Ravin' Mad

Many if not most of the friends I have made over time, online as well as in real life, are amongst the people that would be considered crazy, mad, mentally ill and various other wordings by society as a whole. They have either been diagnosed with mental illnesses according to the DSM IV bible, or people consider them mad because they think and act differently than most other people. They don't fit the general public's picture of "normal", and as a result of this they have often had, and at times are still having, a difficult life.

The funny thing is that "mad" seems to be something largely depending on the standards of the people surrounding the "mad" person. It is largely defined by cultural and social standards, it depends on where and when the "mad" person lives and who they interact with. There is also a thin line between being considered mad, and being considered a genius and ahead of one's time. Both Newton and Einstein for instance were considered raving lunatics by society during their time. Nowadays we see them a lot different. A shaman, interacting with spirits, healing the sick both physically and mentally is seen as a holy man by his tribe.. but if I told my doctor I do the very same thing I may very well end up in a mental hospital where they will do their very best to convince me there is no such thing as talking with the spirits, diagnose me with schizophrenia and stuff me with pills that make those weird ideas go away. Truth, as always, is in the eye of the beholder.

So why am I writing all this? because I wanted to tell you I am extremely grateful for all the "mad" people I have the honor of calling my friends. I salute them, for having the guts to be different. I watch them fight their demons, from a distance or sometimes from very close by because I am a part of that struggle and fight by their side. I stand in awe listening to their out of the box ideas, their perceptions that at times have helped me a tremendous lot with mine. I admire their courage as I watch them deal with things that are impossible to deal with as they go through deep depressions, manic periods, terrible nightmares. I am as over the moon as they are when they tell me about sightings, new connections, battles they have won and the light they discovered at the end of the tunnel. And most of all.. I admire their warmth. The warmth that can only be felt from people who are real, true to themselves, facing both the darkness and the light inside them. Ravin' mad people are the best.

Tarzan

I wrote this piece a while back for a Dutch website on female sexuality and thought I would share it here, too. Enjoy!

Tarzan

I have never been into vibrators. Never seen what's so exciting about shoving a buzzing thing inside my most tender bits. Don't get me wrong, I like sex a lot and can keep on going for hours in a row. Masturbation can also be extremely good but I prefer the old fashioned way.. I have two hands and I know how to use them. No vibrating plastic for me, thank you very much.

Until a friend came to visit. Her hair a mess, stars in her eyes. And an hour late. "It's because of Tarzan" she said. At first I thought she had a new boyfriend, but it soon turned out the jungleman she was speaking of was a vibrating substitute. Although, substitute... Much, much better according to her. Cumming like a train over and over again. I saw that familiar glow in my Love's eyes and could see the mental image in his mind: me, using a thing like that, having orgasm after orgasm. A show he was clearly looking forward to.

And so I wasn't really surprised when the next day he came home carrying one of them unsuspicious suspicious looking bags from the sex shop and another bag filled with so many batteries they could provide sound and movement to my kids' toys for the next couple of months. But it was clear that was not what they were for. From the sexshop bag emerged my new lover. "Black Tarzan" it said on the box, and once freed from the box he turned out to have brought some friends. Tarzan himself was in the middle, looking like a cross eyed alien with an anatomically utterly incorrect head. Behind him, some sort of worm was sticking out of the block the whole thing was attached to. And in front of him, facing him, was a retarded monkey with a very, very long pointy tongue. I provided Tarzan and his petshop with the necessary batteries and then started test round one while my Love was supervising the whole thing.

Tarzan was a bit of a sticky character made out of very soft rubber. One slider on the block was for controlling Tarzan himself, who as soon as the whole thing was switched on started rotating his hips like a Hawaii dancer. The other slider controlled the monkey, and as soon as that one was switched on it broke into a heavy attack of Parkinsons and started trembling all over. The worm was somewhat vibrating along with all that. Anal stimulation for women still is an area largely unexplored.

