Sunday, Apr. 17, 2005 - 12:14 a.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
OK, I am going to put an edited version of my reply to about the onion tattoo... since it seems some who know my relationship history are thinking in narrower terms than I was... This way I won't have to explain again. So... here it is, pretty much vebatim:
ahhh, but you probably get the ob reference, ie refering to one particular relationship/person.
Me it is more. It is remembering not another failure, but rather refusing to take on all the parts that went wrong, but rather celebrating the part of myself, which I realize has been evident over and over, which I forget about, that I love.
It is the part of me that makes people feel comfortable to open up to me and let me see the real them, the inner non-public-persona them. I think of the guy who told me he wanted to avenge his father's death, and I said I understood, and he said "thankyou...everyone just tells me I am too angry and insane, you are the only one who gets how I feel, which isn't what I necessarily will do".
And the woman who told me about being molested when she was a child and teenager, all her hurt and anger, and who kept saying "i don't know why I am letting you in and telling you all this."
The crossdresser at the T O Kink playparty last year who sat down with me for hours and answered probing personal questions... and someone else there said later "you should have seen, everyone else was using inplements to whack eachother from a distance, and you were eye to eye with someone having an intimate intense discussion for hours".
It is the part of me that is honest and real and invites others to be honest and real. The part of me who accepts without judging (and really I can be horribly judgmental and ranting)... and that comes through so that people will get naked with me when they hate their bodies, will speak to me about hurting or fear, anger or embarassment.
The part of me that doesn't betray trust, talk too much or is indiscrete.
Also, an onion is cool. When cut it makes you cry, but it can enhance almost any meal. Cooked with an even heat all the acid turns to sugar and it is sweet and savory.
It is a storehouse of energy that will withstand winter and send up shoots in the spring. A bulb that can be kept in the dark but will go green again and flower in the sun. That can be uprooted and replanted with no damage.
So, I think you are not knowing all of what it means to me, but only thinking it is like a tattoo of a name like making a heart that says "mary". It goes so beyond that failure to reminding myself to value the depth of my interpersonal successes.
And it feels real personal to tell, and sounds so trite, so I don't often try to say.
To see the onion, click here.
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Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily