Monthly Archives: April 2008

William Shatner’s an actor, and I love William Shatner, so I guess I’m okay

Exhibit A: Captain Kirk faces God in Star Trek V: The Final Frontier

I live my life as if on stage. It’s not a fault, and it’s not bad. But it’s not helpful, since my credo is to live truth (bugger off, inner critic). I catch a glimpse of myself sometimes, and I see an actress, someone just above the surface of emotions, pretending to be real. Honestly, I don’t hate myself for it, because I see where it came from, and how wired into me it is. I’m a survivor. It’s part of how I survived. It’s a survival act.

How much of my day to day is a survivor act? It recently occurred to me that I’d like to meet the real me. How many layers would I have to peel off to get to the simply-clad real, the Blue who looks at the world without all the exhausting, painful muscle tension, the physical manifestation of inner guardedness? What would I look like without the security-attachment to pain and injury, without false bravado and put-on superiority?

When I think about that simply real Blue, I have an image. It’s me with layers taken off me. I’m dressed in earth tones, simple natural fabric, on the slightly feminine side of androgynous. Haircut doesn’t even register. The rings made for me by my friend Diane clink against my wedding ring. I’m not smiling or frowning. There’s no clenching of muscles, no protective muscular shell around my heart. I’m sitting cross legged, hands folded in my lap. I’m looking back at me. It’s an invitation, in that simple, uncomplicated gaze. Do I want to strip down the layers I’ve built up, the things that have made me “interesting”, the leather, the hair dye, the personality traits I’ve built onto myself, the survival act? Is that all really survival act, or are there in those years of layers any real valid colors on my palette of self?

I’m not throwing away the hair dye. But I think I’ll go buy a hemp outfit.

So why the weird, unrelated title and photo? Underneath the urban dyke trappings I am actually a five-star geek. These thoughts reminded me of Star Trek V, in which Spock’s half brother Sybok (ohmygodI’mageek) goes around revealing to people their deepest trauma, thereby taking away their pain, stripping them of their superficial layers and returning them to their truest nature. (Somehow, by doing this, he is able to then control their minds to carry out his insane plan to meet God at the center of the universe, who turns out to be a big fake, but I digress.) So he does it to all the crew, until only Captain Kirk is left. Kirk refuses to have his pain removed from him. I can’t remember the quote (OK, I’m not that big a geek), but basically he refuses because his pain is HIS. It makes him who he is, Captain James T. Kirk, faults and all.

I love that man.


Enlightenment on a Flashcard


I’ve removed links to blogs that are inactive, require passwords to view, are not blogs, or are by people who can’t stand the sight of me. Please don’t take it personally; I’m just simplifying for the sake of my readers. If you want back on, just let me know and we can talk about it.


In other news, I got a massage job! Sure, it’s one of those fast-food-massage chains, and after taxes I make something like $14/massage, but still. I went out there, gave the guy a massage, and he hired me, just like that. Stay tuned while I bombard Austin, TX establishments with resumes – I’m still fishing for that elusive Great Job.

So now I have three jobs, and I’m in school for three more weeks. Hopefully I’ll be able to simplify in a month or two.

Speaking of school, we are being made to study chakras. I thought I could get away with doodling in my notebook during Chakra Class. After all, I’m here to study massage, not energy models. I’ve got my own belief in how energies work, and also, who the hell cares? Give me petrissage, give me effleurage, give me sports massage! I just DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT CHAKRAS.

[Important Note: I don’t think people who believe in chakras are stupid.]

Tonight we’re being tested on our knowledge of clinical massage. Injury and tension patterns, tendinitis, carpal tunnel, that sort of thing, and what treatment protocols to follow. Would you believe they’re throwing in an essay question about chakras? A freakin’ entire essay question! Being a non-believer in the chakra model, I am righteously indignant and mildly-to-moderately pissed. However, I’ve got to pass the damn test. So here, for your viewing enjoyment, is my flashcard on chakras.
I hope you feel enlightened.


Four years ago, when you were a tiny little sprout in my tummy, I grew something to keep you company, to feed you and help you grow strong.

Mommy helped grow it too, by making sure I got good food and lots of water in my body, by helping to keep me healthy and safe.

On the day you were born, our placenta was born, too.

I didn’t get to see it then. It was wrapped up, and put away for us in the back of the freezer. I haven’t ever looked at it until today, with you.

I see beautiful veins, and blood melting into a pool all around. Here’s the umbilical cord that connected us to each other.

Here in the ground, it’ll go back to the earth.

It will feed the roots of our live oak tree

that has stayed strong and sturdy outside your window, from the day of your birth

until now. We’re giving our placenta to this oak tree, in thanks for standing guard that day

and all the days that have followed.

Happy birthday, my sweet love.

Things To Be Afraid Of

This is a Texas Giant Centipede. Also known as the Texas Giant Red Centipede, the Giant Desert Centipede, or, for variation, the Texas Giant Redheaded Centipede. Endowed with many creepy legs, spooky curly antennae, fangs that inject a painful poison, and a mean, cold glint in its eyes.

This is me, courageously carrying away the 6-inch Texas Red Centipede we found on the Zilker Playground (I repeat: Playground)

See it tickle my arm hair!

Okay, that’s a photo of some internet guy, and I didn’t bravely grab up the beast, gritting my teeth against the sharp lightning stings to spare the children. Technically, I scooted it with a stick as far away as I could. But I did have bare feet.

Thought of the Day: We can move away now.

1 Cancelled Trip, and 3 Very Random Photos

We never did make it to Louisville.

If the airline had wanted us to get sucked into tornadoes in Atlanta, we might have gone. But they decided that might not maybe be such a good idea.

So instead, we get to hang out with my mother and her sister, my godmother, Rocky’s Auntie Grandma. And here we are, me, Mom and Rocky, dancing our buns off in the courtyard at Guero’s. I can dance again!

Here’s Rocky post game day. Hook ’em in style, Rocky.
And this . . . is Pancake Man.