Okay, well, as I was cruelly (*sob*) accused (heh) of being an emo girl last night, I thought I'd use today's post to deflate that impression. (Though I also want to point out "emo" didn't used to mean soppy, sad, depressed. It meant something cooler once.)

I realize I talk about serious things on the blog a lot, and I've got a black and red color scheme going on here (mostly because I can't find anyone to design me a new template) but in real life, I'm not all Sturm und Drang at all. If you knew me outside of my writing, which tends to come out more serious and dreamy for some reason, you'd know I don't appear emo and sad all the time. And anyway, trust me, my hourglass body doesn't work with those heroin-chic emo clothes at all, so if the uniform just won't fit...

But I am getting sidetracked. What I'm saying is, I started this blog during a very tumultuous year in my life. Lots of things needed to be worked on and evolved, and during this process I have been struggling and it hasn't always been happy. But the point IS, I'm doing this struggling not to express and revel in how oh-so-hard-life-is, but to actually get myself to happy. That's the goal. In my life, if I have ever had a stage where I am miserable, I have never had the goal to stay in that miserable place. I don't enjoy sadness. And I absolutely can not STAND morose inertia.

If you met me in real life, you'd see my vibe most days actually tends from the playful and laughing to the calm and soothing. I'm rarely walking around looking like the sky is falling. Sure, somedays of late I felt like that and I'm just pretending things are fine. But honestly, given the choice, I will always choose fun and good-craziness and laughter to sad, dramatic, tortured artist commiseration. A little of that goes a long way. And I'd also like to point out that being serious about something is not the same as being miserable about it. Nor that if one takes something seriously, one can't also be silly.

Anyway, I won't say I want to apologize for the blog not reflecting both sides of my personality accurately enough, or that it needs fixing--I just write whatever comes up for me at the time, and it simply is what it is. I tend to write more to help me unknot a problem than I do to just express when there are no problems. But I do hope some hints of the other parts of my personality come through here. And given that I do write whatever I'm thinking about at the time, and today I'm thinking about this topic, it seems this would be an excellent opportunity to write a deliberately positive-themed post.

So, without any further dilly-dallying, here is a spontaneously generated (and probably incomplete) list of things that make me instantly, completely happy. Most of them are things that'll result in a cheese-eating grin I can't wipe off my face, though a few are the kind that produce that glowy, secret inner-smile. If I could have a few of these each day, I would probably never be sad.

Believe it or not, I've been told far and wide that my smile is infectious and one of my greatest features. So, if you want to see it directed at you, do or give me one or more of the items below.

And when you're done reading, please do tell me what some of yours are, or if you share any of mine. Or, make your own list on your own blog, and let me know. It feels good to do. You'll like it. It's a nice alternative to the whole New Year's resolution thing. Don't focus on what you have to fix, but what is right with the world around you, right now, and that you can delight in any old day.

Things That Make Me Smile/Things that Make Me Laugh/Things That Make Me Joyous

Dancing (the kind you do, not watch)

Loud music in dark bars

Getting presents--especially the kind where you can tell the person really thought about who you are

Giving presents...

...And seeing people's faces light up when they open them

Randomly coming across that perfect thing that you didn't even know existed but that absolutely delights you, or that you know will absolutely delight another specific person you want to delight

My nephews whenever they laugh or smile

The ocean

The smell of the beach

Very good wordplay or thoughtplay or sexplay

Someone I like talking dirty to me

Baking...

...And the smell of anything baking

A rainy day, a comfortable bed or couch, a book, and curling up

Unsolicited expressions of affection or caring

Reciprocated expressions of affection or caring

The Onion, most days, when I remember to read it

Seeing someone I care about but haven't seen in a long time finally walking toward me

Seeing someone I care about but haven't seen in the last five minute walk back into the room

Genuine hugs

Being held by someone I love

Laughing so hard with someone over something that every time you stop and look at each other again, you have to crack up again

Being the only one who got the joke

Talking to a good friend for hours and not even noticing the time

Fucking a good friend for hours and not even noticing the time

Trying new food (the stranger, the better)

Traveling new places

Watching a great film

Trees and sunlight and water (the combination of all three is what works)

Smart comedians

The quote, "I used to think that the brain was the most wonderful organ in my body. Then I realized who was telling me this." (Emo Philips)

Coming in after shoveling snow to fresh-off-the-griddle grilled cheese and hot Campbell's tomato soup

Orgasms (the smile happens after it finishes)

Street fairs

Farmer's markets

Kid logic

Writing something that feels whole and complete and good

Rereading something I wrote long after I wrote it and still thinking it's really good

Secret favorite spots

Discovering some funky, new place or thing...

