Beautiful, Do You Mind? – Chapter One – Have We Met Before?

This post is the first chapter in the book: Beautiful, Do You Mind?
I’d love for feedback and opinion on the start of this work (also noting its style is much different from the Fountains books).  I’ve only completed (when posting) part of the second chapter of the book, though want to verify I’m on the right path.  Sooo…. Here is, chapter one of Beautiful, Do You Mind?

Chapter One – Have We Met Before?

You know, I’m not clear if she ever really knew who I am.  I had thought about her for a great many years, and even five years from now I’m not even sure that I know who she is.  I had never stepped up and built the courage and faith in the idea that she would ever go out with me, and my own fear and neurotic introversion never really let me tell her (to her face) that I wanted to be with her.

She’s amazing, though.  I can see clearly in my mind the house I want to build with her.  I can see the main sitting area.  That was the first part that became clear in my mind; the home.  There’s room for about nine to ten people to sit in the main gather place of the home, and the dining room even has space for eight adults to dine together.  The kitchen?  I can see it too; a place where many people can work together to craft an experience, not just a meal.

I instinctively seem to sense she may be in for it too.  I could be wrong.  I’m very good at getting the wrong idea.  I thought (with one gal) that she and I would go to the Sochi 2012 Olympics, conceive our child there, and then move back to North America and get ready for our future life and child.  I’ve very clearly and often set the cart before the horse.  A weird and strange thing, though, is that according to the Chinese Zodiac, I am a horse.  Perchance I’m looking for a female cart to let me take her around the world and back.

The past few years have been very easy and muddled at the same time.  I have ‘worked’ a lot.  I’ve had a few jobs, though the work that I do has been seeding with the plough in seemingly barren fields.  I’ve invested a great deal of my effort and energy on projects (and dreams) that have such an extreme lack of results.  I have been labeled a fool (even by my own self) yet I also desperately want to wish that there is value in what I’ve done.  Again, I’m very good at being wrong.

My family is distant.  I have no brothers or sisters anywhere on this planet and, as an only child, I have some severe and deep flaws in my worldview of thinking.  I’ve also acted (at times) like everything I do and think has vital importance.  The evidence to this statement is clear to me, yet we also know it matters not what we think of ourselves, yet rather what others think of us.  Then twist in the advice that we should not be concerned about what others think and that it’s the thought that counts.

Regarding the friends and people that I know?  They are not so many.  I know this, and I accept this, yet I’m not clear if I’m going to try to do anything about it.  It’s sometimes easier to not have friends as then there is no one to disappoint or, as has happened a lot in the past, then there also is no chance of a friend performing a betrayal.

I’m also exceptionally self-focused.  I know so little outside of my own self and my microcosm.  What I do know, I know very well, yet I’m only one tiny dot here on Earth compared to the great magnitude of different people, ideas, and things.

Because I live alone, there is no one there to tell some things too.  Due to my self-focused and sometimes self-projected importance, I have pushed away so many people that now there aren’t even visitors in my current home.  It’s not fully that I don’t want people to be here, it’s just I sometimes forget to tell people that they matter and are liked.  Maybe more people would choose to hang out with me if I remind them that they’re appreciated as a friend and a gem.  It will also help to invite them.

Though, there are a few gems that do glimmer back the light I sometimes shine.

My vocation and profession is life.  I’ve heard that each person should consider themselves a company and all of their friends as contacts and colleagues.  Another grave mistake I’ve made is that I had tried to treat my friends like guilted customers and supporters.  People should not be used as bargaining chips.  Every person should (I think) be appreciated for who they are and not what they can do for another.  The idea that people should be valued without needing them to give or supply resources, time, connection, or money.

It’s weird though… I still think about her.  The ‘her’ that I refer to shifts sometimes.  Although I’ve not really had a girlfriend at all in the past five to ten years, it might be due to my polyamorous stalking and obsessiveness.  There have been a few gals I’ve liked a lot, though after getting shuffled back into the deck of life, I seem to attach to the next card drawn and forget about her and what she is in my heart.  The salacious depravity is a different issue.

I’ve used language and subvert ideas and theories.  I had created parts of my own code and metaphors so that I could talk in secret with the few who knew what I mean.  I’m not really all that sneaky or smart.  I just did too many drugs and blame that instead of owning up my own faults of arrogance and buffed up mental image and mange.

I kind of want to let her know I like her a lot, though as good as I am about being wrong, I also have a habit of shooting myself in the foot or cowering from putting even a hint of my own true heart forward.  If you ask me how I am, I’m sure to tell you much more about other people than revealing my own sacred and shattered truths and soul.

