Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I am so freaking happy. Oh my freaking God. I am so freaking happy. Oh my freaking God.

Repeat 10,000 times.

Why?

Oh my freaking God. I cannot even explain.

I won the lottery. I love my cat still. I have new flowers in my apartment. The walls are covered in black smudged poetry. I'm living in a parallel universe. I have everything I could ever want, ever dream of. I should have been aware before that love starts within, that the moment I decide to BE love, I would experience love. The moment I decided that love was within me, that I was the source itself, then I could live a life full of this.

And what else is there? Really? To life, I mean, what else is there?

Awwwww it's like I am perpetually being snuggled by an invisible kitten all day long!

Psycho mono, psycho jealo

I see walking hand in hand

Pscyho's what they'll call ya

the day you give a damn

Like every dom has a sub

the posse has the ownee

The point is: look into ya

if you really wanna know me!

Heart space <3

Rat race !!!

Keep my pace - - -

Or leave this place....

See my face +++

Never erase @@@

I thought I told ya, babe

Love without a trace ***

Nothing

This life was lived in a

short while

It came out in many variables

Too many sentences

starting with "I"

never made room for "you"

But who are you?

It doesn't matter

because tomorrow the dinosaurs

will roam all over again.

These words will turn to dust,

this pen and paper will crumble

under the weight of tomorrow

and become nothing

How does "something"

become "nothing"?

I wonder if this is the place of God

I am God,

or was it you?

We are neither

because this ignorance is

overwhelming

until

it is all-knowing

This language is the mouth

of centuries--nothing.

This sound in the throat

is the music of

thousands of sunsets--nothing.

This body is a vacuum

sucking on electric current.

Is there God in the current?

Then I am God,

or are you?

Tomorrow is like today in that

it will be--inevitably--yesterday

And yesterday

is gone

always here

never was

always will be

I dare say "I"

all over again

I am completely washed in this

and still have the mouth, throat,

body to relate this electric current

that may be God right into you--nothing.

Getting Fired Now?

I might get fired, not sure. Well, would they fire a teacher for what I did?

I completely and totally flipped out on one of my kids. I actually lost it, went to the very limits of my self-control and stopped so close to crossing all my boundaries (yet it would have never happened) that I could feel the breeze on the bottoms of my toes as they hung over the ledge of that cliff.

Am I "on edge" lately, or did this kid just hit the wrong nerve?

I go for the latter, and I am prepared for judgement now, if it comes to that. They can take my job.

What happened? Well, I asked the kids to tell me about their holidays, what they did during the break. And one kid started to brag about the cat he had punched and started laughing. I perked up, but didn't go crazy yet. I asked him if he was serious. He said yes. I asked him why, and he said because he hates cats, and he likes to kill them.

Snap.

By the time I was done chewing into him, I was trembling and about to cry. I think I might have actually levitated as I flew at him. I cannot even remember everything that came out of my mouth, but the most volatile of sorts were, "Oh, how big is a cat? This big maybe?" I showed with my hands. "Okay, so you can punch something smaller than you?" At this point, I lifted my fist and charged at him, got within inches of the kid, "Alright, so you are smaller than me. Are you scared? Do you think I should hit you? You are smaller than me, just like that cat was smaller than you!" The child looked like he was going to pee his pants, seriously. He was fighting not to cry. Then I whirled around and addressed the whole class, told them that they are MY STUDENTS and I don't care what the rest of Turkey does, I don't care what the Kuran says, and I don't care what their parents say, or about Turkish culture. MY STUDENTS will NEVER hurt animals. The whole class was frozen silent. WELL! I was shaking, furious, FUCKING FURIOUS.

The worst example of an educator ever. Or maybe the best. I'm not sure. I think it depends on where your morals lie. If you're an animal lover, you're cheering me on, aren't you? Otherwise, you're about to get the number of the school and send the ward after me.

Then, I threw out the whole lesson plan for the day. Nope, not gonna study this little boy whose grandmother brought him a seashell from the ocean. NOPE. Because TODAY we are going to learn how to respect animals.

I pulled an entire lesson out on the spot. I told them the history of Turks, how they migrated from Central Asia and that before Islam, they were Shaman, and that the Shaman respected animals. I told them that they all had the blood of Shaman in them, that each of them had magic powers, but they could never use them unless they learned how to be true Shaman by respecting, loving, and protecting animals.

