Dear Bob Dylan:

Who are you and why do I even care?

On a day in and day out basis; I really don’t.

Dig deep and…I still don’t care.

Dig deeper yet; way down.

Do I really not care?

Nope, I really don’t.

I love that you were a part of my life.

Was my love bequeathed to you because of the words you chose to speak, or the voice that you used to speak them with?

Maybe that is all I ever had of you; your words, your songs.

It all gets lost in the illusion of life.

I can read about you or watch you on a movie and become impassioned by you.

Does this mean I care? I’d like to think I am that warm person that cares, but I really don’t radiate that deep.

There is not that much depth inside me to care.

It sounds so cold doesn’t it. The truth of ones morality is often too chilling to take so we warm it up all over with gooey warm butter and syrup dripping all about.

So why would I take the time to write this what-ever-you-call-it?

Emotions move through me constantly.

I watch a movie; emotions stir.

I read a book; emotions stir.

I take a stroll; emotions stir.

Emotions that like to get the attention of seeing themselves on a piece of paper. Call the emotion “Ego Within”.

My ego is continually rising high with a vast calling to be heard by many.

Will anyone read this? Probably not.

Does my ego know this? It pretends it doesn’t.

It pretends many care.

It makes up a pretend world with pretend people that want to know what I have to say, that need ‘what I have to say’ to make their life complete.

Even if there were many people that thought they cared what I said, so what. One minute they care the next they spit on you. (…not literally)

It is all fleeting because like me, they don’t really know what is going on inside themselves or outside in the world. They may think they touch on the core of who they are. They might think, “Wow, so this is who I am.” Then, in a flash, some drama happens and that confidence is stripped away leaving them feeling raw and vulnerable with the words “who am I?” headlining their minds.

So I write this to say, hey I care for you.

For this immediate second I care.

Really I do!!!!!!!

Really is so real that in the next second I may not even think about you.

The cell phone rings and you no longer exist. Oh sure, at some point you may become a flash again in my world but who’s really watching.

I sit the phone down and look at this piece of paper. I have already forgotten what I wrote. I read the page again and remember it all from a completely new perspective.

Is it the most poetic perspective I am capable of? Hell, I have no idea. I am lucky if my mind can even remember why I wrote the last word.

I dig deep. How deep, you may wonder, does it take to write something down that will change the world?

I have no fucking idea. (Oh no, anger issues!)

Let’s say you care. Reality check, lets say you think for this second that you really care.

Then for that second we transcend everything that is “normal” in this world. For one-second we connect. In that second we truly connect if we understand it is insignificant within the realm of reality.

It is so significant in the outer realm of reality that I want to call that reality home.

I want to have that be my home that I return to more often than any other.

Like when you go to college and your family leaves your bedroom exactly like you left it. They even call it ‘Jeanie’s bedroom.’ I go out into the world and see and feel many different things but I always return to that house and close the door behind me sinking into my bed while releasing a deep sigh. That is the home where I want to put that abstruse essence of understanding; the understanding you know you have no way of ever putting words to.

Is there really still a bedroom out their with the name ‘Jeanie’s bedroom’ on it? Not on this physical plane they call Earth but definitely in another dimension, even if that dimension is just the mere imagination of my mind.

Remember me Bob? You sang a song in my bedroom while I played the guitar. We laughed as we drew pictures of marijuana leaves in an oil palate that covered the rainbow. I cared deeply for you then.

In that dimension of my reality.

In that world.

Ag class-High School-1977 and 1978

Mr Scott was my teacher. We had it two periods a day in the greenhouse next to the school. I was the only girl. Boy did I get lots of attention. Not flirty attention. They would not dare. At first it was “Are you kidding me” attention then it turned to “it’s kind of interesting to have the opposite sex really get into growing plants and hanging out with us” type attention. We were buddies and shared a common bond. I loved the way Mr Scott respected all of us. He was a kind man that seemed to care.

I use to tell everyone I was going to travel the country while living in a van. everyone just kind of laughed.

Once I finished two years of college in a technical school for agriculture, I did just that.

I met a guy who fixed up his van into a traveling home, shag carpet and all.

sailing Key West

We would go to Key West every winter and work then travel back up north for the summer.

I loved it.

More on this in future post.

This is a post for those of you that do not immunize but want to go to college.

All Colleges in the United States have to offer an exemption form of some sort.

This is one for University of Central Florida.