The other thing that nags me is my thought that the world is merely playing me like a game.  “Let’s see what we can make him do and then crucify him for being human.”  Maybe my cat did have the right idea.  The one and only time I heard his telepathic voice was when he looked up at me with a disgusted face and with a vulgar tone accused me of being what I am “Human!”.

I really like cats, though I cannot get another at this point in my life.  As a random fact and idea (that I will use in the future), there is a thing called ‘pet insurance’.  From what I’ve been told of pet insurance is that it’s a monthly payment for having a pet and that if there are any unexpected vet bills, that the insurance will cover it.  I also let you know (for those who get cats) that leukemia in cats is contagious and also can be vaccinated against.

You may not have any clue as to who I am.  I could be a random idea or imagination of your mind; an existential figment of delusion.  I could be an extension of your own subconscious speaking these words back at you from decades in the future or even seconds in the past.  If you’ve never met me (or I’m purely fictitious) then how can anything I say have relevance to you and your life!?!?

Or, and this is really dreamy, are you the one that will be there in 2053 celebrating with me and Aeris the fact that I orbited the sun 75 times successfully (with you hoping on the journey next to me some 35-50 years earlier).  I don’t know, and for the fact I don’t know, I can’t claim if I’ve ever (or will) meet you.

There is a deep familiarity of spirit within my (our) soul.  A quote from Aristotle was found on a book I bought that says “Love is composed of one soul in two different bodies”.  I thought we were meant to be brought together, yet my slashed wrist reminds me that that could have broken the deal you made to yourself.  Maybe I should have given up.

I also have gone through points in time where I thought I have been on this planet for more than a thousand years.  The drug trips that I went on were so cinematic and wondrous and called hope to my vacant heart, even if you were not the one to fill it.  There was wonder back then… Now I’m just dawdling along.  There is a quote I read: “Not all those who wander are lost”.  I didn’t know who it, though Google told me it was J.R.R. Tolkien.  (The Internet need not be just for kittens, Facebook, and battling the Hydra!).

Even though I’ve only had two and a half girlfriends in the past sixteen years, I hope she understands.  It’s not easy for me to trust people.  One friend made the recommendation that I try to find a girlfriend on a hookup site, yet that idea is not a good one either.  I’m not a great sex person.  I’m very certain that the next gal I get in bed with better love me for a lot more than the idea of good sex.  I know that ivory makes wonderful canoes, and I best have that tusk for backup or else she’ll really be disappointed.

Some people have been diagnosed with ADD, OCD, or anxiety.  I know in college I was diagnosed with clinical depression, though the other three diagnoses slipped through the fingers of the mental health system.  Even if they caught the labels and threw them on me, that’s not (currently) things that they will dispense PWD (disability) status for.

With jobs in the past, I’ve been sizzling with anxiety pre-shift, even at jobs that I’ve been fully capable of working.  I know too of the ADD part of myself that I am on both sides of the pendulum.  I can be fully focused and present and listen, hear, or follow what someone is saying, while inversely I can shift between three different topics by the point in which a goldfish blinks.

For the OCD part, I’m a bit more impulsive than compulsive, though the obsessive nature of myself is something I wish they would have counterspelled when summoning me to Earth.  There have only been a rare few women/gals that I’ve fallen for, and I know that I smothered the chances with them with my obsession.

My other self-interested behavious also may scare away some lovestones (girls that are loved).  Even the female friends that I like, and have an open heart for, I have often neglected to contact and remind them that they’re appreciated and liked.

Through the past three months, I’ve shifted from my neurotic behaviour of messaging every green dot on Facebook and reading literally every post on the newsfeed.  This means there are many more than a few (of both male and female friends) that haven’t been sent a hi and hello since January or February of this year.

In regards to one lovestone, I was given the advice, or rather idea, by a shop owner that was based on “catch and release”.  The magic rule of ages and relationships is half the age plus (or minus) seven.  Thirty-nine divided by two is 19 ½, plus seven, is 26 ½.  You can see by the math that she’s too young.

But, rationally, which gal will ever hook up with me if I’ve still got myself shackled to the tree of self?!?  Is it best to live forever with no one, or to take the risk of disrupting the Universe to tell the world the story and have the world of Earth bring her to me?

I still don’t know.

Maybe my intuition is right.  Maybe that butterfly comes to my garden to just chill with the sunflower(s).  Maybe they fly away and live free because they too are afraid to get trapped in the net of a relationship and meet up for coffee or lunch.  Maybe I was thinking of the right gal when I had sushi for the first time popping the roe and thinking them of the “Bubbles of love”.

