Bear with me...

I live alone in theory. My boyfriend spends most nights with me in my “bohemian love shack”. It is a” find”, a “gem” in the most pretentious neighborhood in the most pretentious city in America. Los Angeles, Ca. (though, if you are approaching 40 rapidly like I am, it is more appropriately described as an over-priced guest house in a bitter, Brentwood, divorces’ unkempt backyard). I have managed though to find some pride in this cabin while still bitching about it’s difficulties. It has no kitchen, I climb up and down a ladder to pee in the middle of the night, and said land- lady is consistently inconsistent with her wavering like and dislike of me. I kiss ass and then blow up at her about every 6 months when I can no longer stand the oppression. Regardless, I feel blessed. I feel chosen not to be dependent on mortgage crisis outcomes." Freedom is nothing left to lose but a late nineties model car and a rented shack". I feel successful in actuality. No home loans or credit card debt. Fuck the world!
Then there is love…
I met an incredible man. He is smart, creative, and gorgeous in an “unfair to others” kind of way. He is forthcoming with his verbal affections, funny, and cool, cool, cool. He challenges my temper. His temper is bigger. This is necessary for our compatibility at any length. My years of “loves disappointments” require certain levels of alpha domination. I could scare the mafia at this point with my unbridled explosiveness. More importantly, I scare myself. I see a need to teardown and burn any structure that does not appear or project complete acceptance (“If you do not want me always, I don’t want you now”). I would rather run than be run from. It is very topical and transparent in its psychological dysfunction. This is one of my biggest fears realized. To be sociologically and culturally partitioned by my common behavioral habits and patterns. It is absolutely boring in the grand scheme of perceptual bias and non-physical, quantum existence. I chose spiritual leadership and collective vision upon my arrival into this body and have gone temporarily belly up into an ill perceived, emotionally attached, bland, human experience. I cry all the time. I beg to not be left. I leave to find relief. I question my stability. I even question my desire to be alive. I then gurgle and bubble over in the comfort of accepting flesh and muscle and the vibrations of kind and light words. I live my days minute by minute, misery to elation; elation to misery. This is based on one human’s availability and subsequent distance. It is based on my hyper focus and then convenient distraction of others temporary attentions. The “dark” to me is now a life that I lived quite comfortably, quite recently. It terrifies me to return to a place I wasn’t so dissatisfied with to begin with; a place not so scary at all. I regret this present failure of spirit. I believe I am competitive and potentially even egotistical in the elusive “God” world. Ha! I’ll kick your archangel, enlightened, source-full, ass’s yet! Someone will channel my California accented voice one day too, mutha fuckas’!
If I can sort out the details of these pesky little bumps in my spiritual off -roading. I’m four-wheeling in low gear across a river… AGAIN.