...Sharing it with someone I know will appreciate it

Full-body massages

Back rubs

Foot rubs

Head scratches

Driving long distances with my favorite music blasting on the stereo

Having a moment where I remember to just stop and look at the open sky

Sunlight

Hearing a crowd sing along to a song at an arena concert

Hearing a movie theater full of people all laugh uproariously together or spontaneously break out into applause

The moment of anticipation when the lights dim at the movies or the theater just before something you've been dying to see starts

The smell of piles of leaves in the fall

The smell and exhilaration of feeling that first spring breeze

Seeing the first robin of the season

Geese (not ducks, not swans--just geese)

Baby geese

Unselfconscious eccentrics

People who randomly sing or do something playful or deliberately goofy in public

Resting my head on the shoulder or lap of someone I care about

Walking together, linking arms

Having someone I love unconsciously stroke my hair

The sound of my lover moaning in pleasure

Observing random, unexpected acts of kindness or connection take place

Outside on a cold evening, the smell of a wood-burning fire

Watching a campfire or fire in a fireplace

His mouth

His laugh

Waking up next to him, feeling his body against mine

What are yours?

---

Some days a little thing happens and that's enough.

Today I went to my regular yoga class and for the first time ever, there was a man in attendance. I noticed mostly because when I came in and started setting up, he kept staring at me whenever I walked by like he was looking for some kind of acknowledgment. So when I first came in, I gave him eye contact and a little smile/nod to sort of say, "Hail, stranger," but he didn't smile back, so then I just shrugged it off and let him do his watching thing and I just kept doing my thing till I was all set up.

But here's what. He couldn't have seemed more average. He could have been anywhere from his early 30s to his late 40s; you couldn't really tell. He wasn't noticeably ugly, or beautiful. He wasn't noticeably anything. He had this feel of tired and serious earnestness about him, and that beige, bland air of a government worker. He was tall, and relatively thin, but in every way nondescript, really, a sort of everyman/commuter/middle-class/blank/average/straight-guy feel to him. Nothing to note; just another nondescript person like every other person who usually walks around in the city I live in. I forgot about him as soon as I went to the other side of the room and started working out.

I didn't think of him again until I was done class and could feel him watching me again as I went to put my stuff away. So I turned to look at him out of the corner of my eye as I passed and then I saw it.

He'd been working out barefoot, like the rest of us. And peeping out under the hems of his average-Joe sweats, on his bland, everyman feet...

...full-on, perfect, pedicure-quality toenail polish. A deep, rich, womanly, shade of plum-rose.

It made my day.

---

And, now, here's the Sugasm for this week (I am participating). Have some fun reading the best of this weeks blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #65? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the linklist within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks
Arrogant Penis (http://www.sex-kitten.net)
“When I start to relax, adrift in the warm comfy seas of a powerful orgasm, my body slackening (and lord knows how my face looks), aware of nothing but how fabulous this is and ready to ride the waves into slumber, he doesn’t stop.”

Bewitch Me! (http://perverselypoly.blogspot.com)
“I’m big enough to pin you down while I move my hands up and down the sides of your body, feeling its contours beneath the black fabrics you so favor.”

Unicorn Sighting, Part II (http://loladavid.wordpress.com)
“There was one man in the very front of the theatre who didn’t give a damn who heard him moan as he came.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
The High Definition Porn Problem (http://sugarbank.com)

Editor’s Choice
The Two-Client Day (http://thismuse.blogspot.com)

NSFW Pics (& videos)
Fundoshi and naked Japanese males (http://hothardcock.blogspot.com)
Getting Naked For Justice (http://myhotbox.blogspot.com)
Renee Perez Naked (http://eroticandy.blogspot.com)
You don’t have to be naked… (http://kitchen-girls.blogspot.com)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
10 Reasons Why a Spanking Model is Like a Geisha (but not really) (http://adelehaze.com)
I got this feeling when I heard your name the other day… (http://lustylady.blogspot.com)
Pop Quiz: Dating Myth/Reality (http://sexeteria.net)
Realization (http://thisthingcalledbdsm.blogspot.com)
So Many Sexy Memories (http://totalsensuality.blogspot.com)
Thoughts on virginity (http://deliciously-naughty.typepad.com)

BDSM and Fetish
Demented Game (http://eroticjournals.blogspot.com)
Four poster beds (and one spanked bottom) (http://pandorablake.blogspot.com)
Greta: An Erotic Lingerie Story (http://aslipofagirl.blogspot.com)
Happy HNT - Fetish boots and whip (http://darkside-journey.blogspot.com)
I Had a Dream (http://www.spankingwriters.com/blog)
Meeboguest confesses: “I have been a bad boy” (http://anawtymouz.blogspot.com)
Plotting My Next Tryst Part IV (http://www.taratainton.com)
Realization (http://thisthingcalledbdsm.blogspot.com)
Red Satin Bustier (http://sweatshopsissy.wordpress.com)