As said, I still don’t know.

I invite you into this journey, yet I have zero clues as to why you would follow.  My heart torn and shredded and discarded by the Shredder in my mind.  My own attachment to outcomes I fear I could manipulate for my own benefit.  I have spoken and written that I want to be transparent and an open book, yet I misdirect many points towards me that would encourage me to share (what I know) as truth.

My own fantastic idea and delusion that she would want to build our home with me and enjoy the warm water in the shower to stream down her body and onto the sandstone of the enclosure.  That she will see the aquarium that surrounds our child’s room that shall be a haven for secrets of our child and their future dreams.  That she will remember that we will help many more than we can yet fathom with the efforts of our combined intents, actions, and heart.

Then again, we may never know each other.  We may never meet the moment of that first fearful kiss that will bring my faith to the point that I can love and be loved by another for who I am (when I have so little faith in myself) with full adoration and honour.

It’s clear to me.  I must trust that she and I will cross land, ocean, and/or sea.  It’s better to believe in love instead of grasping at every dove that speaks peace.  The multitudes of lost time and connection will restructure and call my heart to be her home, even if I think there is no space or room for myself, let alone another.

Or, perchance, it’s best not to dream.

I walked the streets near two decades ago.  It was a point where I had been a Twinkie; a person with a home who hung out with street kids.  At that point too I was trying to be interesting and to gain favour of people.  I was a very strange cookie dipping myself into everyone’s drink.  Some adulated me for my words, actions, and ideas.  Some others loathed me, though, unlike the next city, they did not go to the lengths to scare me into death.

It’s weird, because as much as I knew there were some people who didn’t like me, I still had felt safe to be who I was and to live freely.  It was the next few years where my fears involuted into myself and I began to learn distrust.  It was in my third drug life that I acted like a star, and it was that community that wanted to assure I would be die by my own hands instead of their own.

My first drug life (happy-hippy fun days) had barely any points where I would fear for my life or safety.  I was like a free range chicken doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it, with whom I wanted to do it, and where I wanted to do it (other than the girls, that’s a story for later).  I remember all the cast and crew of the school’s pub and the characters there.  They were not characters that I saw as playing a role, they just were people that I found so amazing and cool (and some kind) that they had character.

It was during my first drug life that I fell for a real gal where I thought I knew what love was.  I may have been wrong.  I loved her for who she was, yet the feelings that I had were not reciprocated.  She cared, yet maybe too much as she also had a boyfriend.  I made ‘the move’ on her which resulted in her and I not speaking for the remaining three months that I lived in a townhouse on campus with her.

Using her codename, the Original Lovestone, she was, in retrospect, perchance the most perfectly flawed love that I’ve ever known.  I still am a fool.  She and I never formed a full relationship, though I do remember her inviting me to her home one time with explicit instructions focused on the word/name ‘Cornwall’.  I still agree with (some) of her ethics.

The way I’ve told the story to some is that I loved her so much that when it came to the point of her sacrificing her body to me, that I didn’t have sex with her because I thought she was not wanting to.  There had been a time where I was told I could choose any girl, and clearly, she was the one that I chose.  Just because we choose another doesn’t mean that they would or will choose us.

I don’t regret knowing her though.  She (even two decades later) still has given me the gift of knowing more about myself and my obsessive nature.  She also reminds me that I don’t want to force people to do what they don’t want to do.  She also reminds me that, even latently, I can and do have care for some people; more than I’ve yet to learn or comprehend.

Would I have done things differently?  I’m not clear on being able to answer that.  It’s also based, partly, on the fact that I know I can’t rewind time and make a second take.  Why would I fret about changing the past when I can’t adjust my choices in that moment of time.  Instead what I can do is think of what I will do differently in the future?  Even if I could go back in time, I would want to instead meet her again now and talk with her about what has happened and not what had happened.  To that lovestone, I release the wish of truth.

A different lovestone (near the same time as the Original Lovestone) was one that I should maybe not call a lovestone.  I’m skeptically sure that I did really love (even by action and intent) the Original Lovestone, yet the one I think of now is the first girl I had sex with.  She has never (even to my awareness) been given a lovestone name, and that should be a clue.

The first girl I had sex with was one that I met in a city I was visiting, and she invariably moved with me to another province within a week of us meeting.  She lived with me for three weeks on campus before revealing to me that she had lied to me.  I will not reveal what her lie was, though it resulted in me kicking her out and back home to the city I met her in.  This girl reminds me that even if there’s lots of sex, that doesn’t mean love.

