when i die talk all the shit you want...because its true.

let me preface this passage with the fact that this indeed is not some sort of subliminal suicide note. i really dig my life, ALL of the life i have lived (all that which seems like 53 lifetimes in this one)...
but, well, everyone dies.
i could die tomorrow.
so could you.
but, eventually, we all will. lets chalk it up to impermanence and all of that. we're all pus n guts on the inside...
i do however feel a closeness with death, not as a morbid fascination or anything...i just feel, well, close (in the vibe overstanding). i feel like i see through the sinews of human experience that death provides, where its all just transmutation of energy and  cyclic science. and just straight up love. irony...
things i believe: tell everyone you love that you love them, always. if you cant speak it, think it. the energy will get there regardless. dont feel like you must reserve the right to love only family and significant others. love is fucking huge, and encompasses...everyone. dont be embarrassed of it, ever. when people effect you, tell them. they need to know. if you have a question, ask it. be prepared for unsavory responses. savor the human experience voraciously, and regret nothing. ever. forgive relentlessly.
and when i die...because (its true) i may die before you...please dont cover your faces with flowers of me. if ive been shitty to you, tell people ive been shitty to you. if ive wronged you, tell people ive wronged you. (also, of course, feel free to go on about my shining attributes, cliche sounds-of-my-laughter and bredth-of-my-spirit)...but please, dont forget to mention the muckymuck. for if you speak ill of me, its only the truth and you already know that resolution has come. without my faults, i have been nothing. it takes much darkness for a light to shine bright- my past has been the seeds that have grown me. without my dark, ive not been human. and being human is the only thing i wish to ever be remembered for.
and also, i dont want a funeral. because theyre totally gay.
but hey, whatever you need to do to get by i suppose...by that point, it just aint about me anymore.
my life, above anything else, has always been about blatant truths.
continue to tell them, positive or negative- after i leave this plane.
cuz im just a human in some human skin, and im no different than you...
<3

30 Luft Balloons.

OK, so I'm sitting here chainsmoking my favorite brand (yes, yes- we know its passe and incredibly health un-conscious, not to mention I intend to hike the Rockies in mere weeks-its a process of quititude, I swear) inundated with distant sounds of weedwhacker-ing and consistent dings from my cell phone, no doubt nothing less than a deluge of birthday well-wishing-text-messagery. I appreciate it, really. Entirely. But just because the Facebook side bar tells you it's my birthday today, don't feel obligated, really...Today has decidedly been one of the most amazing days of my life insofar. I'm fucking 30. Seriously, I don't know how it happened. And had you asked me 10 years ago, I wouldn't have been able to answer with any certainty wether or not I'd be here at all now. The last month has been a menagerie of emotion, and could even be considered akin to the Kubler-Ross model in death and dying. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, etc etc... But, in the end, I'm still 30 today. And I'm over it. It's awesome. Asmuch as I've purposely, and at times uncontrollably- excluded myself from the grips of a modern society, I still feel inevitable pressures. I feel the warm breath of the societal machine on my back whispering "Are youuuuuu where you THOUGHT you would be at 30?!" "Are you where you're SUPPOSED to be at 30?!"...It put a kink in my system for a short spell, I'm not gonna lie. All the other 30-something gals are married, and are poppin out kids at alarming rates. They're stuck in jobs they loathe, but have very secure retirement plans- which somehow (?) makes up for all the loathsome-stuffs. They own houses and shit. (they're secretly all on Prozac too)... There "they" are, all American-dreaming up in my face...And the machine (and er...biology) is telling me that I want this stuff too? Really? Truth is, I DON'T want this stuff. I DON'T want 2.4 kids and a dude who doesn't understand me who I'm probably going to divorce anyways. I don't want a mortgage larger than my paycheck, and I want to honor who I am incessantly- thats all far too selfish a sentiment for the machine to handle. And I'm not secretly on Prozac, I surpassed that shit years ago. I'm openly on Cymbalta and Xanax. I want to grow at the rate my emotions and spirituality and sureity dictates- not at the rate society deems it appropriate. I will wait forever for my perfect guy, and I won't ever settle for less than. I will continue being an ardent feminist, self-helpist, soul-seekist, artist, purveyor of the lovely and strong. I will continue to be outspoken and suffer minor bouts of tourettes when I deem it appropriate. (Cuuuuunt!) I will continue to relentlessly, messily, whole-heartedly be myself...a woman who I have always adored and admired. My history speaks volumes about resilience and fortitude. But it also speaks volumes about the things in which are most important. Love. Family. Courage. Grace. Forgiveness. Love. I am who I am this year, more than any other- because of myself. But there is no question that there would be no "myself" at all without the family and friends who have built me. I'm 30, and I am so very blessed to be so..... <3

Where Do All The Formerly-Crazy People Find Internet Dates?

Well, thats half a lie of a title. I'm still crazy. I just happliy link it nowadays to a functional, lovely omniscience with an aire of wellness. I liken it in the way that alcoholic is always an alcoholic, even if sober for years. Yep, still crazy. In moderation, and with intent. (Can I get my fucking gold coin now already?)...Internet dating: I don't understand where I fit in. The following is a short synopsis of the people I have met while internet dating: Mr. Manic Depression, Mr. Bipolar Disorder (but only sometimes), Mr. Promiscuous Hepatitis C (alias: "the sexter"), Mr. Make-It-All-Better, Mr. Loud-Chewing-Noises-And-Weird-Sniffing-Tic, Mr. I-Cleverly-Photoshopped-My-Harelip-Out-Of-My-Profile-Pictures, Mr. I'll-Refer-To-You-Only-As-"Fuckface" and "Bitchmouth"-From Here On Out (he was a therapist)...YES, all these men truly exist, and YES, I have actually gone out on dates with all of them. So...my question...where do the FORMERLY crazy people all go to find dates when theyre almost 30 and their biological clock is ticking and they want a date and a longterm relationship but dammit also just want to get laid with another formerly (possible never-at-all) crazy person GO?
...to be continued