2/4: Attractiveness

Since the Superbowl yesterday, a LOT of folks have been dishing out commentary about “a certain lead singer of a rock band who performed in the halftime show.” His tattoos, his physique, his choice of clothing, his singing, etc. Many women all over find him attractive. I’m not one of them. Partly because of my sexuality.

As an Aromantic Asexual… I think much of my distaste for this lead singer is because of his attitude and ego. There’s a saying somewhere about how no matter what you look like on the outside, if you’re kind and good to others, your beauty shines from the inside out. Something along those lines.

His music is okay. I like some songs, but if you waved a concert ticket in my face, I’d probably shrug my shoulders. His vanity and ego just seem to overshadow everything else. This is merely my impression. I’m sure he may do some nice things for fans and such, but again, those are overshadowed by vanity and ego.

His looks are what I want to talk about. Mixed in with slight jabs at his clothes, I’ve noticed some women drooling in written form over his shirtless performance. Now, just because I don’t experience romantic or sexual attraction doesn’t mean I don’t find men attractive. Some men.

His tattoos are all over the place and, as one woman at the shelter when I was there noted about people with lots of tats, have them tell a story. If they don’t work with each other to tell the story of you, they seem messy and it doesn’t come across as attractive. I knew he had a fair number of tats, but until I saw pics of him from yesterday, I had no idea how many.

Or how jumbled they seem. His physique was certainly defined and decent, but again, the tattoos and his vanity just don’t pull me in.

For an example of beautiful men inside and out, take Tom Hiddleston. Similar body type, toned but not super muscular He-man type. But look at the person he is. Down to earth, gentle, caring, compassionate. That is WAY sexier to me than the singer’s ego and vanity.

Be more than your looks. Check your ego and vanity at the door. Treat others as you wish to be treated in life. You never know when you may end up in their shoes.

~A

2/3/19: Scannerisms

I’ve blogged recently about my difficulties finding work. I’ve struggled finding my niche in society. And after watching videos and reading books, I do know WHY, at least in part, I’m having so many issues.

I’m a Scanner (Barbara Sher’s term) or what has been coined more recently, a Multipotentialite (see video below). I have a couple of Barbara’s books, and man, they make sense to me. Then I found the video below and it still clicks.

The problem is that society doesn’t see us as valuable in traditional environments. As the video mentions, our society thrives and focuses on people being “specialists.” But us Scanners are anything BUT specialists. We know a bit more than enough to be competent in several things, but never hone in on ONE thing.

I have my BA in English, creative writing as my focus. But I’m not writing all the time. I go through phases where I can work on my fiction for a few months, and then that winds down and I focus on another thing.
I’m the type of Scanner Barbara refers to as a Cyclical Scanner.

When it comes to my core passions, I have four. And I shift, mostly circular in nature, between those four things. Writing, Photography, Web Design, and Sewing/Design.

And then there are the “others.” My storage unit is full of supplies for the “others.” Oh, I need to paint some shoes to match this costume… Other. Make a mask? Other. Design a book cover? Other. Make a piece of jewelry for something? Other. And soooo many more. My home, and by extension my storage unit, is a place of variety and creativity. I do many, MANY things, but am no expert in any one of them. Pretty decent at several of them, but no expert. It doesn’t mean I love any of them more or less. My “Big Four” are the ones I’m “pretty fucking good” at.

So, how does this tie in to job hunting?

Our society has become entranced with Specialists. Look at job listings sometime. In accounting, you have listings for Payroll Specialists and so on. In tech, well, don’t get me started. All the various programming languages and certifications and …. yeah. In medicine, engineering, the trades (spot welder versus sheet welding) and most areas of employment, you’ll find a call for specialists.

But for a decent chunk of human history, it was balanced out between generalists and specialists. One person who fits Scanner types well? Leonardo da Vinci. Most know who he was because of his paintings. But he was also an inventor and so much more. What we call now a “Renaissance Man.”

Scanners and Multipotentialites are Renaissance People. We have a lot to offer society, but society doesn’t see what we can do for them. We are pushed to the outer edges of society and, in many cases, not really taken seriously.