Sex News, Reviews and Interviews
Product Review - iBuzz (http://shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com)

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Beautiful Cock (http://lafillemariee.blogspot.com)
Bend Over The Chair Part 2 (http://mandyseroticlife.blogspot.com)
Bewitch Me! (http://perverselypoly.blogspot.com)
Caught in a Dream (http://dirtylittlecockslut.blogspot.com)
Countdown pt. 2 (http://themilfblog.blogspot.com)
Exploring, Experimenting and Losing Control (http://junohenry.wordpress.com)
Forbidden Fruit is in Season (http://sexandtheivy.com)
His Turn Now (Part III)–Driving (http://pick-up-pieces.blogspot.com)
The Itch, Part The Fourth (http://udoj.wordpress.com)
Me, her, and him 5 (http://erotischism.blogspot.com)
Reminiscing (http://edinerotica.blogspot.com)
Squirting like never before (http://plum001.blogspot.com)
Sucking Cock (http://bimale.thumblogger.com)
Unicorn Sighting, Part II (http://loladavid.wordpress.com)

Join the Sugasm

I was going to use this photo to add context to a somewhat serious post I've been struggling to write for a week now. But you know what? I find it's Friday, and the sun is out, and I realize I just don't feel like being serious.

So I'll just put it out there in the spirit of playfulness and attitude with which it was taken.

Which is as it should be. Because all the joy in the world is all about play, ain't it, people?

You know, I just heard an old song on the radio that matched the photo's sentiment exactly. It lifted my heart right up, the singer's rough and ragged voice bragging to the world that hell, it ain't no sin to be glad you're alive.

Too fucking right. I'm not ashamed to be glad. Don't you be, either.

Gladness. You can feel it. Take in as much as you fucking can, till you think you can't take in any more. And then take in more. Because you can.

Yes. I do believe in the hope, and that it may raise each and every one of us above the badlands.

Happy weekend, my darlings. And a big, lusty tongue kiss to each and every one of you.

---

And because I love encores, and because it's about to be the weekend, and because I wish you were here to play with me, and because you can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can't take the Jersey out of the girl:

Happy weekend song #2

Well let there be sunlight, let there be rain
Let the brokenhearted love again
We can run with our arms open wide before the tide

Happy weekend song #3:

Baby, out in the street I don't feel sad or blue
Baby, out in the street I'll be waiting for you

Meet me out in the street
Meet me out in the street

Some things stay exactly the same, no matter how long ago they were new.

This song still has the ability to make me smile and start dancing like a little kid all around the house. It's so sweetly romantic in lyric and plinky-boppy in synth, it should be too tacky for words. But it's not. It's pure and simple every time.

Come over and dance with me? That would be even more perfect and happy.

Today, I realized, is the two-year anniversary of this blog. I suppose I should have prepared for it ahead of time so that I had something eloquent and thought-provoking to share. As it is, I've been laid low with the flu for a few days and the date barely registered until it was almost over. I will try to break through my medicinal haze to say something, at least. And I hope it will make sense. I'll let you be the judge, as I'm far too foggy right now.

A lot has gone on for me since I started this blog. Year one started with me being completely oblivious to why I really started the blog, thinking I was "just" going to create a forum for discussions about sexuality. By the end of that year, it had become a lot more than that for me, and the posts became not only about sex, but also about a number of different topics. The writing had become highly personal and confessional in nature, compared to my original intent. By the very end of 2006, I had divulged just about everything I'd ever been ashamed to tell anyone in this blog, and had also begun to do so in my outside life. It was a huge transition for me, and it was a difficult road to climb. There were times I thought I'd never see the light of day; I feared at points that I'd destroy myself in the effort I was making to heal and care for myself. But I kept going, and in the end, despite how scary it was to go through all of that, it was worth it.

And, by doing all that, when January 2007 rolled around, I was beginning to see the proverbial light at the end. I started the year out with a list of demands for what I wanted from that year. And I named it "Start Wearing Purple for me NOW, 2007," in tribute to a song by a band I'd become enamored of--a song that embodied the spirit of how I wanted to feel that year. At the time, that feeling seemed like a hopeful dream, but I hadn't felt it yet.

This New Year's Eve, I travelled to another city to see that band play,* and I met them. I hung out backstage with a bunch of interesting strangers, and they were interested in talking to me. And I felt like I was home. Not necessarily home because I was in some VIP area; home because I could go out and talk to strangers and not feel self-conscious. Home because I could enjoy myself without worrying that someone would think I wasn't worthwhile, or was too boring, or not a glamorous enough body type. Home because I was surrounded by smart, creative people who were not sad and dark; who were instead alive and energized. And still fucking cool. Home because I could have fun in the moment, and even decide to NOT do everything that was offered to me, and still feel happy and secure with my choices. Home because all I was was happy and laughing and enjoying the company of other people and of good music, and not thinking or worrying about anything else. Happy because I was being myself and only myself, and I was, finally, once again, glad to be her.

