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Title: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:22pm It is long. It is guaranteed to make you fall asleep. I wrote it about 2 years ago. I've put it here for that reason and not to hijack your thread as the guys seem to have too much [smiley=hurl.gif] fun. ;) Ligia’s Tea Dear Mrs. Friar Tuck Thank you for the invitation to Ligia’s Tea. As you know by now, a “tea” definitely does not qualify as my cup of tea. I am more the type for an invitation to The Mad Hatters Tea Party. I think what persuaded me to accept your invitation, must be your words “She was of great help to me”. Now there is something that intrigued me. (Matters that are in conflict with my perceptions always intrigue me; so don’t be surprised if I’m constantly intrigued) My perception of you left me confident that help was a word only in the vocabulary of human beings that didn’t cope with the daily existence of mundane and other problems dealt to them on a regular basis. Blasé of me isn’t it? Bear with me on this one. The only thing that creeps up on me occasionally is maybe some cattiness. Besides my cohabitation with six cats - real ones – and my two daughters, my remedy for cattiness is to keep in stock a great amount of milk and cream, but I must say the cream is usually for my face. (At my age I need all the help I can get from Mother Nature.) You always seem to have the ideal life and to be happy. That’s me, misdirected most of the time. Maybe it is because fairy tales are still a bestseller in my world. How does Shakespeare say it in plain English:” He who protests too much”? Well, that is not I! It just shows you how we love to play the game of defensive self-righteous ego acceptance. I think I should have stuck to playing Monopoly as a child and not tried to appropriate an archetype Darwinian approach to mind and soul gymnastics. Well, that’s that, I will see you at the “Tea”. Talking about tea, I just have to tell you this. A few many years ago, when my skin had less wrinkles and innocence was one of my virtues, I was invited to a tea party by some ladies working in my office. Due to my total lack of sophisticated maturity, I didn’t pick up on any vibe as to what type of tea party this is going to be. With the result that I pitched up at this tea, conservatively attired with all the etiquette my mother could muster to instill in me, expecting teacups on doilies, a dainty selection of tarts and conversation befitting a lady. Needless to say, from its onset, this tea party was the direct opposite to my bland presupposed assumption. There were definitely a selection of tarts (I doubt if they were that dainty), the teapots were replaced with cartons of wine and there was no lady in sight for as far as the eye could see. This tea party turned out to be an educational foray into the uncensored realm of marketable toys applied by woman to please men. Since then I’ve been very skeptical about woman’s tea parties as it took me years to look at any man without seeing a dildo. On that note, let me love you and leave you, with my orthodox presumption that this tea party will enlighten me to things other than the male anatomy. |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:23pm Hi to the fair Mrs. Friar Tuck The competitor in me demands me to be the first to reply back and the fact that I've got absolutely nothing else to do but sit around in my pyjamas until 10 o'clock in the morning! I've never thought that I will lower my standards to the point where getting into clothes would become an effort. And THIS is not a sign of depression as any decent psychologist will tell me, but of total laziness and boredom. I will naturally defend my actions and call it by another name, say” Liberated Administrator with Zestful Yearning of Halfwit Origin Seeking Escape from Will Impaired Fashion Exercise" for short LAZY HOUSEWIFE. But after that long eulogy, I am probably not the first person to reply back anymore. And as you know by now, this reply will be everything BUT short. But enough about me, I'll take up that subject later again. About Ligia's Tea, I've really enjoyed the snacks, and the coffee was also great. Sorry I didn't sample the tea, so I cannot comment on that. Ligia talks right down my alley, so in other words, what she believes makes sense to me as it is very close to my own belief system. Between you and me, HATE (not dislike) is my major movie showing currently and in the past at any cinema near me. Maybe it is because of my star sign (Aries - War Planet Mars - War God and Defender of the Underdog) - I have to blame something and if I want to blame someone, I'll blame the woman who calls herself my Mother. If that option doesn’t work I will blame it on social conditioning. But that is just me, always blaming something or someone as this makes me feel better about myself. Self-preservation in my dictionary means, "Kill now, and ask questions later!" And it is not, rightly as she said, that we do not know what is good for us, and that we do not have the knowledge of how to change the path of destruction that leads to unhappiness. It is just that we are reluctant to change, as we like to cling to our little habits because they are familiar and SOOOOoooo utterly enjoyable and self-destructive! And, face it; what else gives us purpose and drive, like our little past issues? Excellence is driven by our notion of our past struggles, and THAT becomes