Visions of the World

After years of projecting her animus onto him, she realized that he was her animus, and that they were a divine couple. The bittersweet truth about this, though, was that they'd have to wait until a future life for everything to come together the way it should be.

But it was just her imagination.

She had resolved to let him defeat her only because she didn't know how to find her own strength. And so, for a time, she was "put in her place". After a while, however, she discovered other sources of vitality and learned that what she had was substantial enough that she could go on on her own. In other words, she was not alone.

What does this emptiness mean?

How exhilarating! He speaks in verse. She doesn't believe he does so intentionally, it's just some magical disorder that could possibly fulfill her cerebral needs. At their first meeting, she had hoped he'd want to get to know her as badly as she wanted to get to know him. It had been a long time since she felt that way, and she eagerly welcomed the feeling this time around.

Driving by, sometimes she'd see one of her older neighbors walking out to his mailbox to retrieve his mail. He was always only wearing boxer shorts. In the winter, of course, he'd be in his robe. She wondered how someone could be so carefree.

Then there was the elderly man who lived alone. She only saw him when he was cutting his grass, wearing some gloves and a white hat that he wore to keep the sun off his head. He appeared to be in his 80s. His yard and all his belongings were spotless, perfectly organized and free of clutter. Every now and then she felt the urge to walk up to him in order to start a conversation, but what stopped her was the feeling that this man might be enjoying his solitary lifestyle. She had imagined he was lonely and wanting a neighborly friend, but she concluded that it was her own loneliness that gave her the urge to befriend him.

Two words have given rise to significant synchronicities today.

Syzygy and epicene.

With syzygy, I was reading on the internet about the "syzygy" between anima and animus. Later today, a rather brilliant man sent me an email speaking about the "syzygy" between spiritual and physical union.

With epicene, a poster to a newsgroup I hang out in used the word in his post. Tonight, I was reading a friend's blog and he used the word in one of his apothegms. (Karl is a brilliant man, too!) http://traskvale.blogspot.com/2006/10/trade-off-between-anonymity-and-glory.html

You don't see these words every day.

For the moment, he was shocked; she wanted to be quiet and listen to Ave Maria while it rained outside. He tried to read her thoughts but even her mind was silent. This was a new tragic phase. Usually he could get through to her, penetrate her, but not tonight.

"...[I]n seeking to avoid the pitfalls of sentiment he had developed a science of evasion in which the woman of the moment became a mere implement of the game. He owed a good deal of delicate enjoyment to the cultivation of this art… He had taught a good many women not to betray their feelings, but he had never before had such fine material to work with. She had been surprisingly crude when he first knew her; capable of making the most awkward inferences…of recklessly undressing her emotions; but she had acquired, under the discipline of his reticences and evasions, a skill almost equal to his own, and perhaps more remarkable in that it involved keeping time with any tune he played and reading at sight some uncommonly difficult passages."

~The Dilettante, 1903, Edith Wharton

A young woman loved and admired a man for his many charms. He was the quiet type, mysterious, cryptic at times, extremely wise and intelligent (in fact he was a genius), and to her he was many things, including teacher, father, brother, lover and friend. He spent a very long time getting to know the woman, taking interest in her and her life; she would say he knew her more than most. He knew about her dreams and sometimes he knew what they meant. He was not rich, and only lived with the bare necessities. She did not care that he didn't have any money; she loved him anyway.

Later in the friendship, he was usually quiet, and the young woman mistook it for a disinterest in her, and it pained her that he failed to notice her at times, especially when she did everything to get his attention again. Sometimes she would resort to behaving like a child and would throw temper tantrums when she didn't have her way.

She adored this man for many, many years, until the day of his death. He had a will, but because he didn't have much, there was nothing to leave to anyone. But he did leave behind something, and it was the most valueable inheritance of all. The will specified that upon his death, a sealed envelope was to be given to the young woman.

She was mourning his death when she received a letter in the mail. It did not have a return address so before opening it she did not know who it was from. The letter inside read, "I couldn't show you how much I cared for you, but you should know, I loved you."

The woman laid the letter aside while her eyes spilled tears of joy. For, while he didn't show his love during his life, he left her a most meaningful gift. Now in her memories she would know, that the silent man loved her after all, and she could live the rest of her life knowing the happy truth.

I was with my mother and younger sister at the mall. We were going to a video game store so that my sister could buy either a game or some hardware to go with her game system. We walked through the door of the store and immediately a man walked up to us to help us. He began to lead us to the location in the store where the object was that my sister wanted. His hand brushed across my breast. At first, I thought it was an accident, but as we continued walking he intentionally placed his hand between my legs. I felt uncomfortable.