For me, that says a lot about what went right in 2007. It's been a slow and steady progress, but it's brought me to a place worlds away from where I was when I wrote my first post in 2006. Because while that "virgin post" in 2006 had a playful, cheerful tone, I was far from that. That was me, feeling very alone and very lost and dark, but putting on the "I'm just fine" mask I'd put on for the world for decades.

In January 2006, I wasn't cheerful, I wasn't playful. I was pretending. But at the moment when 2007 crossed into 2008, I was cheerful and playful, for real. And let me tell you, those two states of being feel worlds apart. There's no comparison. At all.

I'm not wearing the mask for the world anymore. In fact, the only articles of dress I'll be putting on from here on out will be strictly for my own pleasure. And I intend to not cover up very much. I'm not afraid anymore to show myself. I can actually wear purple now, literally and figuratively, and not even be that afraid of the attention I may get for it.

Yes, there's still work to be done. Yes, there's still road left to travel. But I've traveled a long way, and it looks like the gypsy caravan just pulled up to gave me a lift. I'm looking for a fun, weird, creative, inspirational, musical, wonder-full ride in 2008. I wish the same for all of you.

As for the blog and its anniversary, I'm not sure I ever imagined I'd still be doing it two years in. In the last few months, I've thought of ending it altogether. I've thought of renaming it. Of starting fresh with a new blog. Of just changing the look. Of not changing anything and just posting irregularly. Of trying to post regularly again. I've come to no decisions. So. We shall see. But one thing's for sure: whatever I decide, you've not heard the last of me.

---
*To get a sense of the transformative, transcendent, fuckin' rock-n-roll supertaranta gypsy punk party party afterparty experience that is Gogol Bordello live, check out this review of a live show. It's not from the show I went to, but it's like that at every show. Best attempt I've seen to capture the experience in words. Go see them live. You will never be sorry.

photo credit: Dansu Dansu Dansu by said&done

When I was younger
I lived in fear
That incarceration of some kind is near
I checked my head in tact with rules
I nearly became
A goddamn fool
But I heard voices--not in the head
Out in the air
They called ahead
Through ripped out speakers
Through thick and thin
They found a shelter
Under my skin

I was an...interesting...child. I initially wanted to say "unusual," but I'm not sure if what I'm about to say is unusual or not. Certainly I've never heard anyone talk about it except for, say, religious mystics and occasionally someone like Eugene Hütz up above in those lyrics there. It is possible, though, if these people have mentioned it, that this is a common experience but no one talks about it. Or it may be in fact somewhat unusual. Regardless, let me get there already.

I've told many of what used to be my secrets in this blog, but this is one I have rarely confided to another person, and of the very few I've mentioned it to, I don't think I've ever mentioned the full breadth of it. I used to keep it to myself for fear it would be misunderstood or ridiculed or attempted to be over analyzed and explained away with logic or psychology, but now, today, I find I just don't care.

So. When I was younger, I was an interesting child. Just walking around in the world--and especially when I was on my own--I could hear and converse with things things most people don't think talk. Trees, for instance. Or the ocean. Or voices of people who weren't there. And I could have entire conversations with these things, if I was in the mood and if conditions were right.

I'm not talking here about schizophrenia. These things didn't tell me what to do or try to control my psyche. They weren't scary, angry, or destructive. And they didn't in any way take over my personality. Just the opposite--they were quite separate from me; they had nothing to do with me, and yet, I was aware in some way they were also a part of me, in that I was a conduit for them. I knew only I could hear them, and I knew others couldn't. Like Hütz says, not voices in my head, but out in the air. I heard them "in my head" the same way you would hear voices "in your head" if I were standing next to you and speaking and you heard the sound of my voice in your head. I processed them like speech, so they were in my head, but they weren't OF me, exactly--though, I guess I understood that without me they wouldn't be heard, sort of like that tree falling in the forest Zen koan. And I guess, thinking about it more, I also understood on some natural level, just by the fact of the way these voices transmitted, that everything IS "of" everything else--so in this way, of course, these voices were me and "of" me, at the same time they were also not. This probably sounds confusing, but that's the best I can do to explain it.

They also weren't voices like normal voices, exactly; particularly not the nature-based ones. Trees and water don't speak with human voices. Which makes perfect sense if you think about it. (And by the way, I don't necessarily think this is a "special skill,"--I maintain anyone can hear and speak with these things, if they want to; and if they listen carefully enough. The only perhaps special part of my story is that I happened to be able to connect to it without trying much. Which I'd described more accurately as "lucky" than "special.")

