Comfort…

I need to be in a place of comfort. If that be a space, a relationship, clothing and shoes, hobbies, when I sleep,  all things.

Now having said that, I do a lot of activities in the confines of my home. I dress for comfort. When I am working in my work room, honestly it is very scant. I am there in usually a tee shirt, underwear and my apron.

When I am writing, it kind of depends on what I am writing. I am trying to be tactful here so I am not going to go into much detail. Let’s just say I dress for the part.

It is part of my creative process. I need to feel what it would feel like to actually feel the part that I am writing about. It is something that makes me feel ummmm, desirable which is good when I am writing about my desires.

When I am making jewelry, I don’t worry about how I look, I wear the afore mention workroom clothing. When I am trying to promote my product, I want to look like a business woman. When I am photographing an event, I dress differently than when I am doing nature photography. When I am hiking different clothing and shoes. When I go to work the uniform. To church, dresses or skirts.

I just want to feel comfortable in what I wear, how may hair looks; currently, it has blue highlights. I have mermaid hair.

I don’t wear any of this for anyone else. I change my hair, put on makeup, dress as I wish because it makes me feel good. When I feel good, apparently it is obvious. People notice and I’m not looking to get noticed. I was actually told the other day by someone that they were watching me. Not sure what they meant by it, didn’t ask. I don’t really care anymore who is looking or watching. I am gonna do me. Blue hair and all.

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The Nights Get Long….

Today is my “day off”. I say that because I work night shift.

I have to stay awake until morning so I can sleep tomorrow.

I have “The Big Bang Theory” playing in the room I am in. I occasionally laugh at something Sheldon says, simply because.

It is thundering in a distance and  the rain comes in bands pounding the side of the house.

I am working on jewelry, it is work on a piece and wait, repeating the same process yet not exactly getting the results I want.

I write in my journal about the day spent with him. That person who makes me so very happy.

I read a book on how to journal differently, he found it at a used book store we went to today.

I think about a conversation with a friend last evening. My snarky little brother figure. He is dealing with some things right now and I say a prayer that he will feel better soon.

I think about my family and friends who are dealing with things in their lives. Another prayer goes up.

I let my mind wander some miles away where the person who holds my heart is sleeping. I imagine him sleeping in his bed. His mind and body relaxing from the projects he is working on, hoping some of the ideas we batted around today add to what he is doing. I want to help him as much as he has helped me.

I wonder if he lays there thinking about me. I wonder if he feels the same way about me as I feel about him. I am more verbal in my feelings, I choke on them if I don’t. I always said I would have no regrets. I don’t want to leave this earth with him wondering if I truly love him, because I do oh so much. I let my mind wander to other things as well, I am human after all.

I am half way through the night. I need to make it just a little longer then sleep can come so my mind and body can prepare for the long weekend ahead of me.

I guess you could say at nights I feel lonely. While everyone I know sleeps, I bowl against people around the globe; someone some where is awake. It might be one of you for all I know.

If it is, thanks for being awake.

A Trip Into Fantasy Part 3…

When she looked up into his eyes, she saw the man she loved more than she had ever loved anyone holding her in her moment of struggle. He saw this fragile thing that held both fear and embarrassment in her eyes.

She neither need to fear him or be embarrassed. He cared for her more than she knew and more than  he would admit.

She righted herself mumbled that she was sorry and ran out into the night. She peeled off the mask and cast it aside. She just could not make herself go back inside, she could not go home for mother would make her attempt this feat again.

She sat on the side of the river bank and began to cry. What was wrong with her?

She was eating herself up inside thinking she was backward and unlovable.

She had loved before but that was so long ago. She had been hurt and betrayed since that time and now she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

She often made the mistake of comparing herself to the other girls of the village. Having never been out of the village and seeing the bigger world, it was all she knew.

She felt she would never be good enough for him to love her. He had been places. He had seen things . He had know many other women and yet here she was hoping  in some way he would see her as someone who was worth the effort of loving.