Then I invented the Animal Protector Angel and told them that I had touched each of them individually over the course of the year, and that I had Native American blood in me, so therefore I was a very powerful Shaman, that I came from a long line of magic workers who could do anything if they had a pure and loving heart. I told them that I was casting a spell on the whole class, and that the Animal Protector Angel, who was my personal friend, would now follow them for the rest of their lives and watch them to see if they are ever mean to animals. I told them that even though I cannot see them always, the Angel would watch them, and if they ever hurt an animal again, she will bring Justice to them. We all looked up the word Justice and talked about what this meant. I told them it didn't mean the Angel would hurt them in any way, but that she would teach them a lesson, and that this lesson might be painful or hard to learn if they were stubborn as she was teaching them. I told them that the lesson might come immediately, or the lesson might come years later, even in their next life!

The kid who had been bragging about killing cats transformed before my eyes. He started asking me if eating meat would make the Angel upset. I told him no, because he needs the food to live, but that he could thank the animal before he eats it if he wants to please the Angel. He asked me what to do if an animal attacks him, and I taught the class about body language and how to respond to aggressive animals to avoid making them afraid. I told him that if a dog bites him or attacks him, it means someone else hurt that animal in the past, and so it is afraid of all people now. I told him that the Angel forgives him and will forget the past, but now she will be with him forever, and so the future is the most important now.

It turned out to be the best lesson I've ever taught, because every single student was leaping out of their seat eager to speak, ask questions, share stories. They were mesmerized to learn that they came from the respectable Shaman.

I then gave the icing on the cake and told them that if they love, honor, and respect animals, then the animals will protect them all their lives. I told them that when I walk alone in Istanbul (and this is true) the dogs will walk with me, surround me, because they know that I love them. I pointed out that no one could hurt me, because I was surrounded by dogs who would protect me. I explained that if they protect animals, then the Animal Protector Angel will send animals to protect them as well.

The lesson was an ongoing state of trance for every person in the room. The words on the board said it all:

SHAMAN

Magic

Animal Protector Angel

White Magic Only

If you ever hurt an animal, the Animal Protector Angel will bring you JUSTICE.

It was the best lesson I've ever had, but first I almost made the kid pee his pants. Really, you should have seen how scared he was. Of course, I would have never touched him. My other rule is to never hurt children.

Isn't this what it really means to teach, though?

some stuff you don't understand cause you're not

inside of my body, and you cannot feel this fully,

the walls that cage me within this shell, a shield

and everyone sees first my casing before knowing

what or who I am, and I'm already judged by then,

labelled: white woman tall blonde messed up teeth

in here I find a home and a prison, my eyes the

windows to a tattered house that I systematically

abuse and caress in intervals with the pulsing tide

the urge to make you understand overwhelms all

and inside is a woman screaming....bring you here

where the barriers become irrelevant and unreal

criminal circumstance perverts the purity struggling

with the essence of you as I force myself to see

beyond your carefully designed projection of light

concealed within this dying creature surrounding me

is the immortal breathing, beating, crying truth

that innocently hopes to God you will have mercy

Shhhhh

Now, I've gone and done it, loose cannon

snapped went haywire went nuts went fire

and blew the compressed suppressed repressed

love fear desire hope truth dream devotion

right where I shouldn't have, right at

nothing

the abyss so patiently waits for me to

forget my name again, forget that NEVER

is my name

and that LOVE is the question asked upon my birth

as my mother uttered the word NEVER

airborne cycle of heat turns sour and black

a dense recollection that we never get away

we stretch and run and pull apart at the seams

but always we find ourselves back where

we started

in the womb and nameless, waiting to be told

how life will occur, how it will taste and feel

what dreams will suffer and what nightmares

will flourish

this is the woman who would cut off her own

hand if it hurt you, her own eyes if they betrayed you,

her own tongue if it lied to you, and yet

you are my hands and eyes and tongue

it occurs to me as usual that to love you

is to love me, but to love me is to fight forever

this war

with at least two sides, each hegemonic in girth

but battling for the angle of world domination

I find that loving you as usual means to

reject my own name

to remove my face and become a blanket of white

expressionless

ready to accept that I'm blind, mute, dumb

my concept of reality and dreams already too jaded

too insufficient to know anything

to have any idea how to be what you need

how to touch you without

scratching

"gentle" would be the word

but NEVER is my name

so I can only tell you one thing now:

if I could erase all of that

name, face, history, beliefs

and retrace back to the fundamental origin

of universal naivety

and grace

for you

I would

music

i gently twirled my littlest finger

around a single string of his heart

then plucked it like a violin

sure enough

music

like an old classic stashed away

backstage at an art house all these years

he says no sound comes

from that silly thing

sure

of course

but did I ever mention, in all my ramblings,

how I’d always wanted to be

a musician of all arts

more than any

because there is all this time in composition

but then only a single moment

when the keys or strings

and the fingers and the feet

and body and eyes and mind

the movements so intentional

let go and work together

for just this moment to be

music

does any of it mean anything?