The more "human"-like voices--the ones I can best describe as seeming like invisible individuals (although that's not entirely accurate--I didn't and don't think they were human) were always to me the voices of friendly companions. They just showed up sometimes; for instance, to keep me company when I was walking home from school, or when I was thinking through a particularly knotty problem, or when they wanted to point out and share something particularly cool that was worth absorbing that I might not have focused on on my own. But sometimes they just showed up for the hell of it, just to say hi and just hang out and joke around and chat and...be cheerful and encouraging, I guess.

And that's what they were at almost all points, whether the human voices, or the nature voices; they were calm, open, supportive, inclusive, familiar. Most spoke to me like they'd known me a long time already; sometimes the human-like voices in particular took on tones that felt as if they considered themselves like affectionate aunts, or friends, or even occasionally a former lover from another life (by that I don't mean sexual, just casually affectionate in the special somewhat-romantic-tinged way an old-lover-turned-friend tends to be). Actually, I suppose some of the nature voices weren't always quite as casual. Trees, for instance, tended to be somewhat formal initially, in a "pleased to make your acquaintance, small thing from another species" kind of way, but even they still had that sense of familiarity and connectedness--as if they recognized the ability to exchange and it was no real surprise to them. In any case, they were all positive and I was glad to communicate with them.

It didn't happen all the time, every minute, by the way. It's not like every time I walked by a tree I could hear it talking or that all of nature or invisible voices were randomly screaming out at me at all times. Not at all. But if I took the time to slow down and WANT to talk to it, or to just to listen or happen to be quieter, I could. And when it did happen, it was a very quiet, calm experience, like passing a neighbor or friend on the street. An exchange was had and recognized and then we both moved on to do whatever it was we were there to do in life.

As a little kid, this was quite natural to me and I never thought anything about it. I never mentioned it to anyone else, but I don't think this was because I thought I had to keep it secret; it just seemed beside the point, and not important to bring up. As I got older, though, I began to realize other people thought that kind of stuff was weird. Talking or showing respect to trees like they were neighbors (or even, in the case of forests, like they were inhabitants of their own special "kingdom" that I just got the privilege to visit)? Uh, no, other kids didn't do that. And as I got older and the voices moved from just natural-based things to more...what...spiritual?...I don't like that word, but whatever the human voices were...I realized this was something that--though again it felt fine and natural to me--other people were not going to get, and might be alarmed by. So I did become conscious that it was better not to mention it to others. But given I'd never felt any need to share these experiences with other people--it had never occurred to me before I realized other people didn't hear this stuff to care if they could, or to try to bring someone else into these conversations---I decided to be, as before, just happy to experience them whenever I did and then just move on with my life as normal the way I would if I met any old person or friend on the street.

So I went along just quietly enjoying the company of this special gift I had. And I did think of it as that sometimes, a gift--particularly when it came to the nature-based stuff, which I could tell most people didn't easily experience. But then, as I closed in on my teenange years, I started to get concerned. At that time, I tended to have one particular voice companion more often than the others, and I was used to him, and I somehow decided that having these conversations, or this connection to other worlds or whatever it was, was going to be problematic for me as I grew into an adult. I also remember worrying for some reason that it would be hard to have boyfriends as long as this one particular "companion" was hanging around. I don't even know why--there was no connection to real life dating or romance in the conversations. But I suppose I was concerned the affection I felt in that "relationship," which was sort of a Buddhist-type divine, universal, limitless love sort of thing, wouldn't ever allow real-life love to measure up. And so I reasoned that if I wanted to have real, human love in the corporeal world, I needed all of this go. Let go of both the feeling of "other worldly" beings following me, offering me love and support, and of the natural world talking to me, connecting with me. I felt I needed it all gone to become the kind of "normal" that was necessary to succeed in the somewhat dry, rules-bound adult world I was destined to have to live in. That world didn't have time or patience for adults who had "fairy-tale" conversations with rocks and streams.

How many darkest moments and traps
Still lay ahead of us
How many final frontiers
We gonna mount
And maybe no victory laps

So, I had one last conversation. And I told my current most frequent "companion" voice that I needed him to go. That I needed it all to go, that I needed to just be a normal girl now, like everyone else. And he was very compassionate about it, if a little sad, and then...he left. Poof, just like that. It all left. And though I felt the absence from time to time--it was WEIRD to look at the world and not hear it talking back--I convinced myself it was the best thing and I moved forward into teen and adult life like a normal girl. Because--from limited view of adulthood garnered in the suburbs--well, voices, they weren't part of the rules of growing up. Adults didn't talk to the ocean. And they definitely didn't hear disembodied voices (if they didn't want to end up in the nuthouse).

