A Funny Thing Happened On My Way to Write a Blog....

A funny thing happened on my way to write a blog....I fell in love. Whap you in the face with a cast iron frying pan love.

Strange. It's been a long time since I've actually allowed this emotion to even remotely tap on my cranium and strum away at these rancid old heart strings. I held my head up high and convinced myself that I didn't need love. I was soooooo over that feeling, and could live a fulfilling, incredible existence without it. (Who was I trying to kid?) Instead I played a game of convenience; allowing a modicum of intimacy if it was timely, if I was amorous, or drunk. Very drunk. I liked to call up my girlfriends and we'd chat about whether "this guy would be the one" but we all knew that really, he wasn't. Not this one. I was just up to my shenanigans again and getting a bit more bitter and damaged in the process. We would spend time over endless cups of coffee, or long, drawn out Facebook messages figuring out the lapse in connection between me and "the guy"; basically psycho-analysing the shit out of the situation. Scenarios from childhood, experience, connections....nothing was left to the imagination as we emotionally raped the psychological makeup of anyone within a 10 mile radius of my heart. It was a good way of covering up for the actual truth of the matter; I was afraid to be in love because it  means being completely vulnerable and relinquishing my doubts in trust. Whew. That's a tough one.

And it happened. It happened and I can't even really explain how. Guess a lot can be said for pheromones, because when I'm with Brad it just smells right, and that's kinda funny because he's a plumber. haha But I think "relinquish" is the key word in this scenario, because when I realized that I trusted him completely, as cheesy as it sounds, those nasty ol' rusty shackles were hacked off my wrists and ankles. A huge weight was lifted and I was released from the burden of mistrust and just allowed myself to feel love. And he really does smell good. Ah pheromones....I like how Wikipedia has defined it; a secreted or excreted chemical factor that triggers a social response in members of the same species. Sha-wing! A definition like that definitely takes romance out of the equation, but interestingly, it helps to defy the logic that others may see in what may be considered "mismatched" couples. How many of you have laid in your bed at night with your partner saying, "I can't believe he's going out with her!!!" or "Man, I don't know what she sees in him 'cause he's just a big goofball" or whatever. People are sometimes judged for their choices in mates, without putting a bit of thought into this bizarre, magnetism that is part of our genetic makeup. I know that I've said it of others and it's been said of me. Consider this a public apology. Pheromones defy logic. It's base. It's raw. It's true. It's love on the purest and smelliest level. Snort.

And with that is that fantastic feeling of lust. Wow. Nothing tops that crazy, coo coo, banal feeling of desire that makes you plum dumb right to the very core. I wrote a whole blog about it once and now I feel myself reveling in that very thought and it's not even March! Woohoo! Who needs Spring to feel desire?

Cavebabies are Born in December

I kind of giggle when I read that blog, because it reminds me of my philosophies about passion. Anyone that knows me knows that I seem to live through the words of Leonard Cohen, and I may have even mentioned it here before in the lines of my blogs. Just like Cohen, I don't seem capable of sharing passion for a lover and passion for my art. It's one or the other because love is so overwhelmingly consuming. My studio is filled to the brim with half done art pieces, and snippets of ideas, and I have basically moved all of my Christmas wrapping into that space for now, because I don't have any interest in devoting my body, mind and soul into my art. I'm just not passionately there. It's why I haven't been blogging. Everything's back-burnered, including my understanding friends that send me messages teasing me of my neglectful ways. I suck at spreading my passion evenly among friends, family, pets, art, health, and housecleaning. I know that eventually I'll find that balance, but right now I'm getting swept up in midnight kitchen waltzes, fervent debates about ideologies, beautiful delicate whispers and fresh bouquets of flowers and I wish that for you too.

So go smell that special someone and tell them that you love them, even if you may have forgotten (maybe just a little bit?) what that's like. You can read this blog some other day.....