Cinderella

My biggest reason for wanting to post tonight, was just so that I would have a record of this, since I think it’s a very ME kind of thing to do, and who knows? Maybe I will scroll back through old posts, and see it again. See the title of the post, and remember. That might be enough.

I got to work with about 3 minutes left until I usually head in, for all my pre-clocking-in prep (I leave myself 15 minutes). Given, yes, some of this was used talking to the manager about work stuff. So maybe I will have her adjust my time? Since technically, it was work stuff, not just hey, how are you, etc.

BUT.. 3 minutes or less.

Yes, there are some 3 minute meditations and breathing exercises on YouTube, but I would have also had to find one, post-haste. Since I already had a lovely Cinderella ballad playing, I decided instead to close my eyes and do some deep breathing to “Don’t Know What You Got (‘Til It’s Gone).”

I also realized that I tend to internalize ALL the messaging in the music I listen to. Maybe everyone does to some degree. But there are days I absolutely CANNOT listen to any “GRRR TO HECK WITH YOU” songs, because I feel like they’re directed at me, even though I know rationally that they are not. The emotional impact is painful.

I tried real hard not to do that, while I was deep breathing. Definitely could have related to either point of view from the lyrics, the one left behind just realizing what was lost, and the one who’d cast someone aside, even if the times I’ve initiated breakups or have ghosted, myself, have been a LOT easier to deal with.

But yeah. Meditating to hair band music. “How’s My Hair?”

I also remembered this week… I have NO idea where I heard this… but something about a musician maybe on the road who had someone helping with his hair (could have been a stylist for the whole band), who they all joked was a “fluffer,” like the term used for a certain role within the p*rn industry. (Yes, I know what that means, but I will leave that up to you to discover, if you don’t know, already. Maybe Urban Dictionary would be the safest route for that. Gotta be on there somewhere?)

Damn, now I wanna see if I can find a place for that joke somewhere in Mystery Train.

AND done.

It might be really difficult to keep a lid on the story until Halloween. I actually made it all the way through my first beginning-to-end pass last night. OH was going to peek at the notes I made in bed, on my phone, about other necessary edits that occurred to me just before I fell asleep.

There was something else, too. One last detail. And I kinda knew I would forget it if I didn’t record it somehow, but the cat was somewhat in the way of me finding my phone in the bedding again, and I was SO tired, by then. Hopefully, it comes back to me, or isn’t a glaring mistake of some kind, that I don’t ever correct.

I also added a bit with Dorian singing to himself, in the shower, working out lyrics to a new song, that I as yet have not finished for him. Started a Google Doc tonight with the line he had in mind, and some of the details which have inspired it. That’ll be fun. Something to play with in the next story. But there are two songs in Mystery Train as it stands.

I love the time I have to myself, to do posts on here, and tweak or start stories, and paint, even if nighttime can also get a little lonely.

OH, I haven’t shared it here, but I did try my hand at painting David from The Lost Boys, using the poster art I got off Amazon, and a photo on my PC wallpaper, for reference. It doesn’t quite look like Kiefer Sutherland, but as a painting in general, it’s not bad.

Especially considering I did it in very little time, and that I was reproducing a much larger piece onto the back of one of the wooden Valentine’s Day hearts, which fit in the palm of my hand. Been working on smaller detail work.

Mostly, I just wanted to take a quick whack at it, before bed.

And the backs of those hearts have been just waiting.

Like Kitten’s bowl of milk, from the picture book Kitten’s First Full Moon.

Just waiting.

Bah, the other artist did a much better job, even if to me anyway, he looks a little more feminine than how David usually vibes, in the movie. That could be the shadows giving guyliner. I tried to make mine a bit more “butch.” But undoubtedly, they spent more than 30 minutes or less on their piece, and may have had more training or practice. I will try again.

Mainly I wanted to use that art for reference because I had a vision of a black and white portrait, and figured since there is very little color, it would be ideal. Just some red in the eyes, a hint of something to the jacket and gloves, separating it from the background, and splatter around the edges.

I painted again last night. Not David, just playing around with colors, for funsies. A girl with punked out multicolor hair. To me, she looks familiar enough that I think I have painted something like her already, at some point. Nothing world shattering. But I am at least painting.

Also, if I may take a moment to be serious, and veer off the topics of hair bands and vampires (which go hand in hand at times)… my life can be a damn lonely thing. I really have to make a more concerted effort to spend time with some of my other friends, conflicting schedules or not.

Those connections are so nourishing to the spirit. And I definitely get something unique with everyone I know, who’s important to me. No one substitutes for anyone else.

I caught up on all of Part One of Season Two of Wednesday tonight. I think I started streaming it while I was still eating dinner. Really grateful it wasn’t one of the gorier episodes. Some of the visuals are pretty nasty. Not the kind of thing you wanna see over pizza.