As she buried her face in her lap, she felt a sob welling up inside her. She wanted to run again but she had no where else to go so she sat with plump tears escaping her soul and rolling down her cheeks.

She felt a scream building up deep within her but she couldn’t scream here in the middle of the village unless she wanted more people standing and staring at her.

So she just sat on the riverbank hugging her knees close to her chest and crying into her lap.

Suddenly from no where she felt a cloak drape over her. Looking up startled, she saw him. He looked so tall, standing up right, from her seated position. He looked like a Greek God standing over her. She smiled slightly through her tears.

He reached to help her up off the ground and she shook her head no, he then, sat down beside her.

If she wouldn’t go with him, he would sit with her.

As he settled himself beside her, he nudged her with his elbow, hoping to make her smile. She did. He asked her if she wanted to talk about her feelings with him. She chose to talk about everything else.

He knew she was trying to avoid saying what was holding her back from being among the people of the village. She just couldn’t be among those who saw her as less than because of her past. She was always the ugly duckling when she was in school and people were unkind.  They said things to her that she would never forget.

Now she was expected to walk into a room with these people and she just couldn’t do it. The ugly duckling was still buried deep inside her. She tried to explain it to him not sure if someone as secure as he was would understand.

They sat and talked for hours about her hunts and his inventions. They talked about  life. At one point, he pulled a sweet out of his pocket and they shared that. Dropping some of it down the bodice of her dress, she dared not reach for it. They hours passed swiftly. Before she knew it she heard some of the people from the ball walking up the dusty road. She must pull herself away from the lovely conversation they were having and go home.

She stood and dusted off the back of her dress. She was fulfilled and yet she wanted to reach out and hug and kiss him good night but could not find the courage to do so. She bid him a good night and joined the group of walkers.

As she and her sister entered their modest home, their parents asked them if they had a good time. They both said that they did. Her sister started to speak but the young woman began to push her up the stairs, pointing out that they needed to get out of their good dresses. She didn’t need to be tattled on tonight for she had most assuredly had a lovely evening, one of the best nights she could have.

She wished to etch it into her mind and her heart for all eternity.

As they went up the stairs, their mother heard the girls giggle, as she turned to look at them, she saw the dust on the back of her eldest daughters dress and in her heart she knew there was more to the evening than she knew, she also wondered what had happened to her child’s mask???

A Trip Into Fantasy Part 2…

As she stepped foot into the village, the huntress looked for one face. His. No one else, just him.

She went through the street, people politely saying hello and she responding in kind but only halfheartedly.

She searched as she passed the bakers shop, his sweet tooth was not active today. She passed by the milliners shop hoping he had stopped by there. Giving up the chance to pass by him in the street she started home.

Her younger sister came up and wrapped her arm through the huntresses arms was babbling about the dance tonight in the village hall. A masquerade ball. Didn’t people wear enough masks?

She felt that these balls were a waste of her time. She had better things to do than put herself in a place she didn’t want to be and deal with boys she didn’t have interest in.

She would go, she was expected to go. There would be people watching the door waiting for her to walk in. Letting a huge sigh, she walked into the house, hugged her father and kissed her mothers smooth cheek.

“Girls, go up and start getting ready for the dance and I will be up later to assist you”.

The huntresses bath water had already been drawn in a pan and was sitting there on her bed waiting for her.

She removed her cape and laid it on the chair. She would not wear it tonight. Everyone in the place would know it was her. No tonight she would wear her black cape for that is how she felt. Black, void, as if she were nothing.

She went to the rail hanging on the wall and pulled the scarlet gown and laid it across the bed. Her mother had strongly suggested that she wear it. Not wanting to start a scene, she had agreed.

She stripped of her hunting togs and began to wash her face. She was somewhat grimy from being in the woods all day so the cool water felt nice on her skin.

She ran the cloth over the rest of her ivory skin feeling the heaviness of the day wash away as well. For just an instant she shivered as she washed her skin and assumed it was the temperature of the water causing it.