is any of it real?

his mind expands, my god,

a surreal maze of paths twist into

intricacies and grace with just a glance,

without calculation, just escape,

like a fire burning that made its way

over the highway, into the brush

then took off in every direction

devouring the landscape

as though the masterpiece for

symphonies and orchestras

that will never make a sound

my fingers trail along the words

in secrecy

through the terrain of volumes,

an encyclopedic tongue speaking in rhymths

swelling like an ocean of syllables, but

my god, my god, my god

don’t you see in this dictum there is

the hieroglyphics of

music!

Christen,

Sometimes I don't even know what I really miss. Is it only you, or the loss of my innocence? I miss your laughter, your brilliantly shining glow, your jokes and sassy personality. I miss life before I knew what loss really meant. I miss the simplicity of sunshine on my skin, the smell of flowers, a light breeze. And I miss your voice. I miss being able to love someone without the fear, the tormenting, aching, gnawing fear that I'll lose them. I miss your big, beautiful, brown eyes. What do I really miss? Is it only you, or the loss of my innocence?

Love always,

Big Sis

P.S. I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you. You know I would have traded if there were a way. I miss you.

Photos I like. Just in that mood, I guess.

The twilight is seriously beautiful right now. The silence in my apartment, the prolonged silence. The cat sleeping on the couch. The light tapping of my fingers on the keyboard, the random and subtle sounds from outside making their way through my windows and filling my home space with the soundtrack of life. A car goes by. A kid says something. A ball bounces briefly. Another car. An airplane passes overhead. The sun sets, slowly, casting a low shadow across the whole world, soft. Dim. Nearing sleep, rest, the end and conclusion of a long day.

A long go. A long run.

Long.

Ode to the Rockstar!

He's over the guitar in angelic pose, hallowed. Is that a shadow cast behind him? He screams into the mic. This is the modern-day archangel. From the centre of the Earth, from the bowels of the accumulated Hell between his burdened wings, he exhorts through those beautiful lips a howl of expression, a rebellion against the Sky! Against the Blackness that extends like a sea of hungry creatures before him, the audience in wait. Let it out, I want to tell him. YELL!

Oh, rockstars! Male rockstars!

I love them!

Now the sweat drips, holy water from his face, slipping from his skin onto the stage. He reaches up again, stretching his long long legs. Jump. Leap. Then howl again. He throws his body into a fit. Let it out, I want to tell him. YELL! Sooner or later, he might fling that guitar like a rejected weapon across the stage, spinning like a boomerang towards the curtains, is if to say the battle is over. He won. He destroyed the void of silence panging into his ears LOUDER than any noise in the world. He conquered the madness swimming within him, a torrent tsunami again and again ravaging the shores of his beautiful soul.

He was born here, into this. He was dropped like a seed onto the soil of existence--nameless, homeless. In a blind wandering, he's searching for love. He's searching for redemption. But all he has is this damn microphone! This damn space that grows daily within him, the emptiness.

This profound love. This intense compassion. This violent truth. This sweet offering.

It sounds like a war cry, yes. The drums pound. The bass thrums. He shreds the air with his vocals. But he is love personified. He is a God, daring to challenge the pain within with this bold standing ovation of spirit. I WILL NOT FALL TO YOU is in every spasm, every launching full-throttle into the air, every shuddering growl that rips into the tune chanting him on.

Yes, this is love. This is a grand refusal to bow down to the corruption, the pain and suffering of this world, and assert with prowess a soul unconquered by hate.

Let it out, I want to tell him. YELL!

The photos are:

1. Chino Moreno: Deftones

"Cloud, come shove the sun aside."

2. Sully Erna: Godsmack

"I'm doing the best I ever did, now go away!"

3. Michael Trent Reznor: Nine Inch Nails

"My whole existence is flawed. You get me closer to God."

4. Kurt Cobain: Nirvana

"Oh no, I know I dirty word."

DREAMS

I smell something very nice in the air.

Is it maybe optimism or an impending holiday?

Is it my honey face mask?

Is it the bundles of flowers I have in vases all over my apartment?

Is it Spring?

You know what smells OMFG good? Men's cologne. AAAHWHFKLESJBGJETHE?!?!?!??!

