amazon_syren

So.

Interview over.

I did not get the job.

I am not actually surprised by this.

But, hey, I'm now registered with yet another agency. So there you go.


On the plus side, I was able to articulate my dream 'job' (not, I admit, doing admin for a temp agency). It goes like this:

Three or four days a week (ideally three, but that depends on the pay-rate, among other things), I work a day-job (the kind of thing that means there *will* be food on the table and a roof overhead, even if everything else gets slow) doing Mindless Filing (and so on) at a feminist, women-centered non-profit organization (like a women's shelter or POWER or what-have-you).
The rest of the time, I do music/vocal recording/performing, writing (which gets published for pay), making and selling (on Etsy, at craft-shows, etc) jewelry and bath/body products (and potentially other stuff like Recycled Clothing or hand-bags or what-have-you), and doing paid modeling gigs.
Enough steady income, working with an organization that does something that I think actually matters, to make sure that ends always meet, plus enough additional income from the stuff I love doing, and would be doing anyway, to make ends overlap significantly enough that I can still go out regularly and buy pretty shoes and so-on.


The Model Mayhem site is... a little overwhelming. Yes, it's a very handy place to meet people who want to take your picture. It's also... wah... there are a *lot* of people on that thing. It's... It's a way of learning to turn off the people-pleasing impulse, I have to tell you.

Have spent the last hour bopping around Craigslist applying for various modelling and voice-work jobs. We'll see if I hear anything back from any of them.


Anyway. So there's that.


Miss Sara is safely back in Texas (deep in the heart there-of) -- her bus got into NYC late, so she ended up missing her flight (along with a whole wack of other people, apparently). She had to stay overnight in the airport. Good thing she typically sleeps on the floor, anyway, isn't it?) So she's okay. She's got an electrolysis appointment (today, I think, but she managed to get it moved).


Anyway. That's what-all's going on here. I need to (A) harrass my (many) agencies (again), and (B) bag up a bunch of chocolate-bark for tomorrow/Thursday. May also see what I can come up with in terms of xmas ornaments for people. I'll look through my craft box and my beads and see if I can come up with anything.


May also make cream-of-spinach soup (perhaps with oyster mushrooms for added fun!) -- since I've got a tonne of spinach dip left over from the partay.


[EDIT: Have made soup -- was good, but a little too lemony. Must keep this in mind. Also downed the last of the white wine, mixed with the last of my pineapple juice. This was, alas, a terrible waste of *both* the white wine *and* the pineapple juice. :-( Oh, well. You live and you learn. /EDIT]


*~*~*~*~*

And Now, A Poem:


Shape Shifter

When i met you
i didn't know
(wouldn't know
until much later)
that, like me you were
a shapeshifter

only difference is
when we met
you wore your true form (at last)
i (still)
wore a mask

*~*~*~*~*

Ta-Daaaaaaaaaaa.


- TTFN,
- Amazon.

I have found a new word:

LIMERENCE: A strong desire for, longing for, or preoccupation with another person, accompanied by a sometimes overwhelming desire for reciprocation. Limerence may be accompanied by idealization of the person so desired.
Etymology: The term limerence was coined by Dr. Dorothy Tennov, who described it in her book Love and Limerence: The Experience of Being in Love (Scarborough House, 1979, ISBN 0812862864).
Commentary: Limerence is distinct from new relationship energy in that it is more akin to what people commonly call a "crush," and may not be associated with a relationship at all. Some researchers have linked limerence to quantifiable physiological processes in the brain, particularly to depressed levels of the neurotransmitter serotonin. Some people in the polyamory community use the word limerence as a synonym for new relationship energy, though this usage is not technically correct.



In other news: Umi is having an open mic tonight, and I think I will go. :-) I like reading my stuff out loud. :-)


The search for an appartment continues. (Wish me luck!)


Last night I went to Nocnitsa's sweetheart's starbucks (it's in the bottom of my building). I got a free drink and a free piece of cake! :-D (Yay! Free food!) And I picked up some information from the Cornerstone Women's Shelter people. (They need volunteers for cooking stuff, so I think I'll look into that). :-)



And: Another poem. (This one is for the Selkie collection).

Ocean

I mention that I miss the ocean
(Mention it despite the fact that we have no money
despite the fact that I know you’re uncomfortable
with those not-exactly-sisters I used to swim with there
know that I’m missing them, too)

I mention that I miss the ocean

and you

in an act of kindness
(I tell myself, later,
that it had nothing to do with insecurity
or control)

you find a wading pool

for our back yard


*~*~*~*~*


- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)

First, the latest Selkie poem:

I Used to Be a Seal

I used to be a seal,
slippery in the sea's
salt flow.