I have a slew of skills I can offer an employer, not just creative stuff. But finding a company that potentially SEES those skills as a package deal worth the time is difficult.

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Do I have other issues that are making my employability difficult? Yes. And I acknowledge them completely.

I do tell people that the best environment for me to work in is where I have a variety of things I can work on and switch back and forth between. And, because of my back, where I can get up and move around as needed.

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Who knows where I’ll end up. I certainly don’t. I want to be able to love my job. Or at least like it enough that I don’t fall asleep halfway through the morning. Granted, that would require me to actually get decent sleep at night. I’m working on it.

~A

2/2: #crowdfunding and #cats

This week has been tough for me. And tonight is the anniversary of losing JoJo. Two years ago, one week after my eviction hearing, I rushed her to Dove Lewis. She wouldn’t have made it to dawn. She hid her congestive heart failure all too well.

She was my soul. We both had the same food issues (hers was an allergy to wheat and I have Celiacs). She was right there, in my face, when I wasn’t feeling well to provide me with some purr therapy to help me feel better.

She chose me in such a clear and obvious way. I was her only human for 14 years. She was 11 months old. I adopted her February 2003, and she passed away February 2017, a month shy of turning 15.

She was a ginger force to be reckoned with. Opinionated, loving, sassy cat. My first indoor cat.

******

I’ll post stuff tomorrow. Tonight is quiet.

~A

1/31: The Stone #poetry

**********

The path in the woods
Meanders
Between brush and grass.
Lorded over by ancient trees.
Protected from the glare of the sun.

Slow, cautious steps lead down.
The edge of the woods clears.
The ground becomes soft.
Rounded pebbles replace
The sharp edges of boulders.

The rock is not far.
It has flattened with time and water.
Long ago, one had to climb its side to stand on top.
It is no longer the mighty throne of dreams.
The lake laps gently against it.

The others scurry down the shore.
Leaving me alone with the rock of my ancestors.
I stand alone, looking out at the ancient lake that has been part of our generations .
I remove my shoes and let my cloak fall to the ground behind me.
One step up and I take my place.

The hem of my dress barely reaches my ankles.
The layers of white and grey moved by the breeze.
It also questions the placement of the circlet on my head
By way of rearranging my hair.
My companions are beyond my hearing.

I hum a little melody my mother taught me as a small child.
Closed eyes, I hear the wind.
My friends off in the distance drowned out.
I listen to the trees. The water.
They tell me of those who came before.

Eyes open, I take in the serenity of the steep mountains surrounding the lake.
Ancient land, ancient water.
It laps gently against the rock.
Small splashes reach my bare toes.
The water, it is cold.

The sky above is calm, deceiving those below it.
I know its tricks, as the water has own.
The secrets bestowed upon me.
I am one of the
Chosen.

~A

This is a fantasy variant of my “happy place” when I get a panic attack. I imagine myself on the rock.

1/30: Communication #poetry

******

Words on paper.
Strings of syllables.
What means one to the writer
Seen otherwise by readers.

Notes on a page.
Little black dots on lines.
Opens worlds to each other.
The universal language.

The face tells time.
Hands move in measured increments.
We live within those movements.
Finite freedom.

Spoken in hands.
Bodies talking without words.
Gestures and pantomime.
Graceful awkwardness.

Silence is golden.
Speak with nothing said.
Language surrounds us.
Even when we don’t talk.

~A

1/29: The Questions #poetry

The Questions

Where along the way
Did I take the fork in the road?
Paths crossing others’ journeys.
Illuminated briefly.

When did I start scaling walls?
Stepping on myself
Just to reach the other side.
Inflicting pain.

Why leave behind so many?
Burning bridges that refused to burn.
I cannot be for everyone
What I need myself.

What do I do now?
The one within tires easily.
She wants success but
Peace more so.

How must I balance myself?
I am not what I once was.
The pieces shattered.
Some beyond repair.

What am I now?
No longer The Child.
Never The Mother.
Too young to be The Crone.

