Dinner Date with the Stars

If I were going to throw a beautifully organized dinner party, for any five historical dead figures, they would be as follows:
1) Princess Leia, hands down the most bada**, capable female lead character I've ever seen on film. I mean, she choked Jabba with the chain he had her tethered to him with. Girl be what I like to call a roll model. (And yes, I'm counting her as a 'historical' figure)
2&3) Sofia Tolstaya and Leo Tolstoy: Tolstoy has always been a hero of mine, and I recently finished reading War and Peace. Did you know that Sofia was scribe for him on that weighty tome, and copied it out, by hand, a total of seven times. That's true love! Tolstoy's depiction of marriage, and love, in W&P, gave me one of those moments, where like, a little piece of emptiness opens up inside my chest, so that I can start to fill it with new emotions and feelings, after experiencing something so enlightening. But, if you've seen the Last Station, you know that their marriage had its down side. They'd be perfect to see in real life.
4) Hans Christian Andersen: That dude be a freak, and I like it. His stories are so twisted and beautiful. He had to be pretty nuteriffic in person. Wikipedia tells me this:  Shortly before his death, he had consulted a composer about the music for his funeral, saying: "Most of the people who will walk after me will be children, so make the beat keep time with little steps." Moribundus; I can dig it. And yes, I already have the music picked out for my funeral; I'm going to be lowered into the ground as the song 'Blinded by the Light' is blared.
5) Cleopatra: Not original, I know, but the reality behind her story that is so constantly repressed by modern depictions is fascinating. You know, the not actually being Egyptian, her real political ingenuity, and ruthlessness. Since studying her as a young child, (along with my obsession for paranormal phenomena there is a close second for ancient cultures, I mean come on, the egyptians swirled brains around with a stick, and drained it out your nose!) I combined my love of paranormal and egyptology, and fancied myself the reincarnation of Cleopatra. It explains my love of power, and seducing men by rolling out of carpets.


Bon Appetit!

Is It You?

If you think time is linear, then you're a fool.
My heart beats hollow sometimes, there's a trap door there.
It leads to the past, which, I constantly think about becoming my future.
It takes me under you, around you, through you;
But never to you.

There is no such thing as 'space'.
The distance between us is always the same.
It fits half way across the world, and in between old embraces.
If you called me there, I would already be THERE;
But will you?

There is a difference between joy and contentment.
I will have one without you, but not the other.
One can live a whole life with a smile on their face,
For a memory that isn't there.
It is you.

Howdy y'all!

Well, I'm sure that was a refreshing break for you all; unless you started following me on my newly minted instagram account, and if so....suckas! But, I think I could be back to the blog with a little consistency, perhaps. Haha, that sounds very convincing doesn't it?

Texas is....Texas. We're trying hard to settle in, and that's all you can do, correctamundo? Loving the sun, the hip hop music on the radio, and of course, the Mexican food. Vida is having a little relapse of her kidney disorder, that we're having a harder time getting under control than we have previously. Prayers and kind thoughts directed her way always help in my own, very earnest, personal, opinion.

Let's start with something silly, shall we? For the last year or so I've been feeling less like myself, for you see, the me I knew firmly shut the door behind herself. And it all has to do with a name, and the hair. I used to have beautiful hair, and a beautiful name. Not anymore compadres, and don't way one word otherwise, this is my sob story ya hear!? All growing up, I rarely ran into anyone named Olivia, never attended a school with another one, and I rather got to liking that original factor of my nomenclature. BUT NOW I'M A DIME A DOZEN!!! I heard a radio announcer the other day tell people not to name there kids Olivia, because they'd become the Ashely of their generation. Oh no, I'm an Ashley. No offense, Ashley; which one of you, you ask? Oh, I mean you Ashley, or you, Ashleigh, or you, Aeshlee, or you, Aschlea. NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Wailing and gnashing, I was original with an original name, and now I whip my head around at the park to every three year olds command from their mom. And to top it all off, the straight hair epademic. Each one of my tiny, curly hair soldiers has fallen down flat on the floor. Rest in peace curly hair. Where did you go? How do I use a curling iron? What is this nonsense about it mattering what your haircut really looks like? Someone save me from this hell I'm living in.

Ok, this was funny at first, but now it's kinda whiny, so long story short: I used to have a beautiful name, and beautiful lustrous curls, and now I am bereft of both. So I'm changing my name, and getting a perm. I shall from here on out be called Zarahemla Fae Lyons and I'll be rockin a sweet jheri curl.

Like this:

Ain't nobody mess with Zarahemla!

Moving On

Soooooo I mentioned that we're moving to Texas, yes? Well for those of you in the day to day circle, we said end of Feb, then beginning of March, then mid----we were so set on between the 18-22. Humph, freaking plans.

Brandon's visa required a visit to the US consulate. They immigration lawyers, and the consulate papers  said once you've had your interview, and they TAKE YOUR FRAKIN PASSPORT AND YOU PAY THE FLIPPIN FEES, that you're visa should come in 3-5 days later. B's appointment was on the 4th....no visa still. And of course the bureaucrats never give an explanation. So I sit here in my partially packed, partially cleaned house waiting. Brandon and I are anxious, ready to go; ready to adjust to the heat before it's 95 deg everyday. So send you're good juju our way....alas, I suppose, what will be will be.