Then there are some relationships where we get the best of both worlds.  Not the LGBT type of ‘both worlds’.  I mean that (unlike the other two girls I’ve slept with) that her and I had a physical relationship AND also a connection where I wanted to marry her.  I told her on the first date that I thought I was falling in love, and her response was “Don’t be so serious, let’s just have some fun.”  She is one that I know and call a lovestone, though will not label her with a first name.

When I came back from my trip (I was overseas when she and I dated) we talked on the phone once or twice, and she also sent a letter with photos in it.  I didn’t return the letter to her (a regret that I have) and we didn’t talk on the phone too much either.  The reason we didn’t call so much was also because this was the point of me going into my second drug life.

After the happy-hippy fun days, my second drug life was more criminal.  I had been kicked out of my Mom’s home because I brought strangers over to her home and I had sold my car to a dealer on a deal of $200 a month for one year.  The sale of the vehicle would be vital, as the $200 per month they owed me for the car was used to pay for my rent when I lived with them (so as to not be living on the street in winter).

It was during this second drug life that a lot of bad things happened, and I won’t go much on about them.  The times were not as dark as one might presume. Though I essentially was their lackey; selling their drugs, mooching cigarettes at the train station (not being able to return home until I had four smokes), and also forced through some fairly demeaning things, I also had some pretty amazing fun time and cool interactions.

There also was the grace and blessings of some acid trips, some smoked drugs (not just marijuana), and the status of being a dealer at the mall.  The one thing I will say that I liked a lot of selling at the mall was that for every weighed gram I sold there, the buyers would have to smoke a joint or bowl with me to get a $5 discount.  $10 per gram instead of $15 for the full grams I weighed each morning before leaving the home.  I got high about seven times a day.

One congruent thread through my drug lives (all three) was that I was involved in music, specifically electronica and raves.  Though my second drug life had me as being used to sell my owners drugs, there were some explicit times of freedom and attending some really great parties.  There was one party that I attended on a tab of Hieroglyphics (a type of acid) that held five to seven primary awareness points of hallucination that I, perchance, should share more often in story.

More closer to now, I was told by a friend earlier yesterday, the idea of life being like a pendulum.  I know this pendulum nature this with my current life of my feast and famine situation with resources.  At times I have abundance, while at other times (like when typing this) I am not even having three meals available to eat at home.  If I carry the pendulum analogy to my second drug life, I’m inclined to think of how I swung between the opposites of freedom and death.

Some friends may see me ‘swing’ at them by reaching out and making contact (like the pendulum) and then swinging away towards my self-focused nature of study, writing, and neglect.  I want to find a balance (and shall) though maybe I also would like some people to catch me when they (or I) swing close enough to be in reach.

Even with this chapter, I started on one side to write and tell you all about ‘the girl’ and then went off to my natterings about drug lives.  If there’s too much time between the opposite highs of the pendulum on either side, I more rationally think I’ll get stuck on my own thoughts.

On the opposite side with my friends, my community, and our future, I want to catch myself from swinging too far back into my past to a make sure I don’t trap myself with this dangerous contraption.

It may be her to have selected me, yet I too know I must accept and unselect her.  I often send out the wish that the will of the Universe be done; to leave things to fate and destiny.  I have been told to trust in the Universe yet I still wish to push away my teetering lack of faith.  What if I am too flawed and not stable enough for my lovestone?  What if she can’t hop into the canoe with and take a trip down the river of life?

As said, yet again, I still don’t know.

There is a cryptic wish in this.  Even though I haven’t mentioned specific names, there still are a few secrets laden in the understanding I have.  I may not be able to grant you the full perspective of who I am because of how I shield and withhold my own truths (fearing that they may be fact) yet the idea of Sprites cross my mind.  Even if one of them flies in and lands at my side, dare they truly share their heart in a bold and honest way?  Are they the horse and I’m the cart?!  It’s not clear to me, yet through the journey of this book we shall find if the Spirit is fully compassionate, truthful, and kind.  Some would say it could be nothing less, yet still the mess I must digress and return to the worlds of dream.

There are a few seams that have come loose.  I must trust in the process.  I must seed the ideas in lands I have not yet met.  I must push out and away from the way some people wish to play, yet I also recall the promise I wish to make… “Forever and a day.”

Though I am not clear on what the plot and plan of the world, God, and the Universe is, I must submerge myself and envelop myself in uncertainty to clearly, and succinctly, behoove my own trust into the futures and pasts both known and unknown.

Thank you for coming along on this journey.  Beautiful, do you mind?!



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