I guess I don't want to judge the choice I made back then. I don't want to say it wasn't all for the best. Because at the time, it was what I needed; so it's what was meant to be. But I do think in making that choice/request, I chose to cut off something that was a vital piece of who I was. And with it, other vital connections to myself and the world around me might have gotten lost for a good long time.

At some point in my late thirties, I thought better of my choice to tell it all to go away. And I tried to bring it all back and found I couldn't. I'd look at a tree and feel...nothing. Almost less than nothing. I felt blocked. And it felt like I'd blown it; like I'd had one special chance and I'd thrown it away. I'd been given a gift and I chose to return it, and now it wasn't up for offer anymore. But there was nothing to be done about it, so I became resigned to the fact it was gone.

But if you stepped on path of sacred art
and stuck it out through thick and thin
God knows you become one
With undestructable

Around that time is when the beginnings of a pretty deep depressive period began to set in (seemingly unrelated to me at that time). It started small, grew slowly and steadily bigger and lasted and worsened for many years, until I could no longer bear it and sought out help. And this resulted in my finally realizing that for these and many more years the self I thought defined who I was wasn't a self at all, but an amalgam of the selves I thought other people thought a self should be for a girl like me.

And it's been a slow journey towards first realizing that, and now it feels like a slow journey towards deconstructing the false selves and finding out the true core that's been buried underneath. But I think the voices may be part of what's underneath.

I say this because I stayed home from work today. And after an inexplicable episode of joyful laughter that took over me this morning from the moment I looked in the mirror and said good morning to myself, I went and took a walk along the river in the sunlight of almost-spring. And I turned off my iPod and just listened. And the trees and water started talking to me. For the first time in such a long time.

And I think...no, I feel...this is a very good sign.

And so no longer live I in fear
Them are too greedy to pay my asylum bills
This is my life
And freedom's my profession
This is my mission throughout all flight duration
There is a core
And it's hardcore
All is hardcore when made with love
The love is voice of savage soul
This savage love is
Undestructable

I've been...just really happy lately.

It feels an odd thing to say. But it's true. And I find I'm also less and less afraid that claiming it will "curse" it and make it go away. I don't feel afraid to say it anymore. This also feels very strange to say.

But it's true. It came on slowly at first; just a little twinge here or there. But in the last two weeks, it's been almost constant. Just feeling good, feeling at one with the world--or maybe it's feeling as one in myself and being completely cool with that--even when the world is off kilter around me. Even feeling joyful sometimes; having moments when my heart feels ready to burst out in blooms like all the trees I see around me and I just can't stop smiling or singing to myself or communicating with trees.

This is not something I'm used to.

I think maybe I haven't written about this feeling as it's come over me much because; well, one, I've been busy with a new job I started recently, and two, I think I felt afraid that if I said it, it would sound like bragging or smugness or rubbing it in others' faces or possibly that I was being inauthentic...like I was trying to prove something (""Look!!! Look how happy I am!!! Really!!!! Really!!!!")--like I'd appear as if I were trying to convince myself and others of it.

But it's not about that. And it suddenly occurred to me tonight how entirely ridiculous it is that I saw absolutely no dangers of inauthenticity, bragging, etc. in writing repeatedly about unhappiness when it hit me. So why should this be any different?

Anyway, what's happened to me lately...it's really odd. It's like this kind of letting go. I can't explain it because it's almost a physical thing; as if a really heavy layer of something has been lifted off me, and I'm just walking around lighter than before. But it's not exactly physical. It is as though I've finally lost something, though, something that has been some kind of invisible albatross for many years. The strange thing is, I don't even know what the albatross WAS; I never got to see it. It just, through small tiny baby steps of work, seems to have just lifted, and I'm just...different. Things seem easier; and I seem less impacted by the small everyday things that used to get me spiraling into negativity.

And it seems that along with this is this fresh, slowly burgeoning change in how I sense myself in the world. I just wrote that and realized I'd said "sense myself" instead of "see myself," which is the familiar phrase. And now I realize that is exactly it! There's this shift from seeing myself to just sensing myself. This move from a staunch stance of "I think, therefore I am," to "I am, therefore I am."

Am I making sense to anyone out there? I think what this means is I'm losing my self-consciousness. Which is SUCH a relief. But even more than that--or maybe it's the same...what I'm trying to say here...and this is so new and confusing....

What I'm trying to say is that...well, for most of my life, I've created my identity (and others' identities, come to think of it) from identifiers--which are, of course, mental constructs. I thought that thoughts--mine and others' about me (by either agreement with or reacting against them)--were what made me me. Like this:

What do I believe in? The answer to that defines who I am; I am what I believe.
What do I know? The answer is who I am
What is my cultural identity? This is who I am.
How much more do I know than others? This is who I am.
How well do I fit the requirements for the labels of "cool," "smart," "pretty," "sexy," "talented," etc.? This is who I am.

