they make the rules,
we play their game whether we want to or not.
I know the game that I want to play,
but they never seem to hear about the one that I want to play.
Faithful?
Gathering the faithful, she says.
Sure, I have faith,
but it�s not in their game that I have faith in.

Everything that they bring up at the job club just doesn�t fit me. They talk of managerial jobs or construction. None of their jobs are for me. Their program doesn�t cover the job that I need because we live in a artless place.
I�m not waitress material.
I�m not a construction worker.
I don�t drive vehicles.
I haven�t met my �mentor�. I haven�t met anyone that led to a real job.

Making creative people work soulless minimum wage jobs just so they can pay someone else�s mortgage is a Big Waste.
I don�t want to bother giving my ideas in these job workshops anymore, because no one seems to care anyway what someone like me thinks.

I feel like everything I feel has been felt before.
Everything I want to say has been said before,
by many people.

Sometimes I�m afraid my creativity will run out on me. Julia Cameron (the Artist�s Way) talks about the artist child within each of us . . . and I thought of my mom�s artist child; she is pale, scared and skinny, and is alone in the dark . . .
My artist child is impatient and impertinent. She is a bratty genius that lives in a messy attic.

When I think of my parents, particularly my mom, I envision a stark raving mad person enveloped in layers of masks and disguises; the classic calm exterior covering up the crazy interior. People like my parents are afraid of any kind of craziness because they still believe in seeing psychiatrists.

I shouldn�t look at what I�ve previously written until months or even years later. But on the other hand, I do like to continue some points I covered. I�m not sure what I want to write.

Job club: I had to hear about this lady�s story of how she met her mentor which eventually got her employed. She also told us of her daughter who lives in San Diego in an inherited house and receiving allowance. I had to hear her bash the food bank, saying it was a waste of time, money and energy. This is a woman who�s hired to tell us to get a job because we have no reasons why we can�t work. This is a woman who talks about knowing what it�s all about . . .
What a big fckn hypocrite.

I feel like I�m being driven crazy. Not by people I love, but by these people that get paid to make people like me feel like shit. I think they�re trained to think that they�re giving us �pep talks�, but I almost always feel suicidal after their stupid �employment programs�.

I think the craziness factor has a lot to do with the surrounding expectations of what the person in question will do, or say.

Social Services spent thousands of dollars on that �Destinations� bullshit and all it did for me was drive me insane.
A workshop called the artist�s way that costs $165 would do me a world of good, but would they help me with that? No. Why? Because it�s what I need. They wouldn�t make any money if they actually helped people.

You tell me to jump in your game to which you never tell me the rules.
Do what the others do . . . why should I?
I don�t want to play any game.
I just want to work on my divine mission.
God gave me the gift of intuiting and drawing some explanations of some of life�s mysteries.
I am an artist.
That�s how I�m made.
I have to create imagery that people will see and understand a little bit more of some of life�s mysteries.

I sat here thinking and thinking of stuff to write but it�s such a chore to arrange the ponderous words to fit the flitting thoughts.
What a synthesis: to change thoughts which are invisible, into understandable words which are of the three dimensions.
The most moving and inspiring piece of written material that is humanly possible is quite worthless to forest creatures, who would munch on it if the paper is any good, or tear it up to add to the nest, or not notice it as they snuffled along.
Why are humans so obsessed with intangibility? Why are they so busy . . . ?
What? So busy doing what?
Doing . . . what?
Animals do. They do whatever they do, all the time.
So humans do too. Only . . . humans think a lot about what they do.
I don�t want to state what animals really do because I am in the human world; but I am quite sure that animals just simply do without dwelling on matters. Then again there�s some pets that are known to pine after a loved one. Do wild ones sink into depression if a lifelong mate croaks? Somehow I doubt it. House pets are human creations, especially dogs, and as our own creations they reflect the surrounding humans. The domesticated ones live the human way of being.
Think of a pack of feral dogs that terrorizes neighborhood pets, eat the wildlife, and chase the occasional kid unlucky enough to wander too close.
Now think of an inner city gang and their drive-by shootings, rival fights and addictive drug dealing. They are similar; both have some kind of leader, rarely venture alone and both disregard any laws, whether natural or legal.
We�ve heard of feral children; Mowgli being a popular fictional one. A feral child is one who was raised by animals in the wild. What if many children at once got raised by nature? They would inevitably establish a mode of communication; if they�re all raised by baboons, then they would all talk like baboons. What if they�re each raised by different animals? A baboon speaking human would encounter a leopard speaking one, then a bear person would encounter the both . . . then what? Would they recognize the other�s shape as their own? Would they eventually surpass the species language barrier or would they take each other for intruders or predators or prey?
The antelope person flees when a wolf person is seen.

