February 12th, 2010 by Cy

My Bodaciously Beautiful friend Janey, (aka @CitizenJaney) from Confessions of a Middle Aged Suburban Diva started a new, weekly, blogging feature she entitles: Being Bodacious.

Janey’s weekly ‘Being Bodacious’ is all about women, finding and revealing the best parts of themselves. In Janey’s words: I’m a huge proponent and fan of my gender. I do volunteer work with my gender. I support causes affecting my gender. I genuinely (most of the time) like my gender.

We chicks really do have it going on.

However (and you had to know that was coming)… we women are unnecessarily hard and unsupportive of each other. And in turn, ourselves. It’s partly our nature (Hey! I can say that because I am a girlie), partly our environment and partly who else knows what. We women spend – no, we waste – time being contrary to one another, either directly or indirectly when that time and energy could be better spend doing something constructive. Life’s tough enough without adding any extra unnecessary angst.

Whew.

Does that make sense? It can get a little heady up here on my soap box.

In an attempt to make a small positive difference for my gender, I’ve decided to host a weekly self-celebration for us girls. Yes, it’s a meme. But it’s a meme with a purpose.

We’re going to spend time once a week Being Bodacious.

I’ll throw out a topic for discussion and exposition – something that will be thoughtful and insightful, a little funny (c’mon – it’s goofy me helming this after all) and completely constructive, celebratory and creative.

What an outstanding idea, and one I adore. This week, is Chapter 2 in the Being Bodacious weekly feature. This week, Janey asks “So, my bodacious sistahs – this week, we all want to know what your personal theme song is… and why you chose it. Why it speaks to you and for you. How it makes you feel?”

**blink…. blink**

Janey asks the tough questions, doesn’t she? That’s why I love her so! Janey says; “A theme song should serve a couple of purposes, the way I see it. First, it should be a song YOU love. Not like, not tolerate, not think is just so-so. LOVE.

Second, it should be a song whose lyrics – and even the melody – should represent some part, some essence of you.

A song that makes you feel good.

Gives you confidence.

Lifts your spirits.

Highlights your bodaciousness….”

Okay Janey, you asked for it, so here goes:

There was no choosing a song for me. Since 1993, when my song was released, it has been more then a theme song, it’s been my Life Song.  In  1993 my son was 5 years old. Wise beyond his years, he remarked to me after seeing the movie in which this song was the Theme Song for; “Momma that’s a life song.”

“Whaddya mean Lil Man Tate?” (My personal nickname for my oldest son was Lil Man Tate)

He studied the road I was driving down and nodded. “It’s a song that fits everybody’s life Momma….” he announced before begining to sing the lyrics loudly. As I watched my little tow head bouncing in the seat, clapping his hands and really getting into the music, I couldn’t help but smile.

“If every person everywhere thought of this song and treated others while knowing we all sing this song in our hearts…. we’d be better peoples Momma.” He blurted out.

I was stunned by his brilliant observation. My son was correct. **If** I would live my life, always remembering with each and every interaction I had with another person, the message of this song…..

So for this week’s Being Bodacious challange, I share that song.  This song doesn’t just represent “ME”. In my eyes, in my life, I always hear this song and know in my heart that each and every person feels like this at some point. We all cry out, even if silently for another to understand us, help us, be there for us. And because I try daily, to keep this song’s feelings forefront in my mind as I meet and interact with people, I can honestly say…… I carry each of you with me every.single.day.

I hope, before I post this song, you get out your earbuds/headphones/ or turn on your speakers. I dare you to turn up your volume, and clap…….. even sing along. Let it lift you up, as it always has lifted me. And remember, not only is this my Theme song, it’s my Life Song. Yes, it refelcts my questions to the Universe, but it also reflects how I try to let those people in my life know one thing:

“I’ll Never Let You Part
For You’re Always In My Heart.”