I used to be a seal,
I would peel my oil
slick pelt off my shoulders,
to reveal, and
to revel in
my second skin

I used to be a seal,

free to feel, flow, and
roll below the swells
I used to be
a seal,
used to squeal,
laughter pealing,
but the sight of

him

drew feeling,
(when I met him on the shore)
far too strong
to ignore

I used to be a seal

but no more

*~*~*~*~*

This one was jotted down on an envilope at lunch, 'cause that was the paper I had available:

my god

my god,
the smell of queen anne's
lace after Rain,
my god, the very rain
soaked loam, the ferns,
dripping, my
god, the puddles, sky
reflecting, my god
my god
this lush, damp
earth my sweet
sustainer
my god

*~*~*~*~*

Written, yesterday, on the train, while on my way to Ami_B's house (yes, I said HOUSE).

Purple Flowering Raspberry

She's a little piece of heaven
this high bush
tree growin
wild along the highways, by the
bike paths and the weedy queen
anne's lace.
Her flower's like a wild rose,
leaf like a currant bush,
but her fruit
her fruit
is broad and clotted
red around a hard
hip,
white
like bone

*~*~*~*~*

Also written on the way to Ami_B's:

Skin Memories

There was a woman on the bus
hardly more than a girl, she wore a
long, pink sweater that clung
to her curves,
the sway of her hips,
just so.

On the high bridge of her sternum
just below her collar bone
was a scar.
The size of a box of paperclips
or the library's rubber date
stamp
The size of my two thumbs laid side by each
What caused that scar
to mar her
skin?
What burn,
so sharp-edged,
left its mark? It looked
like someone took a kinfe and
sliced her
skin clean off.
I wonder
what grew back there
in its place?

*~*~*~*~*

While the train stopped at Carleton U.:

Three Women Walking

Three witches
Three muses
Three women
walking
wise and graceful
chadores billowing
in the breeze

*~*~*~*~*

I want to submit some poetry to dig, an annual poetry (and other stuff) 'zine.

With that in mind, how can I make these better?


Regrets, Unlessoned

Walking down the street in early April,
In shoes (at last), not boots, my
mittens stuffed
unceremoniously into my shoulder bag
(Freedom!)
My hands feel the freshening breeze for the first time, since
Winter came

A stranger stops me

A stranger stops me,
r-e-a-c-h-e-s
across the boundary of space to
touch
my skin, to
take
my hand, and say:
"See?
You have got to take better care of your fingernails. No
man's gonna want to talk to you, looking
like that."

Just
like that.

For only a moment (the purest
shock)
you could hear a pin drop,
a shoe drop,
a drop that, falling, makes ripples (in the still, cool waters of someone else's lake)

There's a little boy clinging, in a way that says
Daddy.
Big eyes that take everything in.

"How Dare you??" I did not say
"What (the hell) gave you the impression that
I
am doing this for
(the likes of) you?
I am (the subject of my own world)
NOT (an ornament to yours)!"

I did not say it.

Big eyes that take everything in.

I wish I had.


*~*~*~*~*


Old Shoes

Lover,
You are the comfy shoe
I put on when the day is long and
My feet and
My heart are
hurting.
Comfortable and familiar, but
I don't want
to wear you out.


*~*~*~*~*


Streaming

The clock ticks

if we met now,
would we have met at all?

The house is silent

cars on the road go by outside the window
you're upstairs and I can hear you
moving

The house is silent

is this the beginning of the end?

The clock ticks
And the present
Becomes the past


*~*~*~*~*


Not sure if any of them fit the bill of "challenging, compelling and impactful", or, for that matter, that they aren't "romantic or boring", but we'll see.

Suggestions? Pretty-please? :-)

Slut

There's a word on the tip of
your tongue,
A word I've heard before.
I suck it, hard,
right out of your mouth, and
swallow.
Build myself up
with words that would weigh me down.

[this poem is unfinished. I'm not sure how it ends...]


*~*~*~*~*


Winter/Spring 2008

Winter is long, it
snows
from november 'til april.
Ice,
thick on the sidewalks, and the
drifts are hip-deep,
deeper.
It's hard to move.
You and I are
frozen,
silent,
calm as an iced-over lake.

Three weeks after the last
snow falls, it's
twenty-five above and the snow is
boiling off the sidewalks.
We crack open
like an ice flow in the thaw.
Breaking up?
Or moving again?


*~*~*~*~*