Requests for a religious exemption from immunizations must follow 232.032 of Florida Statues.

If you have a religious exemption form from the health department or your religious institution please submit that along with our exemption form.

Attached you will find the UCF Health Center Religious Exemption Form. Please complete this form either here in our office where we can witness your signature, OR submit a notarized form to us via mail.

This is what form looks like

Religious Exemption Form

The University of Central Florida’s Immunization Policy offers this form of Religious Exemption for students choosing to decline immunization based on their religious beliefs and/or practices. Please complete this form prior to Orientation.

I affirm and attest that my personally held religious beliefs and/or practices preclude me from receiving immunization, including the immunization(s) required by Florida Administrative Code 6C-6.001 (5), Florida Statute 1006.69 and the University of Central Florida (UCF) Immunization Policy prior to enrollment in classes and/or residing in on-campus housing.

I have read University of Central Florida Immunization Policy and I understand the risks associated with failing to be immunized, however, I request exemption from these requirements. I also understand that I will be excluded from attending classes or other campus activities on the University of Central Florida campus for the duration of a public health emergency involving a disease that is preventable by one of the required vaccines until such time as is specified by the Orange County Health Department director or the Director of UCF Health Services.

I agree that I shall be solely responsible for any costs associated with my exclusion from classes or university activities.

I will not be offered any other vaccines that are currently available or may become available. Electing to receive other vaccines such as those required for foreign travel or study abroad will negate my religious exemption status.

by Starr

Everything ugly sticks out before my flow with the waxing moon and I seek refuge.

That is the state of pms

I want to be guarded from the ugly. And soothed gently with love and words of comfort that argue my darkness my insanity. That seems too much to ask. So I should simply run and hide with my fear and demons.

Then I will raise my head in a few days with cramps keeping me grounded and earthly as can be, my heavy flow that now as I age dictates staying inside while the moon is full.

Seems the wisdom of age is tempered with the bodies frailties does it not?

After this week I am fierce, positive and can do anything especially love and make babies .

Maybe not perfect ones anymore.

This is the ebb and flow of my body as perfect as God made the design I must learn to embrace all that it is.

Poem written by Starr

“To know how to grow old is the master-work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult chapters in the great art of living.”

— Henri Amiel

Acacia has a  Daily Workout

This one is Shiva Rae doing a beautiful Water Sun Salutation. It last almost 10 min.

It is so beautiful and healing. Try it out.

Link: http://gotaf.socialtwist.com/redirect?l=343331521582018115721

A short play by me

Mother cutting sons hair.

”You know your mothers crazy.” say’s mother

“You talking about Granma?” son says, not moving.

“I mean your mother.” Mother repeats as she gets out the scissors to trim the rough edges.

“I know.” Son says after a timid pause,

Then mother calmly says, “I have to live a crazy life to survive my craziness. I can’t be living this normal life, it makes me crazy. Living in suburbia. Doing the same old things they do in suburbia like shop and go to the movies and eat out all the time.”

“That’s what your doing now,” son says while staring in the mirror to keep a watchful eye.

”I know, and it’s driving me crazy.

I need to live my crazy life so I feel normal,” As she calmly put the scissors down.

Rich in Spirit

Went to the 80′s – 90′s Key West Reunion

Rich played the guitar on a sunset cruize aboard a boat he played on for years.

Had a great time.

Tight Rope Will from Key West

I use WordPress and Blogspot for different blogs. I started with blogger but wanted  a self-hosted blog so did my next blog on WordPress.

My mother, out of the blue, got Gullian Barret Syndrome. She is a 72-year-old woman who went from playing tennis 4 days a week to being in the hospital for over a month in excruciating pain that took weeks to diagnose. My sister was sending these very lengthy email updates every few days to all her friends. I had heard of blogs but did not really know what they were. I was wondering if this would be a good way to tell my mother’s story to a wide array of people. I know it is a rare disease but it seemed like everyone we told said they knew someone who had been diagnosed with this but they knew nothing of it. I love to write and figured I needed a way to channel my frustration in a productive way, so voila, I started a blog.

This process all started in December 2008.

I went to Dictionary.com to see what it had to say.

Definition of blog: an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page; also called Weblog.

Example: Typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author.

Then I found a site that teaches basic blogging for free then more advanced blogging for a fee. I would refer you to it but I just spent the last 15 min looking for it and it is no longer there. I only did the free part because I was itching to start. Patience is not my virtue.

(more…)