the motivation for our future greatness. It is a drug and a very powerful one at that! But yes, I need help! Help from someone objective, in control of his or her inner destiny and in tune with the greater picture. I have admiration for the perfect! (And by saying this I'm not being sarcastic, although I can, at the best of times be a real bitch!). The times you've arranged suites me fine, I am flexible, time-wise not limb-wise (getting too old for that). My daughters can't wait to have sessions with her, if it is possible to arrange sessions for the teenagers. I'm going to break your mould and not reply point by point to your questions as you requested. I just love to annoy and break the pattern! I find it quite conservative and plain boring not to ramble on and on about what occupy my one brain-cell. As you can see, I've returned to the subject of ME! I don't think I've ever really left me out of anything; I just camouflaged 'me' as 'we'. Books, I want to read them all, so just let me have one now and give me the numbers of the ladies that will get the other books. The reason behind this is; so that I can bug them all with insane phone calls, at the most odd times of the day and night until they yield to my powers of persuasion, and offer up their books at a faster rate than they can read them. I am sure that any topic Ligia will cover will be like the first rainfall in an arid land. I need the tools to catch the rainwater and store it. Besides my best intentions, my tools seem to be dysfunctional or rather inappropriate. I think I used my tongue to try and catch the water and thought my kidneys will store it. Just shows you how you can sit the pot miss in some situations. I better log off now; you might want to read other correspondence before nightfall. |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:23pm A Hammer and Nail Good Day to you Mrs. Friar Tuck "Hammer the head on the nail" or is it "Nail the head on the hammer"? I always knew there were a hammer, a nail and a head involved. But I realized that I lost one or more of these three with the acquisition of my teenaged daughters. My violent thoughts were frequented by scenes of me hammering my nails into either my or their heads, with great passion. (Unfortunately I do nothing without GREAT passion and THAT may just be the end of me someday!) Now that understanding dawned on me, hopefully, thanks to your Owner's Manual, I am sure that I can forgo my retirement plan that enabled me to spend my last years in solitary confinement, in a padded room, wearing a designer’s outfit that kept my hands away from my head. That is IF, I don't turn out to suffer from: Total Extensive Explosive Narcissistic Attitude with Greatly Evolved Retribution Syndrome! I cannot wait for our first real session with Ligia, as my sanity is on the verge of abandoning me for greener pastures. Maybe it will be a good idea if I can get my hands on some greener pastures and smoke it. |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:24pm Salutations to you Mrs. Tuck My head is not so well (but it never was and most probably, will never be) but I'm coping at this stage with lots of meds. I hope I'll lose my head soon, because it is quite a bother to keep it on my shoulders! I like the meds though, as it takes the edge off the sharp corners of my life. The only problem of many, I might say, is that I suffer slightly from a speech impediment and with saying (or rather slurring) that, I reject any comments directed at my slowly deteriorating brain capacity. Now in my existing leisurely lifestyle I’ve actually been busy filling my idle hours with soul soup by trying to read as many of Ligia’s books as I can before our session with her. That would certainly impress if nothing else! You see there she is again, the bloody alter ego that needs to impress to validate the existence of the inner child. What an outdated perception, that if I know something or pretend to know something people will approve of me more and that is what I need to be happy within myself! The doggy in me, pants with its sloppy slimy tongue lolling to one side, while saliva drips in long strings to the ground;” Pat me, please pat me on the head, Oooh please pat me on my head!” I’m definitely starting to develop an affinity for people with Tourette’s syndrome. Besides that, I am truly inspired by the contents of these books. I just hope this feeling will last and that it will not be one of those “one night stand” feelings that I get more often than not. I quickly get hooked on an idea that energises and inspires me (like a good looking man). Then I react with all the enthusiasm of a puppy dog expecting to be fed (I drool and pant and try to impress and even wag my tail). A day or two later the feeling starts to wear off or just becomes too much of an effort to maintain, that is when I convince myself that it was either a bad idea in the first place or a result of my one misplaced energetic brain cell (this is usually the time when I find my glasses and see that my prince is actually a frog). What a shock when I read in these books about our little control dramas! My secret feelings of superiority faded like colourful washing in a tub of bleach. I have got all these control dramas, in actual fact; I am one control drama after another! If I knew this at the stage of selecting a career, I would definitely have become an actor, and you bet your boots I would have won an Oscar every year