On the somewhat crappy brightside: Someone smashed in B's truck window last night to steal his wallet. They left his Oakley sunglasses, his hockey skates (which someone in Canada would steal), and a G Star jacket. He came inside to call the bank to cancel his cards, whilst I went out to do some detective work. From my sherlock like detections I deduced that they were probably druggies looking for cash, since they left the other stuff. Using what I've gleaned from books, and made for TV movies, small time criminals usually throw the wallet away. I was hoping to just find his temple recommend, and maybe his license. So I checked the neighbor's on the right trash can.... no dice. Started hittin the streets ( uh huh, just wrote that) to the left, and discover Royce's smashed inhaler in the street!! Told you it was tweekers.....kept walking and found B's wallet and ALL the contents strewn down the gutter two houses down. Super cool, criminals. Thanks....I guess?

Also, the real estate agent told B that he had to come by to look at something today, unbeknownst to me. He rang and knocked, and I was like, "whatevs, I'm chillin' in the tub with the kids, can't hear nothin', son," when all of a sudden my garage door opens. That's right just use my code, walk into my house and say whutsup while I'm nakey in the bath. At least it wasn't the robbers.


I put clothes on before I came downstairs.

I'll keep you posted.

Dreams Hormones Abstract Nature of Life

I've been having these dreams all week. 

They are not nice dreams; they are the kind of dreams that make me wake up feeling that I'm still in them. 

The kind of dreams that make me feel like my subconscious is srsly trippin'.

 "What are you trying to tell me Brain?", I say. But, I know, and sometimes I cry; it's been a while since I've cried like this. 

And then I pray. I pray to feel comfort, to feel worthy, to feel loved. I pray that I will let go of the things that haunt me.

I'm not talking about large crazy things, no Lady Macbeth washing and wringing here, no I'm talking about the same stuff that haunts you.

The little things. The tiny, in the cosmic sense of the way, mishaps, misshapes, meanderings down what ifs? stored deep in every cell of your body. 

How do we scrub them clean?

How do we see the real world?

I know I have some answers; but sometimes don't you just like to ask the question, and let it stand there for a while?

 Alone

(segue) 

And what's up with hormones!?! Goodness gracious, in case you didn't know, this is a hormone induced lucidness. 

I mean really, we walk around all the time trying to pretend that our hormones don't rule much of what we do. I'm all for free will, but when a crazy cocktail of enhancing, dancing, dipping, damaged by GMO's, bubbles flow constantly through my body and the electrical impulses between, I think we should give them their fair share of recognition.

Instead we kind of laugh,

 ESPECIALLY AT WOMEN!!!!! 

"Oh, PMS time," snicker, snicker.

She grows, she gestates, she births, she ages, she breastfeeds, she tries to find her normal, but the hormones, they keep, keep, keep on a changin'.

Sista, there's a universe inside of you. A constantly changing house that grows, that nurtures, that saves the you inside for last as it spirals out. Be proud, and don't be afraid to point out that you are tired, that you have bad dreams, that you need a break from holding up all the stars. 

And it's all the damn hormones.

WUVE

The other day Brandon and I went to the new Calgary temple. For those who aren't LDS, you can read about why we build temples here. I love the temple, but it's really hard (for me at least), to go frequently...or basically at all, when I'm in the pregnant/birth/breastfeed kid till they're 5/ toddler stage. So we were grateful to Brandon's mom for watching the kids so we could go one Saturday. But....of course we got lost on the way, partially my fault/ stupid i phone/ I think it should have just been common sense... which resulted in heated heads and loud but not overly angry per se words. We got there right as the session started. Lame. No Game. But!!!!! There is a silver lining, we decided to do sealings instead of an endowment session. Sealings are like renewing your wedding vows over and over, whilst holding hands and staring into your lovers eyes! So we came out happy again, and ready to rock and roll. 

The temple helps Brandon and I to feel together; it is where we work even harder at becoming one. The temple softens our hearts, and opens our minds, to the endless possibilities that come from two constantly changing people who've chosen to bind themselves together for time and all eternity (AT the rip old age 20 AND 23!?!) And the spirit there instills in us the peace to make those decisions that lead us to become the people that go beyond the definition of who we even think we can be, like zombies. Just kidding, but it's like super cool, at least. Love B, love the temple, love my life.

wah wah

You know what's super awesome!? Everyday now, I wake up, check my email, and it says "new comment on beatific ponderances, " and I think, "whohoo, someone loves me," and then I check it, and it's spam. Thanks a lot spam for ruining my life, and how do I get rid of these spammers!!!

And now for Royce, my man:

Dracula sheds a tear

cheeks for days!!!!

Heeeeeeeellllllllo

look at my nice butt back there...

leather jacket, purple pants, 'nough  said

 cracker

gussied up for church

good.night.