I pushed Tarzan's alien head where it belonged. This automatically placed the monkey's tongue in the correct position: right on top of my clit. The worm was doing something vague around the back but hey, one look at him was enough to know he was never going to achieve anything substantial anyhow.

Now this was something. Gently, very gently I moved both sliders up towards a medium position. The whole thing came alive. Tarzan danced his dance and made an awful lot of noise, the monkey was doing it's best but all in all it wasn't brilliant. Allrighty, on to plan B. Both sliders, to the max. I was going to tame jungleman and have my way with him, him and his illegal pets. I was going to make him sweat and work for it.

Full speed now. Tarzan himself moaned, turned and buzzed even louder and the whole block started moving. The monkey was now digging into my tender flesh like mad, its razorsharp tongue creating a sensation much like my dentists polishing machine. It took me less than a minute to reach an orgasm that wasn't all that good and primarily painful. And I had to shut off the vibrator right after that because once the rush was gone all it caused me was incredible pain.

Come on girl, stay with it. I must be doing something wrong here. Start slowly, increasing speed slowly. After all, cars have to be broken in too, so the same probably goes for this thing. Yawn. My jungle lover had never even heard of decent foreplay. This was soporific. But as soon as speed was set to one notch higher he made the same mistake he made earlier. Full speed to the finish, painfully good but most of all painful, burning, itchy!

Burning? Itchy? Removed the whole thing and thoroughly examined the place it had been in. Bright red all over. Rinsing it with lots of water helped some, but not much and the burning and itching continued. It lasted for days. Allergic to the sticky type of rubber the whole thing was coated with. And so, apart from being a lousy lover, Tarzan turned out to have given me an ETD. Dickhead.

Weeks later he was given another chance. A condom over his head. Which didn't help, because his pets are made of the same material and once more the experiment caused me lots of misery. And I wasn't all that enthusiastic about the illustrious three to begin with.

I broke up with him. I was all out of love. My significant other, who at first had watched the whole thing grinning but didn't like the results any more than I did, totally agreed. Maybe I am spoiled rotten sexually, unable to enjoy the joys of jungle love any longer. I really don't know. But the conclusion is crystal clear: You Tarzan.. me definitely not Jane.

A song in my heart

I love music. I always have. In my moments of sadness, it is music that brings a smile back on my face. In my moments of utter joy, it is music that makes me dance and express what I feel. When I worry, have a problem I can't seem to solve, feel something I cannot quite put to words.. there's always music, a song on the radio making me see where to go or what to do, somebody whistling a tune that suddenly makes me realize what's going on or find the solution I was looking for.

I also communicate an awful lot through music. When my kids feel down I will play them happy songs. When I want to tell a friend or a beloved one something but find no words to do so, music will often provide what I need to get the message through. For quite some time I was an Internet DJ, providing music for a dance club in an online game I play. People there often told me what I played was just what they needed at that moment. I guess that is the empath in me at work, sensing the mood and coloring it with music, enhancing it, or balancing it.

So why is it so friggin' hard to express what I feel right now? Why am I sitting here, browsing through the thousands of MP3's on my harddisk, unable to find a single one that says it all? Playing bits of many songs, only to find myself hitting the stop button over and over again. Noooh, that's not it, noooh, not even remotely close, no, no, NO!

Why? Because this time it's different. This time, there is a connection deeper than anything I have experienced before. Not a crush, not a feeling of falling in love head over heels instantly. This is wanton lust mixing with profound friendship, a cuddle and a primal roar, waves crashing and motionless understanding, one blending into the other and all equally good. Warm and deep and scary as hell because it goes straight to my core, through all the shields surrounding it as if they weren't even there. I try to fight it, deny it, wondering where he got the keys only to find that since I am the only one who has them it must be me who gave them to him, somewhere, somehow, at some point in time, without even realizing it.

Wondering, pondering.. then realizing it really is not all that important why. And that no matter how hard I try to fight it or reason it away, he is under my skin. Belonging there somehow. Making me whole by being an equal, giving me as much as I give him. Awakening what has been asleep for a long time. Bringing me to life.

