Tantrika Samois' Blog

Acorns.

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From tiny acorns, mighty oaks do grow.

These past few days, my brain has been overwrought and in overdrive with organizational planning. My planning work board space looks like a NASA engineering white board of calculations, data and notations. I have had to micro-manage myself by forcing myself to write out every small step of each project and in the exact order it needs to occur in so I can stay focused and keep on track. It looks like a to-do list for an Alzheimer's patient.

First, sit down. Put one leg in the pants. Then, the other leg. Now stand up and pull the pants up. Zip them closed....


And with that, my sleep has been anything but restful. The silence of my sleep now sounds like a radio station that refuses to power down.  Active, tossing and turning, vivid dreams and dialogues in my brain all night long about what needs to be done, when and how and what will happen if something goes wrong.

I heard an acronym recently. W.O.O.P. or Wish-Outcome-Obstacle-Plan. I have everything clearly defined except the outcome. For whatever reason, the outcome remains vague while everything else is so clear that I have the equivalent of legal citation notations attached to each small step. 


It seems that I know exactly what I have to do. I just don't know exactly where I am going or why. I just have all small parts that have to be tied together to try and make a sustainable vehicle to get me off the island of limited resources. Maybe that is all any of us really do until we can find our way to higher ground or safer shores. Make the vehicle, navigate by a distant star and hope for the best while we fight all manner of…

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pretty boys.

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Warning. This entry contains bi-sexual male material.
The following entry may or may not be true.
Parts of it may or may not be embellished.
I may or may not have been one of the participants.

At the end of the day, (and the entry) - will it really matter?

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“You are so pretty.”

The words slipped out of my mouth like an unexpected rush of air escaping softly through a canopy of trees; barely noticed by anyone except the person it touches along the way. He smiled wide and looked away for a moment in surprised embarrassment before returning my gaze with intention and optimistic invitation. I didn’t want to open myself up for humiliation, thinking that I was reading interest where there was only polite flirtation to increase the cache in the tip jar and decided to focus on my order of business at the bar. It was a martini and a strong one. I promised him a marriage proposal if he made it strong enough and he replied with a cheerful, “And I would accept it!” as he made my drink.

 It had been a long day and standing there without cosmetics on my face, my hair pulled back in a utilitarian bun, wearing a loose blouse with no bra, shorts and sneakers, I hardly qualified as a femme fatale. And because this delicious man was making me feel like a human being instead of a human train wreck, I was willing to forget every bit of cautious common sense in my head and entertained the fantasy of what he would look like naked and entangled in sheets with me. He had a gentle face and I got lost in his eyes, full of curiosity and innuendo when he grinned, ever so slightly at me. He…
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Sacred whores and mundane saints.

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Menial work. Literally brainless. You could teach a monkey to do this job and the monkey would probably not find it nearly as tedious, and be just as productive.

But it is predictable income. Not enough, but reliable and consistent. I feel about money the same way that some folks feel about spouses; reliable and consistent is the best partner to have in stressful times so here I am.

It is suggested to me that I should accept this as the most solid, intelligent option I have available, make the best of it and aspire to find ways to climb up the professional ladder in this company since I am clearly smarter than a monkey (...but obviously not smart enough to have built a financial or professional empire that makes retirement seem like an option instead of a death sentence... because how you know me through this blog right now appears to be my most successful endeavor over the long term so far.)

In short, it is being suggested that I settle down, sit down and give up... on life, on  the future, on myself... that what I do now is unacceptable at some (unspoken) level, and unacceptable to such a degree that menial labor work and trying to shimmy up that ladder to a more comfortable perch in the barnyard for a few more pennies on the dollar, makes the best kind of sense. Wage slavery and mindless misery for the security and respect of having a "normal" job that is working beneath my capacity so I can have ... a more comfortable coffin in the form of a couch and a predictable schedule? I don't know. I honestly don't know.

I like being here. I have deep, intense, loving and.or supportive interactions with individuals (most of the time)…

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Oh. Hell. Yes.

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I love this photo. :-)


And yes, its really me.


And yes, I took it myself.


With a gopro and a tripod. God bless technology!

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