My path is wide.
Too wide. Too much.
But to narrow it, I must
Sacrifice part of who I am.

That will not do.

~A

1/28: The Ugly Duckling

The Ugly Duckling

Playground teasing.
Eyes. Ears. Teeth. Clothes.
Anything fair game.

Go home to subtle insults.
Useless. Slow. Stupid.
Unwanted child.

Look in the mirror.
What do I see?
Not normal.

The ugly duckling.
Looks at herself.
Wonders when.

When will I be pretty?
When will I be smart?
When will I be accepted?

She looks again
Years gone by.
She’s grown up now.

The mirror shows it all.
You have always been pretty.
You have always been smart.

But will I ever be accepted?
Love yourself first.
Accept yourself first.

You don’t need them to be you.
Their acceptance is conditional.
Yours is not. Be yourself.

~A

1:27: Moss and Ivy #poetry

Ancient stone wall
Crossing the path before me.
Fog enveloping the trees
Along the way.

I climb over.
The moss making my hand slip.
Another hurdle done.
The fog is magic.

I glance back and the wall of fog
Makes the wall vanish.
Did it ever exist?
Or just in my mind.

Each step is treacherous.
Loose stones and tree roots cross my path.
Moss and ivy hide the undergrowth
Flowers strangled, desperate for light.

Another stone wall.
Taller than the last.
I see sunlight over the top.
Unable to reach me.

There is a way.
Must be.
Buried under moss and ivy.
The answer waits.

~A

1/20: From Darkness #poetry

Climbing foot by foot.
Pitch black below me.

Tendrils reaching up
Twisting itself around my ankles
Trying to pull me back down.

I see the sky above
As I slip back.

Rain from above
Makes the climb difficult.
I ask. Beg for help.

A rope hangs over
The edge barely within reach.

I regain my strength briefly.
Holding the rope and pulling myself up.
It slips out of my hand as it has before.

Tendrils below reach again.
I am tired of fighting it.

Cry out again. Help.
I cannot do this alone.
I am almost there. I feel it.

The rope appears again.
I reach for it.

The rain hits me again, blinding me.
Just a little more.
I can do this with a little more help.

~A

1/19: Whatever Comes

Life is full of ups and downs and challenges and … you get the idea. I’ve been to Hell and back so many fucking times in my 46 years that it’s like a second home. I face the challenge, deal with it, move forward.

Today potentially presented a new challenge for me. I started to feel pain in my left armpit last night and it continued through today and is getting a bit worse. I’ve done nothing to the area so I checked it in the mirror for swelling. There is a bit of swelling, so off I went to Urgent Care.

*Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing yet.

I left shortly after with a scrip for Amoxicillin. A swollen lymph node is the culprit. Why it’s inflamed, we don’t know. I see the plastic surgeon who messed up my reduction surgery in 2015 this coming Friday. If the swelling and pain has not begun to subside by then, I’ll request a biopsy.

I’ll also go up and get a boob squish session (ahh, mammograms) this week as well. It’s been a bit over 2 years now. They told me to go for 3 years, but this is a special situation.

There are a handful of things a swollen LN can be. The next level up on fighting some random infection, RA (no other signs, though), Cancer, etc.

Yes, I said the C word. What if it happens to be that? Then I’ll fight to the end of my damn days. The end of the world. It’s one more challenge for me to face.

It could also be nothing major. Which would be nice for once. I mean, shit, I’ve had cellulitis, a heart condition, C-PTSD, anxiety, broken bones and sprains that made the doctors wonder if I’d broken anything. I’ve been homeless. I’ve been raped repeatedly.

I’m still here. I’m still fighting. It would be nice to get a break health-wise. But if not, okay. Bring it on. Never tell me something is impossible. Or, better yet, DO tell me that so I can prove you wrong. I take perverse pleasure in proving someone wrong about me.

This is life. As sucky as it can be, this is life. If things in your life aren’t challenging, then you aren’t pushing yourself to truly live. Granted, no one wants cancer. But challenges are a part of life.

~A