confessions of dick dancers and mermaid queens

confession: a couple weeks ago at a party someone asked me how i got my name. i answered, “i chose it.” in the days that followed “i chose it” echoed in my head. if i can choose a new name, i can choose a new anything. i can choose a new everything. of course i know i can choose something new because i did it, i’ve done it, i’m doing it, but hearing myself reply “i chose it” reminded me that any change i want is as simple as choosing it.

confession: i’ve asked for blind spots about myself to be revealed. inaccurate self-perceptions lead to an inability to take responsibility for one’s issues. when someone highlights one of my blind spots i emphasize to myself that person is giving me a gift. i resist the impulse to defend or justify what threatens my self-perception. whew. what a load off.

confession: we thought we were sooooooo funny sitting in his not-quite-girlfriend’s car at 3:45am responding to a text message with a non-sequitur request to be fed and a comment about lacking meatloaf in our childhoods. the result was homemade breakfast tacos for him the next day. another roundabout example demonstrating that if you ask for what you want you’ll likely receive it or something better.

confession: he’s always hungry. i could’ve told him “me, too” and it would’ve been true but i didn’t.

confession: making bad decisions is easier while drinking tequila. although i orchestrate my bad decisions before the first drink.

confession: for two days last week when i checked in with my feelings, i felt happy and free. since happiness and freedom are unfamiliar feelings for me, i had a protracted discussion about happiness and freedom with someone i trust. according to this person (who admits no expertise in feeling states), happiness indicates gratified pleasure and freedom indicates a possibility to satiate desires. i didn’t argue but may have disagreed. happiness has poked its head out of its hidey hole a few times this week. freedom lies beyond the barbed wire wall.

confession: i had decided not to tell him that i’ve been thinking of him as my boy best friend. our fast friendship is developing deeply and intensely and i didn’t want to pressure him. somehow i let the label slip anyway. his response to my slip presented as a statement and not a question was an affirmative “yes, of course.”

confession: he is the first person to introduce me to the term “dick dancer.” i love him more for this expansion of my vocabulary.

confession: before we met for lunch yesterday we’d never seen each other in the daylight. she’s radiant in sunlight.

confession: he looked at me with disbelief when i told him that he is afraid of women. days later he made a comment that strippers are scary. i circled back and explained that his comment about strippers evidences his fear of women. he said that strippers aren’t women. he was kidding, because he hates when i’m right.

confession: yesterday i had an opportunity to reciprocate care for someone who takes the best care of me. i felt pure joy and gratitude in giving to her. we break spells together. we are witchy rainbow disco love dancing angels together. i hope you find your tribe of witchy rainbow disco love dancing angels or silver-tipped arrow-shooting ninja warriors or treasure hunting beer-swilling bandits or kilt-wearing gig-playing jig-jumping pirates or unicorn-prancing amazonian goth princesses or chess-playing gunslinging mermaid queens. find your people and give ‘em your best.

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About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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