Later, he volunteered to guide us to another store that my mother or sister were looking for. My mother and sister got really far ahead of us and the man grabbed me in a quiet place and pushed me down to the floor. He forced his hand down my shirt and began to fondle my breast.

I felt violated in this dream.

I was on a ship. It was a pad from which planes would take off. A plane was getting ready to take off, when a cat jumped and attached itself to a part of the plane. The plane began to fly away, and the cat fell off the plane into the ocean water below. I wanted to save the cat, so I alerted everyone on the ship, "I'm going overboard!"

Not so long ago, a young woman's heart wanted a special man to possess it, to hold onto it for safekeeping. The woman gave the man her heart in a jar and said, "Please take good care of it." He took it, and for years the heart was happy to be owned by the man it loved. The man talked to the heart every day. He took it with him outside often, to show it his garden, and sometimes he'd put it under the rain so the heart could hear the pitter-patter upon the top of its jar. And the heart swelled with glee to be loved so tenderly by the man, and it pumped, as alive as it had ever been, each time he picked the jar up to admire it. It was, after all, his little heart, and he was extremely proud to call it his own. Often the heart would skip a beat just to hear his voice say, "Hello, my precious heart."

One day, however, the man began to lose interest in the heart. He started to leave it inside the house, on a dark counter top in the kitchen, forgetting to bring it with him outside into the garden. The heart sank, and felt a loneliness more profound than it had known before it had been given to the man. It missed the sound of his voice, and pined to feel the pierce of his blue eyes once more.

Every night the man would walk through the kitchen, and he'd pass by the heart without even glancing at it. He failed completely, now, to notice the heart. This went on for months, until finally the heart lay still inside the jar, completely broken.

I live for these days when I can hear the rain against the window panes, the rumble of thunder and the bright flash of lightening. Since I was a child the storms excited and thrilled me. My father would take me and my little sister out on the front porch to watch them. I loved the smell in the air, and the BOOM! I always held my ears, but not anymore. The other day I visited my grandmother and we were talking about rain. I confided in her that I loved storms, and she reminisced about how much my father loved them when he was a boy. She said he would run out to the back porch and just watch the sky. She demonstrated the look he had on his face; her eyes were wide open with a look of wonder and deep interest.

I Do Not Love Thee
by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

I do not love thee!—no! I do not love thee!
And yet when thou art absent I am sad;
And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

I do not love thee!—yet, I know not why,
Whate’er thou dost seems still well done, to me:
And often in my solitude I sigh
That those I do love are not more like thee!

I do not love thee!—yet, when thou art gone,
I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)
Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone
Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.

I do not love thee!—yet thy speaking eyes,
With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,
Between me and the midnight heaven arise,
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.

I know I do not love thee! yet, alas!
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;
And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,
Because they see me gazing where thou art.

I have to take several very advanced mathematics courses in order to get my math degree. The courses I have to take seem out of my league. I feel lots of anxiety, and almost in a state of panic, I awaken. In the waking state, for a few moments, I am confused and can't tell reality from the dream world, but eventually the reality that I already have my math degree begins to relieve me.

(I've had this recurring dream occasionally for years since graduating in 2001.)

I am sleeping in the bed with an older woman - she's about 70. She is very influential and powerful. She has rolled red hair. I think we were lesbians. When we awaken, I feel very insecure, so she wraps her arms around me as I lay my head upon her bosom. She holds me like this for a long time, tenderly, before getting up in her robe and walking out the bedroom door.

It was very comforting for me to be held by her. I felt secure, loved, as if a child being held by a parent, consoled.
-----

I wonder if this dream was inspired by my coming across the story of Catullus's obsession and unrequited love for Lesbia.

She gave him a valentine on February 14th, but didn't get one in return.

Later, she wrote him a note which said:

"It pains me to know that I love someone that used to love me."

If you don't carefully examine each one before placing it in your mouth, you might eat a rotten grape.

Every night, I spend some time in my head talking to a memory, but it doesn't respond. I don't mind the one-sided conversation, because at least I'm giving the memory breath, keeping it alive.

If you dreamed yourself out of existence, who would dream the dream?

I'm going to bed now so that I can dream.

See you there. (In the dream, not the bed.)

;)

A poem.

Pay up.

We met in our dreams but we weren't for sure that we were dreaming. Do you remember?

A woman was a beautiful model. She gained some weight, and the modeling agency she worked for started to treat her with disrespect. She was in the office of the agency and two men were walking past her to exit the office through the glass door. In passing her, they laughed at her and made comments about her weight gain. I confronted the men and took-up for the model. They weren't so trim themselves. I said something similar to, "You're not so slim yourself."