Should I even be telling about this? I was on the subway, and I don't even care who it was, but the mix of cologne and whatever else in the air was just fainty. I invented the word fainty just now.

Okay, this blog post is VERY pointless, I confess. Oh, well. Bla bla bla.

Smells. I like smells.

My cat is cute.

Wait, do you know what that smell really is?

DREAMS

remembered

upon waking

from a LONG sleep

I'm on the verge of a great awakening and I can smell it....

No matter what you say, I will not become your sculpture. No matter how much I feel or come to feel, I'll not melt into something unreal, so distant from my own two hands that I carry a branding of mercenary and cunning.

It is not a blind corner. I don't have evil plans.

You're the exception.

But it's too late to draw this out in a rhythm with my hands, too late to make it obvious or clear, to convince you of anything. You saw some of this coming, but mostly he's curious. And even if it all comes out, the walls become transparent and reveal every room, there will be still just one secret. It's of the origin, the Eden of my soul.

No matter what, I keep the door open. I feel the wave shaking the earth beneath my feet and I know full well that a breaking point is on the horizon. I know in that moment, we'll see a kind of transcendence materialize between us, and there will no longer be options....like hanging around to see what happens.

Instead, we will fall
into that
abyss

like a long-awaited
slumber after
the journey of our lives
that ravaged
ravaged
an insomnia
that lasts for years

My Soul Mate

My friend said that I ought to comprise a list of sorts about my soul mate. Visualize. Articulate. Write. Okay. At first I thought, sheesh, what? That sounds a bit tedious. Then I got this sudden flash and went crazy, started writing in a frenzy. Turns out, he is indeed living in me already, though I'm not sure if I know this guy yet. Here he is, the man I have dreamt of always and want to be with forever. I may or may not know this guy. This is all just dreaming....

he's much taller than me, around 6'3" or 6'4"

never does his hair

sometimes has facial hair

sometimes not depending on the day

he always looks slightly disheveled

because he has other things on his mind

he's always reading something

dark hair dark eyes

big feet big hands

long frame, medium build

maybe glasses

maybe not

he loves animals intensely more than humans

simple man but very layered

good-natured

intuitive and therefore a little feminine

but still clearly masculine in most of his ways

emotional depth beyond most, beyond over 99% of others

has a lot to say but doesn't tell everyone

artist, whether music, writing, or other

responsible

self-containted

VERY compassionate

PASSIONATE

never racist or prejudice

loves children

wants a family

extremely monogamous naturally

LOYAL

possessive and jealous

but gentle and considerate (though firm)

in his expression of these feelings

never violent with people he loves

there's a fire, an intense passion in him,

well-crafted

genius

appreciates music

a little rough around the edges (even grungy)

never too perfect

open-minded

can admit sometimes when he's wrong

can make sentences starting with, "I feel...."

NEVER lies to me

RAW as the earth

deeply spiritual but not religious

shrewd

good sense of smell

psychic

can pull off a suit

extremely articulate mind and way of communicating

somewhat prominent eyebrows

dorky

funny

fun

loves nature and the smell of coffee

he's dark in some corners--very dark and a little vampish

he thinks I'm a goddess even when I'm a total mess and not looking hot at all

he also knows I'm just human, nothing divine or holy

he's a feminist to the core because a woman is his best friend, partner in crime, and I'm his favorite

he cannot be tamed or conformed by ANYONE--

he's wild, real, vahsi!

he could be Turkish, French, Greek, Italian, German,

anywhere Mediterranean

I learn from him because he knows stuff I don't

he can't friggen get enough of me

and I don't even have to work at his desire

it's like he was born for me and the man can't get me off of his mind

he might have a female cat or even dog perhaps

his house is full of books, newspapers, looks like an abandoned library (or he wants it to)

he can clean but then gets distracted--a little of both then

nice strong jawline and nose

moves like water

he's Pisces or Scorpio

he once shaved his head, maybe more than once,

but at least once

he finishes my sentences

he doesn't overwhelm me with attention

but gives me LOTS cause we're joined at the hip

he's usually pretty stable but has his moments

(a touch of madness)

trustworthy

dependable

he's there when he says he'll be there....and he says he'll be there

a bit hairy

dominant but not controlling or arrogant

humble

he can pull off a pink t-shit

only has eyes for me and that was HIS idea, just happens naturally for him, cause I'm enough

he doesn't need any more and so doesn't look

but he REALLY wants a piece of me

to all other women, he's like a eunuch

but with me he's a fire show or nuclear bomb set off in my arms

other times he's cool, calm, serene and careful with me as though I'm breakable or he is