Actually, these ALL boil down to the first statement: What do I believe in? This is who I am. Because all of the others in their way are beliefs about myself that I invent for myself.

And this has led to inordinate anger, frustration, and fear when I'm confronted with others whose opinions butt up significantly and forcefully against my own. I've been in therapy for a few years now; and the whole time I've never really been able to grasp how one can believe strongly in something (say, for instance, that racism is awful and destructive) and while holding that belief strongly, at the same time be okay with the fact that others don't.

I think this was because those beliefs were who told myself I was. I made those beliefs my identity. So someone opposing that belief was, on some level, threatening my right to exist.

I've been living so much in my head. And my head created labels for everything: for myself and others. I was alternative. That person was mainstream. This other person: materialistic. Me: stubborn. That person: racist. Me: creative. On and on and on. All these one-word stories for myself and everyone; all generated by me, all designed to keep my thoughts protected and safe from encroachment of others. Interestingly, I had both a great anger for/resistance to labels and "grades"--and yet such a great need for them, too. In fact, I made my resistance of them part of my so-called identity.

I'm getting off track. I'm sorry this post is so loose--I'm free-forming here.

The point is, this shift I was talking about earlier, and the happiness and lightness...it seems to be about losing all that. About getting out of my head--"losing my mind," if you will. About realizing none of that shit matters; that none of that stuff, none of my thoughts or ideas or beliefs, none of those identifiers define me. That I'm just ME. That's it. That's all it has to be about.

Moving away from thought and into this greater...sense of being. This is what feels lighter. And, by the way, this doesn't mean I think thinking or intelligence is useless. Far from it. It's useful; but it's just a THING--not THE thing.

You know, all this time as I've been healing, I've been trying so hard to figure out--now that I've had to let go of so many old, negative patterns of self-definition--what the new way to define myself will be. I kept thinking, "Okay, but what will I BE now? I'm emptying out of stuff, but what will I fill up with? Who can I say I am now, if I'm not any of those things anymore? I need to find an answer before it's too late!"

And damn if it hasn't turned out that the answer is I'm not anything.

And this...it turns out...is everything.

I'm not anything. I just am.

I'm not anything. It's possibly the one phrase that has scared me the most all these years--the one thing I was most terrified to be identified with; to believe about myself. The thing I've worked consistently to avoid anyone thinking about me.

Who knew in the end that it would be the source of all empowerment?

I am staggered by this.

Given that I've often been accused of being obsessive about music, it may come as a surprise that I've always been somewhat ambivalent about going to live shows.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing a band I love in concert. And sometimes discovering a new band can be fun, too. But so often the shows are just...well, so-so. Factors conspire to make the experience less than transformative. Sometimes the sound sucks, or the band's not as good live as they are recorded, and I am disappointed and either left questioning my former belief in their talent or wondering why I didn't just stay home and listen to the CD. Or, on the opposite end of the scale, sometimes the sound is TOO perfect--SO perfect, in fact, that it sounds JUST like the CD, with no particular flair to make the performance feel live or interesting. And in those instances, too, I wonder why I didn't just stay home and listen to the CD.

Or sometimes the band seems to be going through the motions, and not caring much. I've seen some bands who make Disney animatrons look lively. Alternately, sometimes they're wasted and stumbling all over the place, which is amusing for a short while and then just gets really annoying when they can't remember how to play their instruments and nod off and end the show after 30 minutes. Sometimes it's the audience who's way too wasted and ruins an otherwise brilliant show by drunkenly shouting out stupid things at every opportunity or not knowing the difference between drunken brutality vs. actual moshing. And of course, seeing new bands I've never heard before is always a crap shoot and nine times out of ten I wonder if I might not have done better to have just stayed home and saved my money for, like...rent or something.

But sometimes, there are these incredible live music moments. Sometimes, everything comes together in this unspeakably perfect way. And then I remember why I don't entirely give up on going to shows.

I had one such experience a few days ago. A friend invited me to go see the band Elbow play live. I'd never heard of them before. Despite me being the music geek I am, and despite them having put out quite a few CDs already, they'd completely missed my radar. But after quickly checking out their website and MySpace page and listening to a few clips, I enthusiastically agreed to go. Something about their music grabbed me right away, and despite my wariness these days (based on the factors mentioned above) about paying to see bands I know nothing about, on hearing them I instantly thought "this is a band to see." I'm not even sure why, but that was the immediate gut response.

They always say you should follow your gut, and it turns out "they" are still damn well right. Because this show was easily one of the best and most remarkable live performances I've had the pleasure of seeing in a long while.