for the best performance in a dramatic illustration of how not to live life! I am a master at the usage of these control dramas, so call me MASTA! You masta listen and give your full attention to me otherwise I will give you an extended version of:” You never listen to me, so you care nothing for me or my feelings of total inadequacy.” The “Poor Me” drama is simply the best sympathy seeker. Then as soon as I see your attention waning and my tears do not impress, I start to feel annoyed at your total lack of commitment to my emotional needs and start to interrogate you with my well prepared six questions. “ Where were you when I desperately needed you and why don’t you give me what I need and how can you do this and who do you think you are to treat me this way? ” (Is it just my imagination or does a lot of what I am saying start to sound like a familiar song?) This “Interrogator” control drama will hopefully draw the necessary response that is needed to keep your attention focused on my desperate needs. Then, there you go again, and refuse to answer any of these questions in a remotely satisfying manner. Now I’m starting to become really pissed off at your inability to predict what I wanted your response to be on my fool prove interrogation. And I put the emphasis on FOOL prove! This makes me change tactics and I play the part of the intimidator. I start to scream and yell and hopefully scare you into submission to recognise me and my unadulterated need for attention. As a last resort I will pick up a totally replaceable object of no real value to me, aim for your head and obviously miss. You may reply with something like;” You throw like a girl.” And that will push me to the edge of my control dramas. I will act hurt, start to sulk and become aloof. Telling myself that I will never talk to you again, in my life! This “Aloof “ control drama I will keep up for the minimum period of three days, just to make sure that you feel as guilty as hell. This drama allows me to make you pay attention and to play my game. Aha! Caught you! Now you become the Interrogator! Isn’t this better than Monopoly or maybe this is the new improved version of this age-old game? Wasn’t it William the Shaking Spear that said something about the world being a stage and we the actors? |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:25pm Tuck in your pantaloons Mrs. Friar and make a bow! Lo and behold, to my udder shock and miserly existence no one but I pitched up for this “tea”! I totally felt like a cow being the only one in need of psychotherapy or slaughter. (Cow - an expression used by my teenaged daughters when anything and everything becomes humiliating, also used for persons with the tendency to make an udder ass out of themselves according to teenage standards and totally is a word that cannot be left out due to its coolness.) I told you “teas” are not my forte and the more I think about it neither are teenagers. Well, isn’t this one of the reasons why I needed to attend? No, not because I have teenage daughters, silly, but because at my age I should not be as sensitive and caring about other peoples opinions, then what in the name of old cows was the purpose of puberty? Certainly not just to develop exponentially in different directions externally! And I, for one, definitely don’t want those years back. At present I am desperately trying to outlive and grapple with a double dose of hazardous hormonal exposure. I just pray that menopause will pause a while longer and not add more hormonal upheaval to my already taxed mental and emotional capabilities. In the end there was nothing else to do than to invite Ligia for tea at my house. I will be damned if I let this opportunity pass by and not allow another person to analyse my inner turmoil and tell me the things I didn’t want to hear but already knew. Yes, and doesn’t this sound as if I have an inclination towards masochistic suffering or, can it be pleasure and an unhealthy obsession with cows? Maybe the reason the other ladies did not attend was the lack of these qualities in their own cowless persona. Me, on the other hand can only be called a real sucker for punishment. But if it is punishment that is needed to bring about that illusive pearl of wholeness that will plug the gap and leave me living life instead of searching for it, then so it may be! But I am again straying from the set out path and getting lost in the woods of my own inattentive labyrinth of thoughts. And there she gives it to me straight like gaffing a fish. My, oh, my… Did THAT hurt! First of all I had to give up my precious control dramas. All the voices in me protested with wailing and a gnashing of teeth. As if that wasn’t enough, she told me that the only way to happiness and prosperity was, get ready for this; that malfunctioning apprehensive little big noun called “forgiveness”! Now as you know, to say I forgive you, myself, them, the universe, society and especially parents and siblings are the easy part. That word is relatively easy to say and when push comes to shove to think that you mean it. It is always easier to salve your own conscience by playing make believe. The problem with that word is, that to forgive is a commitment to yourself and the other person, never to use what you have forgiven ever again in any form as punishment. Profound, isn’t it! The last bitter pill of the day was… Yes, here it comes! Just hear the horns bellow and the rolling crescendo of