charismatic and magnetic

his eyes just PULL ME IN

he has goals, dreams (lots of dreams), ambitions, projects

he's a realist and an idealist

has a very wholesome view of women

takes them all the way in--even a bit of a hippie view of a woman--sees her as mother nature, flawless in her most base form

he's not "super hot" but has something about him that pulls me in

he can be good-looking, but that's not very important

it's more important that something about him draws me to him emotionally, spiritually, and chemically

he's dragging me down into the

insufferable depths

by the ankles; my surface

was bright and white and

waiting

with everything I am the blue

cuts new lonely

black rips in the fragile frame

supposed to be okay with

drowning

okay, it's fine with me if we

have to die in here

the idea of life too hot and warm

and cool and real, too awake

I liked him in his dark hat

and the way he finally

said his own name

like a long sleeping thunder

broken through the clouds

yeah, baby, it doesn't bother

me if you mean drowning

is just another day, if you mean

love is a waste of time and I

Dead on My Doorstep

You will see me rise up from the darkness

between your two earthly eyes

causing the blindness of shadows

where you've coded desperation into reason.

You will cut down that tree as my condescension

spans the full length of your lines

whether drawn, written, presented, or engraved

along the forefront of your heart.

You will hear the voice of a woman crying

in the back room into the walls

where no name has known recognition

but your own and all the glory therein.

You will ask yourself why the mirror seems

an illusion, a shield, a distortion of me

as the truth cuts away your alibi, your justification,

your logical side pinning of love.

You will want to walk away, and will you?

Would I even mind? Are you a mirage?

I will turn on myself and distract the heart ache

with art, paint you into the remains.

POSSESSION

I am on this never ending teeter-totter with the jealousy and possessive instinct. On the one hand, I never want to hold a person down, especially if I love them. But where is that fine line between giving someone freedom and being emotionally detached, between allowing a person to spread their wings and nonchalant indifference?

The problem is that I can never decide if I am allowing the right emotions to influence my decisions. In psychology I learned just how important emotions really are. There is a thing called emotional intelligence, and without these feelings, we'd all be a bunch of sociopaths with no remorse to stop us from doing horrible, stupid, outlandish, or idiotic things.

So, which emotion? Possessiveness? Free love? Argh.

With my cat Luc, I'd never let him go unless I thought this was something good for him. He is my cat. Mine. But I don't mean this in a hurtful way. We have an emotional commitment to each other, and we each contribute to our union for the betterment of us both.

Right, he has no idea what's going on, hehe. Just following his instincts. I think loves me, and don't try to tell me otherwise. I always leave the door open so he can poke his head out if he wants when I get home. He peeks out the doorway, then comes back inside. Out of fear? NO because he loves MOMMY!!!

And why do I feel like I'm talking to space Martians and no one will have any flippen idea what I'm even talking about? Am I a total space alien? Does anyone want to fry some marsh mellows on the hot hot surface of Mars? Wait, is Mars the hot one? Oh, sheesh, see now I've clearly forgotten what I learned in 6th grade and I even recall that lesson, the teacher, the room, the photos of the planets, her hair. But I cannot remember which planet was the hot one. Uranus?

The whole tide is upheaved
airborne
flung around
rethrown
at the wall

and then it explodes
on you

next sets in the panic
as I turn my clock
far past twelve
open you with my dagger
from the left boot

I'll kill this man for what?

this odd wave
would sooner turn on itself
perhaps the worst case yet

the worst case ever
because I am floored
and regrown
and owned
and in struggle against
myself for what I want but don't want to want but want anyways!

then just like that
little stream flows in
his face seems unfamiliar
did I love him once?

whole ocean upheaved
redirected
turned to you
all eyes on you
and will you take this tsunami
when it crashes
in your arms?

while you play with alchemy
in your hands
always claiming the accident
when you somehow
get your way...

while you say this is chance
and whoops and maybe could be
not intentional or metaphorical
or justifiable

but instead accidental, incidental
possibly just rational circumstance
and synapses ready to explode at the thought

that you had PLANNED THIS all along

you SUMMONED the ocean

YOU STAND THERE LIKE FREAKING MOSES

BAM the waves part
BAM the ocean changes course
BAM you're in the way
BAM all roads lead to you

they always always did
you fool...

let go

for the whole time
I was always yours

Sappho: He is more than a hero

He is more than a hero

He is a god in my eyes--
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you--he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can't

speak--my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn't far from me