My Being Bodacious Theme/Life Song:

Will You Be There – Michael Jackson

Will You Be There lyrics

[Spoken]
In Our Darkest Hour
In My Deepest Despair
Will You Still Care?
Will You Be There?
In My Trials
And My Tripulations
Through Our Doubts
And Frustrations
In My Violence
In My Turbulence
Through My Fear
And My Confessions
In My Anguish And My Pain
Through My Joy And My Sorrow
In The Promise Of Another Tomorrow
I’ll Never Let You Part
For You’re Always In My Heart.

Thanks Janey for such an excellent challenge. I love you!

Being Bodacious, CitizenJaney, Why Not - Right?

February 10th, 2010 by Cy

I think…. I want to shop.

o_o

O_O

Can you believe that? me? Cylithria? Wanting to Shop? It is unheard of folks. Completely, utterly, totally unheard of….. and yet…. all flippen day I have sat stunned (and horrified) by the fact that I have an urge to shop!

I don’t have a single, smidgen of a clue what I would shop for. Honestly….. if I sit and try to envision what it is I want to buy, nothing comes to mind. Not a single thing.  And yet I WANT TO SHOP.

I don’t want to shop online. Hell – I don’t know where I want to shop, because I don’t know WHAT I want to shop for….. but by fucking gawd, I wanna shop.

I think I’m dyin.

I think I lost my rabbitassed mind.

I think……… I wanna shop! o_O

(Somebody weep for me, my soul must have ceased being.)

Losing my mind, Shopping, Why Not - Right?

February 5th, 2010 by Cy

Cylithria slowly walks two steps into her blog. Glancing down the un-updated page, she sighs and turns to leave.

“Hi Cylithria,” a voice calls softly.

Cylithria turns. Her eyes turn upwards, her lips curl into a fond, gentle smile. “Hi Little Plant of Hope.” she says before slowly walking across the dusty space that is her blog. Just below the tag line words, “call to duty…” She slows her stride. Slowly, carefully she lowers herself into the inky darkness of her blogs heading. Sitting beside the Little Plant of Hope firmly rooted in the right hand corner, Cylithria gently draws her knees to her chest, crosses her arms over her knees and lays her cheek down so she can look at the little plant.

“Long time no see,” the little plant remarks.

Cylithria smiles sadly. ”Yes, it has been a while – hasn’t it?” she whispers.

For a moment, Cylithria and the handheld Little Plant of Hope sit in silence. It’s an easy silence. The silence of long time friends who’ve been through a lot.

Cylithria stares at the tiny plant nestled in two gentle, cradling hands. Small sprinkles of dirt slip down and land upon Cylithria’s foot. Her smile broadens.

“You were moving slowly when you came in.”  The tiny plant says.

Cylithria nods. “Apparently I have a broken leg.”

“Apparently?”

Cylithria softly snorts, then nods. “Yep. or so they say. It was bugging me, for a few weeks. Doc had me brace it thinking it was knee trouble, but that didn’t really help. couple weeks ago, Doc had the local’s x-ray it…. was looking for possible torn from the bone tendons or something…. they called me this week…. apparently it is a hairline or stress fracture in my  tibia…. from here, to about here,” She explains as she draws an invisible line down the front of her right leg.

“No crutches or cast?” The tiny plant wonders aloud.

Cylithria sighs and rests her chin upon her forearms. “No, not yet. They don’t know what they wanna do. The consultants are consulting with the consultations… or something….” She shrugs.

“Let me guess,” the little plant says in a humorous voice; “You don’t know how you broke it, do you?”

Cylithria finally laughs. “Do I ever?”

Both old friends chuckle. Rarely does she know how she got hurt, pretty typical for Cylithria.

As the silence returns, the Little Plant of Hope gently watches his author friend. In a voice soft and supportive, The Little Plant prods her further. “It must hurt… is that why you’ve been so silent lately?”

Cylithria shakes her head no, then raises her head and nods it. “No…. I mean, yeah… it hurts at times….. nothing I can’t handle though…..but it’s not why I’ve been quiet.”