She wanted sleep. She wanted to just curl up in her bed and let her body rest. She knew her mind would not rest but a few minutes of relief for her body would have been welcomed.

Just as she finished drying the water droplets from her flesh, she heard the gentle tap, tap, tap on the door. She well knew that on the other side of the door her mother was waiting to  help her into her corset and to slide the red dress over her head.

“Come in mother”, she said wearily. “We must hurry”, said her mother, “you mustn’t be late”. In her head the huntress was figuring a way to not go at all. She knew he would not be there. He did not attend such functions.

She allowed her mother to cinch the corset until it dug into her flesh. She was standing in front of the mirror and instantly saw the benefit of the garment and if allowed to wear just that and her hunting togs, she would have been fine. She did like corsets. She didn’t even try to deny that. That long, heavy dress, well that was another story.

Once she was dressed, she went down the steps almost too narrow for the dress she was wearing and met her sister at the bottom.

As they began their walk up the street, her sister was blathering on about the boys who wanted to dance with only her, she would comment from time to time but she was only attending this function because she was required to be there.

As was custom in the village, the dance where were people were paired up and it was unthinkable that the younger sister be mated up before the elder. That was a disgrace. Let it be, she thought, let it be.

She was not looking for a silly boy she needed to pretend with, she needed someone to encourage her to be herself and accept her as such. Someone who would allow the wanderlust in her soul to be free. Someone who allowed her to spread her wings and fly among the sparrows.

As they reached the hall, they pulled their masks over their faces. As she did, she felt a shiver of anticipation. Where had it come from? What if he were there? She had mentioned it in passing but never asked directly. That would have been unthinkable. She knew he would not come, she was just wishing her life away.

As the doormen opened the double doors, she stepped inside. She handed off her cloak to the attendant and began to walk toward the crowd milling about. She wanted to run. She needed air. She could not stand being among the group, although she knew each and every one, she needed space.

She turned to make a dash from the building when she collided with another body. Instantly, it reached out to steady her. She felt firm hands grip her shoulders gently as if she were a delicate rose. She looked up and for just an instant, she forgot to breathe.

As she gazed up at the face of the person, she knew she had never been safer in her life. It was him. He was here. He was holding her safe so that she did not do herself mischief and for a moment, all was right in her world.

A Trip Into Fantasy…

**Note: Unlike my other writings, this is a work of fiction**

She sat in the soundlessness of the wood. The huntress, she was aware that danger lurked all about and yet she sat, silent and still.

She held her bow close to her and the arrow in her quiver could be accessed in one swift movement. She knew no fear. She didn’t shake nor shiver. She sat, her eyes darting to and fro, side to side searching for the game which would walk into her path.

She knew that her passions set her apart from those other girls in the village who fawned and fainted to gather the attention of the boys of the village.

She knew who held her heart and she chose not to give those other sillies a thought. They lived their way, she lived hers. She was not going to cast stones at those who lived differently than she. She expected the same in return.

The man of her heart was not one of these featherbrained boys scurrying about the village, he was one of those men who followed his passions ardently, just as she stalked her prey.

When they were apart, she longed to hold him in her arms. When they were together, she became clumsy and awkward when trying to express her feelings. That deep burning in her soul to hold him in her arms could not be expressed with mere words.

As she sat there, deep in the forest, she didn’t realized that far behind her that same man was standing there thinking those same thoughts of her. He watched the huntress shiver and pull her cape closer around her and was jealous of the hunter green garment hugging her curves, longing to know if the garment had feeling.

As she turned to look over her shoulder, feeling a gaze upon her, he stepping in behind the old tree he stood near, never took his gaze off her for fear she would disappear. He noticed that for some reason, a small, gentle smile passed across her those lips he longed to feel on his. This made him smile in return.

Suddenly, as quick as a heartbeat he saw her pull the arrow from her quiver and bring the bow up. He had heard nothing. Unsure what had alerted her he watched with baited breath to see what she would capture.