And suddenly I find the song I want to hear. It's by Evanescence, one of my favourite bands. I have heard it numerous times before but this time the lyrics hit me like a ton of bricks. That's my soul crying out and the call being answered.

Hmmz, smiling again. Thank gawd for music.

Things we would at times like to say, but won't.

1. I can see your point, but I still think you're full of shit.
2. I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.
3. How about never? Is never good for you?
4. I see you've set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public.
5. I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to see it my way.
6. I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter.
7. I'm out of my mind, but feel free to leave a message
8. I don't work here, I'm a consultant.
9. It sounds like English, but I can't understand a word you're saying.
10. Ahhh...I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again...
11. I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid.
12. You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.
13. I have plenty of talent and vision; I just don't give a damn.
14. I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.
15. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.
16. Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.
17. The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist.
18. Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.
19. What am I? Flypaper for freaks!?
20. I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.
21. It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of Karma to burn off.
22. Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.
23. And your crybaby whiny-assed opinion would be...?
24. Do I look like a people person?
25. That isn't an office, it's Hell with fluorescent lighting.
26. I started out with nothing and still have most of it left.
27. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
28. If I throw a stick, will you leave?
29. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
30. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
31. I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.
32. A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.
33. Can I trade this job for what's behind door #1?
34. Too many freaks, not enough circuses.
35. Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
36. Chaos, panic, and disorder --- my work here is done.
37. How do I set a laser printer to stun?
38. I thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted a salary.
39. Who lit the fuse on your tampon?
40. Oh I get it... like humor... but different
41. Do you teach Ebonics or just practice it?
42. I like that outfit. My Redneck Barbie has one just like it.
43. Somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery.
44. Somebody shoot (him/her) and put me out of my misery.

Many rivers to cross

While sitting here, listening to Joe Cocker singing his fantastic version of "Many rivers to cross" I cannot help but wonder what is happening to this world.

So much violence, war, hatred and destruction is going on. In their hunger for power governments all over the world are taking decisions that only lead to more violence, more hatred and thus more war and destruction. People are starving while others have more money than they will ever be able to use for themselves. We are killing each other, killing this planet and it seems as if we all think this is perfectly normal and perfectly okay. We have become numb, living our own life as well as possible, and trying to ignore what is happening to the rest of the world.

We, all of us, have been poisoned. Nobody knows when and how exactly and the poison is non tracable and very slowly working. But it is in our veins and it is killing us. And meanwhile it is making us insensitive to all the badness that is going on. Oh yeah, another murder, another town blown to bits, another country dying of a killing disease. Yeah, it's terrible, what's for dinner?

There is an antidote. It is very easily obtainable, in fact we all already have it in us and all we need to do is activate it and it will start breaking down the poison. Its name is hope. Hope for a future, hope for humanity to finally come to its senses, hope for the planet to be saved before its destruction has reached the point of no return. Hope has the power to make things work, and to make people work together towards solutions and a future.

Unfortunately, many of us have already lost hope. You can see it in their eyes, notice it in the way they continue living without a meaning. The poison has numbed them, and they are asleep. Asleep... but not dead yet. And they can be woken.

All it takes, is for someone to give them a real good shake. Someone who has hope, and is able to light a spark of hope in another person. Just like the poison is spreading like a disease, so can hope do the same thing. Many of us may have lost hope, but that does not mean humanity as a whole has no hope left.

Look around you. See the people that keep on fighting, keep on inspiring others, helping others, teaching and guiding and showing the way. They are everywhere. From the friend that lends an ear or a shoulder to the spiritual leaders of this world. From the teenagers that somehow kept their faith in truth and honor to the people that left their home and their country to go and help other people under often impossible circumstances. Charity organizations, rescue workers, social workers with a heart. Fundraisers, musicians and other artists bringing the message through their work.

This world is full of hope! We just need to see it. And once we do, we have a responsibility to spread it. Fight for it, make people aware, light that spark that can be lit in each and every one of us, hidden under all the numbness. It can be done. And I trust that it will be done. But it is a lot of work. And it will take a lot of time, and effort. Or, as the song goes: Many rivers to cross.