There were a number of factors that came together to make this so. First off, it turned out the show was being held in a historic synagogue right in the heart of the city I live in. A place I may have passed by dozens of times and yet have never noticed--and certainly didn't know showcased live bands. So that was the first surprise. We walked in, and were greeted with a completely gorgeous interior. A relatively intimate performance space, with beautiful antique wooden pews, carved with smooth, curved backs which were incredibly comfortable to sit in. Candelabras along the walls. Elaborate stained glass windows. And a stunning domed ceiling, painted with an intricate gold-leaf pattern and looking like a giant, semitic Fabergé egg. Just look at the photo to the right. That's what we sat under all night, evening light shimmering through the stained glass windows surrounding it, making it glow above us when the lights went low for the show. How can one not be moved to the expectancy of something great when sitting under a ceiling like that?

Even before the band started, it was clear the acoustics were going to be marvellous and that environs had an affect on the crowd. We could hear our voices amplified by the shape of the building in a way that foretold good things for a band being able to play. And have you ever noticed how when one walks into a beautiful place, one is naturally awed by it and wants to be beautiful IN it? Your behavior changes; you grow happier, more careful in how you treat yourself and others. You try to drink it all in and you look at your neighbors, both of you wide-eyed and say, "Isn't this amazing?" And then you smile and feel lucky. You don't want to let that feeling go. That's what it was like.

This, I believe, was amplified by the fact that there was no alcohol available. I didn't think of it until afterward, but I think it may possibly be the first show I've ever seen where no one was drinking and where I hadn't had at least one drink. I tend to associate shows with alcohol--whether I'm drinking or it's just the smell of it all around me. None of that here. Everyone was completely sober and AWAKE; and I think this lent to wanting to keep the respectful feeling of the beauty of the space going and the whole "love thy neighbor" vibe that was going on. Plus, it let all of us REALLY HEAR the music. It was such an unusual thing, experiencing a band with a crowd that was completely unaltered. People seemed far more riveted and connected to the performance and each other. It was truly spectacular. And all this time I thought alcohol contributed to a live experience--that it wasn't rock 'n' roll without the sex and drugs aspect. So much for that fallacy.

And yet, despite the more formal decorations around us, and the lack of a dive bar atmosphere, the crowd was incredibly charged. In fact, perhaps even more charged than normal, because everything was so different and special. You could feel how special everyone thought it was, just in the air. And the feeling certainly charged the band, too. From the moment the lights came down and they were able to walk THROUGH the waiting crowd, in between the pews and toward the stage, carrying horns in arms stretched high, and then stand in a line across the stage, blowing a huge cacophony of Wall-of-Jerhico sound over the backing track belting out over the speakers, the whole performance just seemed otherworldly in its perfection. The music was flawless, a wailing wall of swirling sound--sometimes painfully yearning, sometimes heartburstingly joyous, sometimes both together. There was guitar and bass and drums and hard on male rock 'n' roll attitude, but also backing tracks and live electric violins and female backing harmonies.

And the lead singer. Oh. Between his charming gift of comfortable gab with the audience, his somewhat rough-around-the-edges Irish-English workman's face and burly body, and the unexpectedly beautiful, melodic voice that came out of it--well, I have to admit, for all my jaded history with musicians, I might have fallen just a little bit in love with him. He was just that good. By the end of the show, when he asked us to sing along with him to what may well be one of the most beautiful, simple, joyous songs ever written about waking up next to someone and suddenly realizing that you're falling in love, even shy little me, with my cynical resistance to crowd mentality, was belting out the song with all my heart and soul with everyone else around me. And it felt goooood.

And that is how it is with a show like that. I stood there, falling in love with that band I'd never even heard of four days before.

I stood there, full of first-hand knowledge that, behind the lights and the swells of sound, this world of touring bands is, on paper, not much more than cigarettes and drink and addictions and long drives and boredom and bad food and schedules, schedules, schedules and arguments with industry stooges and each other, and a never-ending stream of anonymous, brief, disconnected meetings with people you may never see again, all of whom want something from you that you are too damn tired to give.

I stood there, knowing all that, and falling in love with the world of rock 'n' roll anyway. Getting drawn in, drawn closer, feeling heaven, saying, Yes, yes, I want that.

And that is why I don't stop seeing live shows.

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A few videos below from Elbow to whet your appetite. It frustrates me to give you these, though, because they can't even remotely capture the feel or sound of their performance. This band is very good on CD, but they are, I think, one of those rare bands that's far, far better live than they even are recorded. Usually it's the opposite, so this is a rare thing. Go see them on tour if you can.

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Guy Garvey photo courtesy of Glynis_F. All other photos copyright Sexeteria.