The pizza, however, was fantastic. Garlic sauce, roasted garlic pieces, Italian sausage, etc. And I had it with butter leaf lettuce on top, for greens, and absolutely annihilated a package of strawberries. There are some left, but not many. Been missing fruit.

I had a killer headache after work but drove to the grocery store, anyway, and after Ibuprofen and caffeine, managed to replenish things for dinner, and breakfast staples. I don’t really do lunch. And I do have an absolute TON of protein/snack bars left. All that remains is eventually getting more Truvia, and zero sugar soda.

The size 14 skinny jeans or jeggings, I forget which, that I got are starting already to be a bit big in the legs. But I don’t think I’ll be down to a 10/12 in jeans for a bit. If ever? We’ll see. I picked up shorts in a 14 that are “signature fit,” and those are still a little snug. At least, they were the last time I wore them. Skinnies and jeggings for some reason seem to be looser in the waist, even if they are form-fitting in the legs.

Aw, Bon Jovi. “Livin’ On a Prayer.”

I kinda once knew a Tommy who was married to a woman named Gina.

That song always reminds me of them.

Or, at least, I met him twice.

I had a weird superstitious thing about it, too.

He was somewhere in the periphery of my ex-husband’s social circles.

The first time I met Tommy, I had a feeling my ex (then, my bf, I believe), was at a certain 24-hour diner, in town. It was an intense vibe that I was needed there. The other friend of the ex who I was with at the time, before I headed to the diner, said, “Don’t be surprised if there’s someone else there, who seems like they need you. It might not actually be him.”

A lot of my decision-making in that period of my life was a little loopy.

I lived by intuition. Maybe a little too much.

Tommy seemed really distressed. I asked if I could sit with him. I suppose that would be bizarre AF. He was instantly suspicious, and asked what for. I may have said something in passing before I left (he didn’t want me sitting with him, not even just to talk… again, I am sure in retrospect this was SUPER unusual)… like “I hope it gets better” or what have you.

Now, I’m not sure if my having said that, or showing concern, had any impact, or if he was just relieved I was leaving. I suppose both are equally possible.

But he’d come in all tense and upset, and his friends hadn’t seemed able to console him at all.

After I passed the table, and said whatever it was I said (which I’ve forgotten), his anxiety seemed to instantly deflate. Maybe it helped to know that a total stranger sincerely cared? I know I’ve felt better, in similar situations, when someone I didn’t know tried to help me out, however fleetingly.

I ran into him again, in my neighborhood, when he was looking for a ride. I have no idea what prompted me to stop, just that I felt like I had to, so I did. Nothing I have ever done before or since.

Once he got in, I recognized him, from before.

I had the windows rolled down rather than running the AC, which he eventually complained about in a rather crude way, so I agreed to turn on the air, instead. That’s about all the conversation we shared, apart from me mentioning that we’d met once before. Again, I am sure, I seemed like a very, very weird chica.

Back then, I had wondered if I owed him a favor from a past life, or something.

Who knows? Maybe without consciously realizing it, or really getting a good look at him before I pulled over, my girlie brain was like, hey, long-haired guy in distress. Must. Pull. Over.

That sounds like me, alright.

I have experienced before, feeling attraction blooming without even first turning around to look at someone. Pheromones? Scent? Vibes?

I never had any conscious intent to hit on him, but from what I remember, he was a pretty guy.

I wonder if they’re still together? I hope he worked his shit out, whatever it was.

Who doesn’t love a rockstar bad boi type? Clearly, I am NOT immune. Loved one, myself, for a VERY long time, and have since written some pretty “smexy” rockstar characters.

One of them, Nyven Ash from Smoke and Crows, a hetero guy in a writing group professed he wanted to read any spicy scenes next time, just to see what it would be like to sleep with him, secondhand. And everyone wanted to know who inspired him.

Meh. Just two of my fave partners, mashed together, and further idealized to the nth degree.

My heart may have gone through the wringer many, many, MANY times, but I have had some pretty loves. Vain enough to be proud of that.

AW… “Silent Lucidity.” Possibly the most beautiful hair band ballad ever written.

I think we’ll leave it at that, for tonight.

Dare I dedicate this post to all the ones I’ve loved before?

I suppose I could.

But I think instead, or maybe in addition to, I’d like to express ENDLESS gratitude to all the music artists (and by extension, artists in general) who have seen me through some very dark days, indeed.

There is so much grace and beauty in the arts, even casual, “bad” art, or art that’s called “plastic” or “shallow.” Engaging with that energy. It’s a good thing.

Just… thank you.

Never stop never stopping.