Same-sex relations, for example, weren't as frowned upon in many ancient civilizations, and people openly partook in them. By the same token, marrying a 12 year old was also not uncommon. Voila! Homosexuality and pedophilia. Don't worry, your girlfriend acting the way she did doesn't make her any less "straight."

"Woah woah woah! pedophilia?! I'm not Michael Jackson, here."

*Side Note*

 Dear lord, why did this man have to take it there?!

*Back to business*      

"Michael was not a pedophile. Innocent until proven guilty, right? Because he didn't fit into the little box that is our social norms, people were afraid and felt the need label him a freak. Because he loved and tried to compensate for a childhood he was never allowed, they called him a pedophile. The whole world had been watching Michael since he was knee-high to a grasshopper... I think he has permission to be a little different."

"Yeah, well what about all the people watching me, huh? And I'm not all fucked up. I didn't change my face a million times. What about Kevin Taylor and his black belt in karate?!"

"Are you really comparing yourself to Michael Jackson right now?," we teased. "Because in all seriousness, you couldn't lick the dog doo-doo from the bottom of his shoe."

He smiled and shrugged. "Yea. i guess not that many people are watching me." (immediately humbled)

What a beautiful stranger Mr. Taylor was. Exhausted from adventures and our web-weaving, we bid him farewell and made an empty promise to return to the park later on that week. With peck on crystal's neck and our fingers interlaced, we committed to our established roles until in the car and out of site.

From time to time i find myself thinking of this man I barely know. I hope he does get those headshots done so that one day the world might finally know of Kevin Taylor and his black belt in Karate.

-BêëMåri3

 

A Letter to My Circadian Rhythms

Dear OH GREAT INTERNAL MASTER CLOCK,

Do you mind if I call you MC? I'd like to be completely real with you at this particular moment in time. You see, 1:48 am is really too late, or too early, for all the bullshit. Now, MC, It has occurred to me that human beings tend to have a general sleep-wake pattern that falls in accordance with the 24-hour day. On average we sleep 8 hours and wake for 16. And unless one has a mistress to meet "later on on the night-shift" the sleeping part usually takes place at night. Now, I didn't make the rules, and trust me, were it up to me, I'd move to a community that lived otherwise. However, since we both know that not to be the case, at least not any time soon, for now, I'd like to have a word with the Big Cojones in charge.

*Side note*: It would be interesting wouldn't it? Living in a place that slept during the day and came to life at night? And I'm not just talking about "nightlife." A place where one could leave one's home at 2 am to meet a colleague for lunch at Irie Isles. God, their Jerk Chicken is out of this world!
*Back to Business*

So, 'splain me this MC:

9:00 pm - Girl falls asleep.

Circa 1:06 am - Girl lays in bed in disbelief that yet again she has awaken before the sun.

1:10 am - Girl realizes she has been sleeping on her glasses for a greater part of the last 2 hours.

1:10:30 am - Girl thinks, "These shits better not be broken; I refuse to go back to the days of masking tape and angling my face just right so as not to have my excuse for glasses slip right off the slope that is my nose."

1:11 am - Girl celebrates mini-victory for picking out the most durable frames Lenscrafters had to offer. =)

1:20 am - Girl gives up hope on trying to go back to sleep, and strategically climbs down from top bunk as not to decapitate herself with spinning ceiling fan. (That would be far to messy for a Sunday morning.)

1:48 am - Girl Begins this blog.

MC at this time I'd like to focus specifically on the 9:00 pm-circa 1:06 am entries. I don't know if you know this, but that's 4 hours of sleep. HALF of what we established was the norm. Now, word on the street has it that the brain benefits from a good night's sleep. And those are TIME magazine's words, not my own. I sees it like this: I'm functioning at half my potential by the time my world is waking up. So of course I feel the need to compensate during the day with naps and such, which i must say is REALLY putting a damper on my productivity in life in general.

I may be somewhat of a hypochondriac which will probably become more evident through the course of this blogging venture. And I'm not sure if the whole napping thing disqualifies me from the disorder, but here goes. I think i have Advanced Sleep-Phase syndrome. It may be too early to tell, but if this is the case, and if it something that you and i can work out together... I'm all for that. You want to do group counseling? I'm already in the car driving to the session with guess who? that's right, My buddy MC! You want to work out a schedule? I'm open to negotiation. You want some time apart? ......Okay I really must be honest... i don't see us taking a break from one another working out very well, so that may be out. But anything else... you got it.

*Side note*: "disqualify me from the disorder"?? what is this a footrace? See what i mean about the functioning at half the potential?
*Back to Business*

I mean I feel like a half charged LG shine (yes i am bitter about my phone's battery life.) By midday I have to switch to silent because I'm very well on the verge of death....
Then I'm M.I.A. when getting potentially important phone calls, text messages, and such. I mean, i have full signal strength, the bars are there, and its all coming in... but my response time is completely out of whack. Simply unacceptable. I hope we see where I'm going with this, and we can get our shit together by bedtime tonight. Or so help me god, MC, I will break out the Tylenol PMs!!!!!!!!!!!


Forever yours,

BêëMåri3