Green

Thursday morning.

Slowly, she emerges from her bedroom, stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen where I am busy making breakfast and preparing the school bags.

"Good morning, Joy"

She mumbles something.

"Start getting dressed, love, I put your clean clothes on the sofa here. I'll be right with you to help you." She takes the small pile of clothes, consisting of pants, sweater, socks, underpants and a t-shirt and puts the t-shirt and underpants aside.

"the clean underwear too, Joy"

A deep frown, she grumbles.

"Is something wrong?"

Silence.

Then: "I don't want to wear this t-shirt. Nor these underpants."

Sigh. Owdear. I'm barely awake, my brain still running in slow motion, but still I am expected to find out what exactly is wrong with the underwear. To ask her directly is not gonna work I fear, but I try anyhow.

"What's wrong with this underwear?"

An angry face, more frowning, and then a response that tells me nothing. "I don't want to wear it".

Think, Kit. What are you overlooking here?

"Sweetheart.. I have cut out all the labels so those can't bother you. I have washed it already, so it doesn't smell like the store anymore and it feels nice and soft. It is wonderful, brand new, soft cotton, I really don't see anything wrong with it".

She looks at me as if I am a total idiot.

"I want to wear this t-shirt, the one I am wearing now, or the other one that is exactly the same".

"Girl.. you've been wearing this one for 2 days now, and the other one is still in the hamper. I bought you new underwear because you always wear those 2 sets only, and I simply can't always wash them in time. And again.. there is nothing wrong with this underwear".

Once more she shakes her head, giving me this "you're so stupid" look. "It's green".

For a split second, I am speechless. Then, I erupt. "But the t-shirt and underpants you are wearing now are green, too!!"

"That is a different type of green".

"On the contrary, it's the exact same green, it just hasn't been washed as many times, it's new but trust me, it's exactly the same type of green".

She puts it back on the sofa as if it's some sort of dirty dead animal and scampers off to the walk in closet.

"What are you going to do?"

"Fetch new underwear"

It's now very late and there is no way we are going to make it to school in time. I decide to stop arguing with her, for now.

When she returns with a set of underwear she apparently does want to wear, I once more have to sigh deeply.

"Joy.. this T-shirt is very old and way too short, and those underpants have a hole in them."

She shrugs. "I want to wear those".

Despair, pure and utter despair and so I try again, even though I should know better. "But.. why????"

She shakes her head and smirks at me. "Mom.... THIS underwear.. is not green!"

*Grin*

After tidying up and doing some chores around the house I finally flop down at my desk. Morning coffee time. One of the moments during the day when I still miss my cigarettes, sometimes. I read my Email, pop on SecondLife for a moment to check my sales and log off again before people notice I'm there and start IMing me. I still have tons of work left to do around the house.

As always when alone in the house, I play music. My music, undisturbed by anyone or anything. No loud cartoons, TV shows, battle sounds from various computer games, screaming kids or hubby telling me "you really must hear this" ( but I really don't wanna) stories. Just me, my surround system, kickass sound card, and lots and lots of wonderful songs. What I play depends largely on my mood. Lately, it's primarily the quieter music. Rock ballads, lots of native American music (check out Robbie Robertson, people), Enigma, Deep Forest, ambient and lounge music.

Shakira's "Underneath your clothes" brings a wide grin to my face. Its lyrics somehow remind me of him. As do countless other songs. If I were still DJing, I'd dedicate them to him. Her latest album is something special though and so I play more songs from it. "Ready for the good times" is another track that makes me smile big. Great lyrics:

"Cause every day there's a war to fight
and if I win or lose nevermind
as long as you're my shelter every night"

I've been dreaming a lot, lately. I vaguely remember being in the forest last night, its colors, the way it smells, the sounds.. No details really, or even what the dream was about, just an overall feeling of *grin*. Oh well, *grin* is good.

Onto more cleaning house. Life isn't so bad, at all.