As the fawn ran in front of her, she tarried. She didn’t pull back,  actually, she lowered the arrow toward the ground.

As gently as the breeze that circulated around them, she walked up to the small animal. It was not startled, it was as calm as if she were not even in the forest, she reached her hand out and laid it on the animals head as she rubbed it; as her hand slid to rub the spots on it’s back,  she shed tears.

How tender this moment was for those watching to see this woman who prided herself on her skill with her weapon of choice, in a surge of gentleness, giving her time and attention to this small forest dweller.

He wanted to rush from his hiding place and hold her in his arms but he knew he would ruin the experience for her, so he stood his ground.

She rose from the ground, pulled her hood over her raven hair until he could no longer see her face.She picked up the instrument she carried with her at all times and she started her trek through the wood and over the hills back to the village.

This was a moment he would carry in his heart forever and she would never even know he was there.

When I am Doing “Nothing”…

Right now I am in one of those non productive phases. I am not making jewelry, I am trying to figure out how to market the stock I currently have, so I am not making anything right now there is no point.

Yet, in the back of my head and on my many project surfaces, things are happening, they are just not being assembled. I am looking and thinking.

I am wanting to paint. Not that I can paint anything that anyone would know what it is, but I want to paint for the sheer feeling of the paint and the brush on the canvas.

On my long 12 hour shifts, the my thoughts go toward my person, future projects, editing photos that I may or may not share. Those things that matter most to me.

When I am “doing nothing”, my brain is quite busy. I may not be using my hands to piece together my jewelry, I may be forming a story that I am working on. The dream of being a storyteller will never die. It is a dream I have had for a very long time. I want to engage and inspire children through the spoken word. I love to take them on adventures and bring them back with just the sound of my voice. The image they see in the process is up to them.

I think about if my person and I could hit the road and make a living, truly make a living, doing what we love to do and make the world a better place, how fantastic that could be. This is another dream that will never die.

I may look like I am doing nothing but I am firing on all cylinders.

When my co-workers come in, I talk with them yet suddenly, I want them to go do their thing. I need time to think. They talk so much that the noise drowns out my thoughts. When they are gone, the story I am thinking about, the piece of jewelry I want to make, the thoughts of just sitting and painting a picture the world will never see, they all come rushing back into my mind, along with wondering if the person who holds my heart is resting well or if he is awake in the night working on his own projects.

So while it may look to most like I am still, that  I am serene, that I am placid, some may even say lazy, my brain is very busy. I know it is a time for me to rest, to think, to regroup.

I will again begin to produce products I want to share with the world but for now, I wait, in the stillness of the night, in my own thoughts.

When Morning Comes…

When morning comes for others, I am going to sleep.

As others are getting home from work, my “day” is beginning.

I leave work and depending on my schedule one of two things happen. I either go to my second job creating a 16 to 17 hour day or I go home and start to settle my mind.

I have taken up a couple of new habits that seem to help me rest better.

That is more what I want to talk about ; what happens when I go home when morning comes.

First when I get off work, I go and get something to eat. I didn’t use to do that but I won’t eat again before evening. I should have food.

I go to my dwelling place and unload the items I brought back from work, gather my breakfast food and carry everything into the house. I put my work bag in its proper  place.

I sit my “lunch” bag on the counter and unload anything that might need to be refrigerated.

I then go and get out of my uniform and into something more comfortable. Then I sit. That’s it. I just sit and listen to myself breathe. I try not to think about anything for a few minutes. This can be hard. It is hard not to think about that person who makes your heart smile or what happened the night before or what you should be doing instead of just being. Being a human “being” and not a human “doing” is difficult for me but I am trying to make better choices.

After I have cleared my mind and just sat for a while I will eat my breakfast. Once I have consumed a food like substance, I write in my journal. I write about what I am feeling right at that moment. It is cleansing for me to clear the last thoughts of the day before out of my system or write my dreams or my desires in ink.

Once I do that it is time for me to send one special message welcoming someone to their day as my “day” ends.

That is what happens when morning comes.