The woman was supposed to go on a trip with the agency, but every time she went into the office she discovered that she somehow wasn't on the list to go, as if the agency kept secretly removing her from the list because they didn't want the overweight model to go with them. When the model asked if she was on the list this time, the lady working at the desk looked as if she felt sorry for the model. She said, "You've been here before, haven't you? Listen, I'm going to make sure you're on the list this time."

The words can mean anything you want them to say.

"Someone else will keep you warm now."

People told me that,
If the bird loves you,
It will return back to you
When you let it fly away.
What if that bird gets hurt
On its way back and can no longer fly?

Can you still read my mind?
I bet you don't know what I'm thinking
As I sit here thinking my thoughts.
Maybe they're thoughts of you,
But then again maybe they're not.
If I did think of you
Would you be worthy?
Or are you guilty
Of not thinking of me?

I'm depressed again, after having been well for more than a month. I'm not completely willing to say the depression is back for sure, as it could be brought on by PMS. Also, my doctor decreased one medication (Effexor) and increased another (Lamictal) to help me become more balanced as I was being occasionally manic. I'd rather be manic if they can't help me find balance, because mania is more enjoyable to me than depression. When I was manic I was interested again in some of my old hobbies. Today I'm just a slug. I have no interest at all, not even in making a fractal.

Basically, depression makes me feel bored with people and things that once brought me much joy and dominated my life. Fractals, for instance, dominate my life when I'm feeling well, but tonight I was completely disinterested. After sleeping all day I came to my computer with the hopes of finding something or someone online that could make me feel interest, but I've had no such luck. I've just surfed blindly through pages that didn't even touch me.

I haven't been using the energy spray because sometimes when I use it I start to feel weak and lightheaded. My husband is telling me to wait for the PMS to be over before I call my doctor, but if this depression doesn't go away in a few days I'm calling the doctor and telling her I'm going back to the previous drug regimen.

Well, it's happened. I've sold myself.

I am now making a small amount of money off my fractals. I'm not talking about a salary here, though. Until my portfolio grows with more images, I'll only make a little bit. Maybe I can buy myself a CD every month. No, not the Certificate of Deposit CD. I mean a music CD. :) A fellow fractal artist is currently making $150 a month and she's been doing it for about two years. It starts off slow and easy, so it might take me a while to even see my first $50. To begin with, you have to submit ten images of "stock photography" to the website. They have someone review them and they can either get accepted or rejected. I've been told that usually everyone has some of their images rejected. You have to get the first ten in to be a seller. I was surprised that all ten of my images were accepted from the very beginning! OK, well, maybe I wasn't surprised. I have to admit that I feel a sense of pride about my art. I can allow myself this, though, because I don't feel pride about anything else.

On another note.... My dad called and made plans with my husband to go out tomorrow night "for a beer". I'm a little worried, because neither my dad nor my husband drink. Secondly, the last time they went out "for a beer", was the day my husband called my dad eleven years ago to confess he was dating his daughter. He did this without telling me. I was wanting to hide it from my dad, in fear that he would be upset that I was with a man 32 years older than me. But that's beside the point. The point is, my dad is planning this rare event with my husband, PLUS my dad has been having health problems that I am very concerned about. Sometimes my dad tells my husband things and then tells him not to tell me because he's worried that I'll get worried or upset, even things that are related to his health. So I'm hoping and wishing that he doesn't have something very wrong with him to confide with in my husband. It would kill me if something serious was wrong with my dad. I was in tears the other day just imagining all sorts of things about what it would be like without him or my husband. I just don't want to see my dad in discomfort. I can hardly bear seeing him walk these days. In the past few years he's developed a horrible limp because he's having problems with his foot, despite several surgeries. He refuses to use a cane. Sometimes it looks like he's going to trip, and when I'm with him I catch myself grabbing his arm to steady him. He's only 58 years old.

No more sad stuff.

My beautiful stranger, where did you go?

I am going through another creative phase. This time the flow of creative energy is extremely strong and I have been very prolific at creating my art. I take advantage of the flow when it arrives, because it doesn't stay forever. Before last month, it had been more than a year since I had created any images.

My husband probably wishes the flow would stop for a while, because I've been neglecting not only him but just about everything else.