Place: a planet where wildlife proliferates.
People: newborn baby humans �planted� in different animal communities. Most would die of course, but some would survive. Most chances of survival: primates.
By the time the baby learns to crawl the sibling cubs are almost grown. Would the wolf mother patiently return to the den to nurse a baby that doesn�t seem to grow? I believe that it could have happenned, at a time when the Earth was in balance between spirit and matter.

I want my daughter. I need to give birth to a daughter and a girl needs a mother like me. I need a daughter, my son needs a sister and my mother in law needs a granddaughter.
I want my egg to surpass the tubal ligation; I want my fallopian tubes to heal back together again, allowing clear passage to the meeting ground of the sacred dance.

The God fertilizes the Goddess
ensuring a great harvest.
The Goddess invites the God
to quicken her creation.

My mom, she who bore me.
I looked at my belly today,
previously swollen, now flat and wrinkled.
It�s stretch marked and soft like jello, but it�s not bad.
When my mom was my age,
she did not permit herself to have a healthy lifestyle.
She did not ride a bike or walk and run everywhere.
Her belly was much more so then, than mine is now.
Did she feel ripped off?
Did she feel hopeless then about not looking �beautiful� again?
I�m pretty sure she hates the fat lady look.
I�m also pretty sure that she still feels ripped off.

Sheylene
Two year old girl said, �God told me to pray like this.�
She placed her hands to direct the Light into her third eye.

Christians and Pagans (the ones with pure hearts) are quills of the same feather.

Growth (yang)	Growth (pagans)	Growth (unregulated and proliferating)
Order (yin)	Order (Christians)	Order (stifling and stagnant)
D     I     V     E     R     S     I     T     Y

Apart, growth or order can be unbearable.
Together they can achieve beauty.

Pagans have no rules; they are proud of that but squabbles have arisen and people became confused as a result.
Christians have lots of rules; they are proud of that but arguments have arisen and people became repressed as a result.

They could use a little of each other.
Growth and Order should be in harmony to achieve Diversity.

It�s funny how it seems like I was/am on my correct path but since I had a �cloud� over my head, my path was more like it was parallel to the good one.
It seems that at any point of my teen years, had my parents taken my wishes instead of my anger seriously, if they accepted my uniqueness by no longer criticizing and, I think most of all, had admitted to me their downfalls and human-ness, that big cloud would have rained one last time and a rainbow would have appeared. My old path would have merged with the Shining one.
I suppose if I were already on the Shining path I wouldn�t have noticed the other path and its view of the need for acceptance. A voice inside me insists that I would have known about that need anyway. So then the new age banter chimes in �you choose your circumstances� so that I�d really notice that need.
Part of my �waiting� had to do with someone I never met and no one knew of. If I had the word tool �mentor� as a teen I might have talked about it. No. I wouldn�t talk about it because no matter what word I used, my parents not accepting me was a big obstacle. So I waited to meet people (person) who would fill my requirements. No one fit my high standards (I had read the Castaneda books when I was a teen). I was looking for a Jesus-like shaman, someone who dances on coals and flies to steep precipices. Someone who untangles the most knotted riddles and explains it in understandable terms.
Some people came sort of close, but only in an abstract spirit sort of way. That�s been a sort of lesson too, because the one I looked for is a spirit, and it manifests in different people in different ways.
So your lesson so far is to believe in yourself; the Master you�re looking for is your future self, and lessons are learned through meeting various souls. Meeting a like-minded person is a healing salve for the soul.