drums… I HAD TO LOVE MYSELF! Please, NO, just not THAT! I’ve been brought up to KNOW that this is the epitome of arrogant selfish shameless vanity. And besides that, I love to hate myself and punish myself for my own despicable inadequacies because it makes me feel good knowing that I am definitely not vain. Rather let me swim through a sea of sharks, but please not that! I will try anything and even give it my best shot – hopefully in the process shoot someone else through the foot instead of myself – but please release me let me go. (Yes, you are right, there is no better way to express yourself than through song.) I’m sure there is a song on “Express Yourself”. You see, my intuition was right, there is a song for every emotion and moment in the universe. Isn’t there an expression “Say it with a song” or was it “Say it with flowers”? So let’s chuck this psycho-spiritual crap and rather listen to music, it would certainly feel more comfortable and less threatening to my perilous existence. My delicate unbalanced equilibrium has been upset so I am going to take an insignificant break from me by the act of drowning myself in a few Long Island Ice Teas, thus pretending that I am not here and I am not I! |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:26pm Cheers to you too Mrs. Tuck! So much for drowning oneself and one’s thoughts, this just tends to turn a river into the Pacific Ocean. Boredom and tea drinking are now rated in the same arcane category of philosophy. It is both a by-product of having too much time and plates on your hands to do nothing but think out psychoanalytical bull dust that makes for confusing topics which sounds good on paper but is real hard to swallow. I’m going to leave tea drinking to the experts and stick to my cup of java in the future. Happiness is an overrated ideal for people who wear sunglasses when the moon shines bright. My personal opinion – yes, I still have one, I hope… after all this indoctrination into this psychotherapeutic behaviour control methods – is that life is better if you take your sunglasses off at night and smell the water in the wind. Life is my song even when it sounds like Heavy-Metal or Rap and besides I became very good friends with the many voices in my head. From that moment, when verbal text started to make sense of my thought processes, life became the quilt I needed to unravel. This strange place I visit on Earth, called Life, kept secrets from me that intrinsically screamed at me ‘Come to Mama!’ Now any Psychologist, Psychoanalyst or Psychotherapist will tell you that, hearing voices are the first thing you must deny to declare sanity and acting on these voices are the second worse thing you can do for society and these ‘Psycho-the-rapists’ sanity’s sake. I’ve always wondered why these highly educated people would tag themselves with the label ‘Psycho’ as a prefix to their occupational status. Well, to be totally insensitive, I presume it takes one to know one. Haven’t these people ever heard of an inner voice, sixth sense or intuition, whatever you like to call it? It is directly and inherently part of the individual soul. My soul just have a few more than the abnormally normal Tom, Dick and Harry out there. I always say the more the merrier; maybe someone else said that first and sometimes I just say Shut Up! Can someone really control the volume dial of your soul? Does it matter how loud or how soft your voice or voices let itself be heard? So I’m concluding my correspondence to you by saying Adios and Farewell! This exercise was not in vain as I labored through this domain of psychotic reasoning. I now fully realize that I always knew myself as no one else will know me – Dhuh! – and that life has much more to offer than I will ever be able to give. So do I play the martyr and castrate myself for typical human behavior or do I just say “Prost!” and drink from the cup I’m offered? I think I’ll stick to the latter, for batter or for worst. |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Grandma_Sweet_Boy on Dec 1st, 2005, 6:48pm Jas - do you have a literary agent yet - if not sign me up! That's priceless! ;) Carol |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jonny on Dec 1st, 2005, 8:11pm Christ!!!....put it on tape and mail it ;;D |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 8:20pm Thanks Carol, I'm glad you liked it. :) |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 1st, 2005, 8:22pm on 12/01/05 at 20:11:53, Jonny wrote:
Bite Me! or talk to the hand! [smiley=tongue2.gif] |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jonny on Dec 1st, 2005, 8:41pm on 12/01/05 at 20:22:51, Jasmyn wrote:
[smiley=bloos.gif] |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Lizzie2 on Dec 1st, 2005, 9:13pm Ooooh thanks for posting your story for me!!! Unfortunately, I saw this when I was waking up...after sleeping maayyyyyybe 3 hours today. LOL So now that I have to stay awake cuz I have to leave for work in an hour, I'm gonna save it to read in the morning when I'll need a bedtime story again! Thanks sis! Luvya! Lizzie :-* |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by Jasmyn on Dec 3rd, 2005, 6:59am My pleasure Lizzie hope you slept well! ;) |
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Title: Re: A Bedtime Story for Lizzie Post by MJ on Dec 4th, 2005, 2:52am A life explored is a life well lived.. Nice work Jasmyn. |
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