On another note, my 30th birthday was a blast. I spent the day with my husband, father and stepmother. They took me to see "The Incredible Hulk" in the theatre. I don't normally buy movies but this is one that I'm putting on my wish list. When I was a kid, my father and I used to watch the Hulk t.v. show. The Hulk movie that came out a few years ago wasn't that good, but this remake is excellent! My dad - my hero - managed to get me a Hulk poster from the theater. I plan on getting it framed and placing it on my wall next to my David Bowie poster.

Then we went out to eat at one of my favorite restaurants. I had a Maui Margarita and got carded for it. I always get carded! My dad gets a real big kick out of it when that happens.

I received some rather magical gifts. They gave me the complete series of BBC's "Planet Earth" on Blu-Ray DVDs. The second gift made me cry, but only because of sentimental reasons. When I was a small child, my dad wore a necklace that had a photo of me as a baby on the pendant. He's kept that necklace all 30 years, and on Friday, he gave it to me. When I saw it I couldn't stop the tears. Yep, that's me, the big baby crying in the middle of the restaurant.

That pretty much wraps it up for tonight. Like I said, I've mostly been posting to my other blog. If anyone is curious or wants to see my online gallery-blog, just send me an email so I can privately send you the link.

Goodnight!

P.S. About ten minutes ago I took an Ambien sleeping pill. When I came back to my computer, the fractal above began to move on my screen. It became very life-like. My psychiatrist tells me this is not a hallucination. Instead, she says it is called an illusion. This occasionally happens to me after I take my Ambien. Does anyone else experience this with their sleeping pills?

"My heart beats only for you."

I received the most romantic email ever yesterday. I was taken quite by surprise, to know that I might have a secret admirer somewhere out there. Actually, I was quite flattered. When I read the words, my soul reverberated, my heart quivered. I was reminded of the passionate feeling of newfound love in which my emotions and body reacted simultaneously. Could this be one of my soul kin, who has finally found me after searching for me for lifetimes and in numerous universes? Would we reunite and complete the cycle of birth and rebirth, the end of time in which cosmic consciousness recognizes itself and all souls are freed in a state of everlasting happiness and bliss?

Too bad it was spam.

I've been hanging out at my art blog for a while. Just dealing with my art as an obsession for the time being. As with other various obsessions I sometimes have, most other things get neglected. For more than three years I've gone in and out of creative phases. The husband unit and psychiatrist recommend that I find another hobby to get me outside more. I used to enjoy photography, so it's possible I might get back into it, depending on if I want to spend the money on a camera or not, and I will only use Nikon cameras, so I'm quite spoiled. I have a nice Nikon SLR from the 90s but it is a film camera. It's time to have a nice digital camera. I am hopeful that my old auto-focus lenses will work on the new Nikon. I'm thinking about buying the D60 body, I just haven't decided whether or not to buy it with or without the kit lens. I need to dig all my lenses out of the storage bin in the closet to see what I have. Then I'll run to the local camera store to test out the lenses. It's a big investment so I might end-up talking myself out of spending the money, regardless of how many times the husband tries to talk me into it.

It appears that all three people who have taken my "friend test" know me quite well. That's actually very flattering, to know that people have taken the time to get to know me so well. Thanks.

I'll either be here or at my art blog, though chances are I'll be at my art blog. I don't know how long this current obsession will last.

In the sidebar on the top right I've added a fun little quiz for anyone who wants to take it. Do you think you know me? Take the quiz and find out just how well you really know me.

Click on the quiz in the sidebar or go to this link:

http://www.truefriendtest.com/friendtest/1762473

It's 12:46am and I've been all alone since 10:30pm. I'm feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness. My "special friend" hasn't written today and generally my email inbox has been quiet. I've posted several inane comments on a newsgroup but it's like a ghost town, there.

Dammit, I want attention. I seem to feel this loneliness and need for attention most when I'm manic.

I was stroking my ego tonight by searching for links to my online art gallery. (Yes, it's an alternative way for me to get attention.) One webpage had several comments, one of which was, "These visuals almost replicate the effects of cubensis psylocibin or lysergic acid!"

Is that a compliment?

Hehee....

I always thought dreams were short, but tonight I've had a second opinion. I watched my dog running in her sleep for almost two minutes. I was worried at first that she might be having a seizure or something, but when I called her name she stopped.

One of the pleasures of owning dogs is stepping in drool bare-footed.

I'm terribly bored tonight.

I don't care how spectacular Heaven is; It would be lonely without you.

"I see neon lights whenever you walk by. "

"I’m thinking about the fireworks that go off when you smile."

"Once in awhile
Two people meet
Seemingly for no reason
They just pass on the street
Suddenly thunder, showers everywhere
Who can explain the thunder and rain
But there's something in the air"

~Pretenders