Cylithria sighs. Then shrugs.

“I know you have things you want to say…. you come here everyday and look. I see you.” The Little Plant offers. Cylithria smiles like a child whose been caught.

“I do come here everyday, and I probably do have things to say…but…..”  Cylithria glances down the page of her blog. Sadness fills her eyes.

“But?” her old friend presses. “Is it me? Are you tired of me?”

Cylithria snickers. “No….. it’s not you…. not at all.” She promises. Shifting slightly, she looks at the Little Plant and tries to explain. “I love my blog. I love blogging….. but lately……” She sighes. The sad streaks fill her eyes. ”I’ve always come here to purge my thoughts, or feelings…. or even my stories…. that’s why I’ve been here daily….. just because when able, I’ve always come here.”

“But when you’ve come before, you’ve written. Even if but to save it in draft, you’ve written. Lately you just come, look for a moment and leave. You haven’t written.” The Little Plant remarks.

Cylithria plops her chin back on her forearms. “I can’t write…. it will upset somebody.” She declares in defeat.

“Who?”

Cylithria shakes her head ever so slightly. “I don’t know who…..” she says in disgust. She looks bewildered, almost amazed as her voice softly streams across her blog. “Whoever wants to feel that my latest blog entry is about them…..” She shrugs. “I guess???”

The Little Plant pauses to consider what she’s said. It isn’t quite making sense to the tiny green friend, so he tries to clarify it. “If you don’t know who, how do you know they are feeling that way? I don’t understand Cylithria?”

Cylithria nods. “I know….. I never know who is going to be affected…. but lately, if i post anything remotely personal, about me, my feelings, my plans or lack thereof, someone who reads this blogs instantly thinks I am speaking somehow about THEM. Then they either comment or email…. all paranoid that I was talking about them. And if I don’t reply immediately, they email again, or text, OR CALL!!!”

Cylithria’s hands suddenly fly out before her knees. She becomes animated. “It’s like all of a sudden, if i say I spoke to someone today who was a prick…. everyone I know starts wondering if I mean THEY are the prick…… even if I didn’t speak to them today!!! It’s fucking……” her hands drop down to her knees and instantly the animated woman becomes lethargic once more. “It’s just…..so….crazy.” She says just as she lies her cheek upon her crossed forearms.

The Little Plant was a bit shocked. “People actually contact you about a blog post, thinking perhaps you were speaking of them?” he asks.

“YES!!!!” Cylithria yelps as she looks at her old friend. “Can you believe that? Isn’t that crazy? And every time it happens, I stare like this,” Cylithria’s eyes grow wide and her mouth drops down to her knees for a moment. “And I think….. REALLY??? REALLY??”

The Little Plant watches as she once more throws frustrated hands into the air. Rolling her eyes, she begins shaking her head slowly, negatively. “Why write jackdoodlyshit if every Tom, Dick, and Harry is going to email, call, text, or message me, suddenly paranoid I am blogging part of their life????”

If the Little Plant had lips, he’d have been smiling. Sometimes his author friend is so funny, in an over-dramatic sort of way. Instead, The Little Plant watches as Cylithria settles back into a restful position.

“What does @TheWocket say?” The Little Plant asks quietly.

Cylithria shrugs. “He says I should just blog what I want.” She pauses. “Of course he isn’t running around trying to ‘figure me out’ either…..” Another shrug. Another would have been smile.

Deciding it was time to slightly shift gears, The Little Plant pauses long enough for Cylithria’s posture to once again relax. “How is @TheWocket doing?”

Cylithria smiles. “He’s…..okay….”

“You say that with some reticence in your voice. Is he okay?” The Little Plant pushes.

Cylithria still wears a smile, albeit a tiny one. “He is okay….. there is a lot going on….. and it’s been crazy….but he is okay.”

“You don’t speak about him much here, unless you are speaking of all your Kansas City friends. Why is that?”