More and more proof of how success is dependent upon the parental units. I�m tired of being told by people who had breaks in life tell me that I can get whatever I want. What a bunch of frikin� bullshit. These people get paid to tell us about their lives. They get paid to �hang out�.
I ask, �how could I get a job like you�ve got now?� the answers are always furtive and I am not given any leads or help. My parents never accepted my style or supported my goals, which were too "lofty" for them.
What causes my stress? Being told by �professionals� that my lack of success was my own fault. My lack of �positive� thinking. I had hope, I still have it. I�ve asked for help but my requests were not heard. What requests? Desk top publishing course was only available to UIC recipients, home business grants only available to people on UIC. Welfare people get �workshops� because they think we�re messed up.
These stupid seminars make me more depressed. This �stress management� makes me feel worse. Probably because none of the stuff these people talk about matches my life. They talk about being too busy. Yeah. We�re real busy being unemployed.

What if my mom was a pot smoker? She wouldn�t have blamed my depression on pot.

This is boring. This �job club� the social services put together doesn�t seem geared to someone like me. I want to live in a tribe, surviving the elements instead of this domesticated existence . . . which is what my ancestors strived for: easy heat, easy food . . . I�m feeling insane, like I say the wrong words or I feel like I . . . dammit, I forgot what I felt like.
What is this block that keeps me from moving ahead? I almost feel like there�s actually a veil over my head. I should have done a . . . I just realized why I don�t do any rituals like Durga did, it�s because I don�t have a ritual; everything I do is different; or maybe I haven�t let myself notice my acts and movements . . . it�d be a lot easier if I had a schedule . . . I miss Durga and her spontaneous rituals. I�d ask her to invoke the circle if I saw her again. She never invoked the four directions, she just started humming and directing her �disciples�; she had such great directing power. Stop crying dammit. I feel very sad. Stop it. Please don�t cry. This is not a place I care to cry. It�s because I miss Durga. I feel like I might have failed her. Or scared her somehow because she was afraid of someone or other�s energies that were apparently messing with her spirit. She found names for everyone, my friend was Isis, two others were Mary and Horus. I really want to talk to someone else who met her. My friend wasn�t Isis for too long because she had a job that was time consuming and didn�t participate with us that much. I did a lot with Durga. We were movie extras on an X Files episode. She had named me Diana at first then declared me the more ancient creator goddess Inanna. That didn�t satisfy her either so I was to house the spirit X or Ix. She had me watch the Shadow as an initiation; good movie by the way, and had me n� Mary stand next to an airstrip on a really windy night to receive our �incarnations�. She had two husbands, one was into cerebral matters and pharmaceuticals, and the other was into shamanism and martial arts. A partner for the mind and another for the body . . . wow . . .

What are they doing now? I really liked them. They were really neat. Anything that was metaphysical they understood. I miss them. I want to see them again. I understood them then, but now I understand even more and I could move so much more energy than before. It�s hard to explain what we did. Basically her goal was to keep the people on the right Path, to remind them not to use the �dark side�, She said that someone had done a ritual in the great pyramid to bind Isis. She was very angry about that. Mary was supposed to go to church services and do what, I don�t know. Probably just observe.
I see my path as a bridge between the �christians� and the �pagans�. Another path of mine is to know people from different scenes: I feel like I�m supposed to live with a community of wiccans and all that neat ceremonial stuff that they all get together and do, but I hang out with people that aren�t into it. It almost seems like the �cool� folks that are into the �new age� and natural ways don�t want to encourage �outsiders�, because, to me, the ones I�ve met never offer to pick us up to go to drum jams or coffee houses . . . one of them said, �well, you just gotta show up, you know.� I�d take that comment happily but the one who said it has a car and when she doesn�t have it just gets a ride because she�s right in that scene.
Why is my desired kind of company so unattainable?
Will having a car make me more involved?
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