Cylithria’s sad smile returns. “Honestly?” She asks her Little Plant friend. “Because I am tired of the talk, the suppositions, the rumors, the whole,” She flips and wiggles her fingers around in the air; “whooooooooo that goes on about @TheWocket and I.”

The Little Plant watches her closely. “The whooooo?” he asks, mimicking her tone of voice as she’d said it. Cylithria nods.

“Oh yeah, the whooo!” she declares firmly. Her eyes roll and she shakes her head. “I can’t explain it, I just know I keep getting hit with some version of stuff with regards to @TheWocket and everytime I do I am like……….. eh?”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, like reccently I was told how I am running his life!” Cylithria blurts out.

“You are?” The Little Plant repeated.

Cylithria nodded while bearing a disgusted look. “Yep, apparently…. because you know the man has no brain of his own….. he can’t possibly take care of himself or his business without me…. dontcha know….. I mean…..” Cylithria snorts. More eye rolling.

“Why do people do that?” She looked over at her Little Plant of Hope and took a deep breath. “Why do people assume that because I am around, the person in question must have fallen under my evil ploys allowing me to run their life?”

“Perhaps because you are strong?” The Little Plant of Hope offered.

“And @TheWocket isn’t?” She countered angrily.

The Little Plant stared down her angry glare. “Yes, he is. What I meant to say is, perhaps because your support of those you care for is strong…thus they feel you are the catalyst for someone’s decisions?”

“Well, isn’t that what you are supposed to do…. strongly support someone you love?”

“Yes, yes it is.” The Little Plant conceded.

Cylithria nodded. Slowly her hands rubbed at her right leg. “Well it burns my ass. I run his life, yada yada yada……as if anyone could run that man’s life anyway. SweetJavaJesus he is more stubborn then I am….. he just conceals it better!”

The Little Plant of Hope watched her. She shook her head, shook it again and then ran her fingers through her hair before finally settling down.

“I guess I don’t care what they think about me…. at all….. but the fact that they think he’d be so pussified as to let me or any other woman run his life…….. THAT pisses me off!” Cylithria glanced at the tiny plant and her eyes twinkled finally. “I hate it when people don’t give someone credit for their own being.”

“So you keep quiet about him, to protect him.” The Little Plant surmised.

“Yep.” Cylithria smiled. “I guess I do.”

The two friends sat in silence once more. As peace fluttered down upon them, Cylithria returned to her gazing position; her cheek resting on her forearms once more.

Suddenly her eyes lit up. “I’ve missed this place…. and I’ve missed you Little Plant of Hope……”

Sprinkles of dirt fell upon her toes. Cylithria’s smile widened. “I made a good choice when I chose you.” She confessed to her tiny plant friend.

“I’ve missed you too Cylithria. You should come by more often. Even if it’s just to chat with me.” The Little Plant of Hope offered quietly. “It’s too quiet around here without you.”

Cylithria laughed, loudly. “Uh…. that’s probably because I do the writing and you do the….uh……plant…..thing.”

The Little Plant of Hope didn’t move. It didn’t speak, and it didn’t even acknowledge her presence. All of a sudden, what moments before had been the spirit of a good friend, was now just a picture of a little plant, rooted firmly in the dirt held by cradling hands.

Cylithria blinked, and then blinked again.

“Oh Great!!!! Isn’t this just randy…” Cylithria uttered woefully as she slowly stood to her feet. Brushing the dust off her black pants, she looked around sheepishly. “Damn….. ain’t I glad no one spotted me talking to a plant picture……. they’d think me nuts… eh?”

Cylithria stared at the Little Plant of Hope. “Eh?…….Eh?….”

Glancing about once more, Cylithria shook her head, this time at herself. “I’ve lost my rabbitass mind!” She muttered as she slipped away, unnoticed by the blogging world.

Then, and only then; did one finger from one of the cradling hands move. “Ya want me to push the Publish button right boss????”

Sprinkles of dirt sifted to the empty floor beneath the hands as the Little Plant of Hope said only three words, “Why Not – Right?”

@cylithria, life, Little Plant of Hope, Why Not - Right?

January 21st, 2010 by Cy

I’ve been trying to maintain that 2010 would be a W00t-o’licious year for me. I started mandating in my mind that it would be Woot-o’licious somewhere in November of the previous year. 2009 was a bear. 2010 had to be better.

The photograph you see to the side was taken by me in January 2010 during the Sub-Zero winter blast we had here in Kansas City, MO. It was taken on the front porch of the J3P house – where I live.

I call this house the J3P house simply because that is what it is. 3 men own this house. J#1 (@MrLongestPenisNameEvar), J#2 (@TheHufford), and P (@TheWocket) are the homes owners. J#3 (@EvilCutie) is the girlfriend/mate of J#2.

If you take the 3 J’s of the three real life names and add them with the P real life name, you come up with The J3P House. Or as I affectionately call it, The House of Men.

Living at the J3P house has been good for me health wise. And as I battle onward for healthy control over my body, I mentally geared up for this to be the Woot-o’licious year.

Some people have questioned my stay in Kansas City, MO. There are some who actually think my being back ‘where you belong’ would be better for me. Some people question whether or not I am wise to be at The J3P House at all…… but mother nature, in all her glory showed me that in fact…….. The J3P house is exactly where I need to be…… I mean look, she even provided me photgraphic proof.

A Sub-Zero, Snow Schlong!!!

Now before you start sending me hatemail, telling me that the above photographed Sub-Zero Snow Schlong is not, in fact; made of snow – but ice….. I know that!! obviously it is made of ice! Duh!!  But I dare you to be brave enough to actually say the words: “Sub-Zero Snow Schlong” aloud.   Go on…………… I’ll wait!

SEE!!!!  Saying “Sub-Zero Snow Schlong” is far superior to saying ‘Sub-zero ice schlong’, isn’t it???

Oh yeah, it is!

I wanted a picture with the menfolk of the J3P house and the Sub-Zero Snow Schlong together, but their Sexy Hawtness would have melted the Sub-Zero, Snow Schlong….. so alas, we only have a shot of The Sub-Zero, Snow Schlong itself.

Now I don’t know about you folks, but I tend to be a nature girl. When mother nature talks, I listen to the best of my abilities. And when Mother Nature provides you a Sub-Zero, Snow Schlong at The J3P House of Men…………. it’s a sign!!!  It means that 2010 really *IS* going to be a Woot-o’licious year!

I mean after all, you simply can not argue with a Sub-Zero Snow Schlong —- can you?

2010 is Woot-O’licious!

Why Not – Right?

J3P House, Sub-Zero Snow Schlong, Why Not - Right?, Woot-O'licious

January 19th, 2010 by Cy

Wow. Today I had a conversation with someone. It was in depth. Heartfelt. Potent. The conversation has left me… I am now questioning things. Massively. I am stunned. My words, my thoughts, my heart – it’s all torn.

It isn’t lack of understanding that has left me feeling this way. I understand. Clearly. The conversation made perfect, altruistic sense. It had viable merit. Stability in it’s lines of thought. Very, very potent.

I’ve been purposely away from online forms of communication. Blogs, Social Networks, Text messaging – all of these have been kept to a minimal by myself lately. I’ve been dealing with identity theft. I felt my silence was necessary as we dealt with the onslaught.

I looked forward to the conversation today. Although I never mind silence, or being “alone” for a time; I do enjoy sharing life with friends, loved ones.

I simply didn’t expect this conversation today and now I almost regret it occurred. It has left me on unstable ground. It has exposed things, or suggested things that I wasn’t expecting. At times it was cruel. Not purposely, but cruel nonetheless.

Now I sit dreading the witching hour. (Midnight). I sit, unsure, hurting, and I believe – potentially speechless. If I were silent or MIA before, I most certainly will be now, until I process today’s conversation, my views on it, and my path stemming from it.

I’m Torn.

silent, torn, Why Not - Right?