No Strings Attached

We've all heard the claim before - "No strings attached." It's often used when offering to do a favor for someone. "I'll give you the $50 you need - no strings attached".

No strings attached, quite simply, means to not expect anything in return. All there is is what I'm offering - nothing more, nothing less. But there are always expectations, even if we try not to have them. If I give you $50, I, unfortunately, expect you to return the favor if I ever should end up in a similar predicament. I may not believe it at the moment I give you the money. But when the time comes that I need the money, my mind upon your answer of "no" will be "well I bailed you out. One would think you'd have the decency to do the same."

"No strings attached" relationships are the same. These are relationships which are generally purely physical relationships. The "no strings" in this case means no emotional attachment. We sleep with each other when we're both in the mood, and go about our lives when we're not. We date and love who we wish, and aren't expected to be there when the other wants only someone to hold them.

This is a bit different than "friends with benefits." The "friends" part of that relationship already signifies there will be some sort of strings or expectations. "No strings attached" claims to leave no room for expectations.

And yet, this relationship is perhaps the most impossible of all. At least, for any decent length of time. A week or two may be achievable, but eventually, one will develop feelings. And these feelings - these emotional attachments - can show themselves in a variety of ways. Perhaps one will become jealous of the other partner's relationships. Or there will be a broken heart, or the expectation that one will be there during the painful times. One will want to share their feelings with the other.

No matter what the case, "no strings attached" - or a purely physical relationship - creates more problems than it is typically worth.

Dear Me at 17

I have always loved the Brad Paisley song, "Letter to Me." And I have often thought it would be a good topic to write about. But as I sit here, I find it much more difficult than I would have anticipated. Not because I don't know what to say, but because there is just so much to say. Seventeen and eighteen were such a big years for me. By the time my seventeenth birthday came about, I was already nearly two months into my first year of college. And to try to prepare that "me" to what was soon to come? Especially what was to come that next year?

But, I have promised this letter and so here it is...

Dear me at 17...

When you finally get the courage - and trust me, you soon will - to escape the fear and pain you've lived with for ten years, remember those still living in that same home. Do whatever you can to remain close to them. To make sure they know you love them.

Every piece of writing that escapes from your fingers, those hidden between the mattresses, and in your dresser drawers, and jewelry box - keep them safe. They may seem like pathetic whining right now, but they are the memories who make you who I am today.

Stop trying so hard to make someone love you and trust what you want. Trust what you know deep inside. He whose name you write in the sand will be in your heart forever. It doesn't turn out how you want, and although you may try again and again to force it to be that, accept that it is what you need.

No strings attached doesn't exist - but allow yourself to forget that for one special person. Although in the future he doesn't even remember you, you learn more than you can ever realize.

And most of all, and this is a lesson you have yet to follow although you already know it, stop being scared of love. You try so hard (and succeed most of the time) to chase people away because you're afraid. You don't want to be what you grew up with. Stop running. Allow the butterflies to land upon your shoulder.

And one last thing before I end this - remember Halloween. That one day will change your life in ways yet to be understood.

I could come up with more, but this will have to do for now. Enjoy 17 because 18 comes hard and fast.

Love,
Me

Beauty & the Beast

Beauty and the Beast the series - a show that aired in the last 80's and only lasted a few seasons - is perhaps the best love story ever created. But the producers/writers truly screwed up, which is the prime reason the show only made it through half the third season before being canceled.

The basic theme behind the series was nicely summed up in the intro, which was recited at the beginning of each episode. But even simpler was one line from this intro: "and although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart."

And so at the beginning of the third season, Catherine (the "Beauty" in the story) gives birth to Vincent's (the "Beast") baby and then dies.

Is it any wonder the show quickly died?

It really is too bad. It was a good show - especially the second series. The love between the two main characters was strong and true, and existed without a physical side. There couldn't be a physical side. Well, obviously there could be...but that's what killed it all. Yes, they struggled with not being able to be together, but they still held tight to what they could have. And they accepted it. And they grew stronger and closer.


Vincent: This is where the wealthy and the powerful rule. It is her world. A world apart from mine. Her name is Catherine. From the moment I saw her, she captured my heart with her beauty, her warmth, and her courage. I knew then, as I know now, she would change my life . . . forever.

Catherine: He comes from a secret place, far below the city streets, hiding his face from strangers, safe from hate and harm. He brought me there to save my life . . . and now, wherever I go, he is with me, in spirit. For we have a bond stronger than friendship or love. And although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart

Why am I Psycho?

You want to know why I'm psychotic? Why I've never been like "normal girls"? Where to begin...

Let's start at the beginning. It's usually the best place to start. I was 2 when my mother walked away. I didn't even remember her. If you ask my father, she was an alcoholic who wasn't ready for children. If you ask my mother, he came at her with a gun and she left because she feared for her life. If you ask me, it doesn't really matter why she left. She set the rest of the story into action.

Being a single father, naturally my father needed a baby sitter. Thus enters Randy into the picture. Older (I was only 4 or 5, so older could be anywhere between 20 and 40....I think he was around the same age as my father). I remember having to touch him. Having him touch me. I have spent the last 30 years blocking the memory...I'm not about to bring it back...

But, no matter. I was soon to learn that not only was my father single, he was also desperate. He wanted someone...no...make that he NEEDED someone...to love him. So much so that he eventually found a woman who beat me and my sister regularly and so long as she loved him, he let her do as she will.

He did try to stop her. Once. I remember her saying "fine...she's your daughter...you take care of it..." And so he did. By beating me within an inch of my life. I remember him kicking me, bruising me, my nose and lip bleeding, my body aching.

This became a constant occurrence. Until, several years later, 18 yet in my last year of high school I finally left for good.

Yeah, for good.

So much for "for good".

Since leaving, 2 brothers have committed suicide, one is in jail for drugs/domestic violent. 1 sister finally managed to make a life for herself with her husband and children...the other has done the same, but with many more scars than she should have to deal with.

Sometimes, Brandon and Matthew, I think you two were smarter than the rest of us. Sometimes I envy you both. Other times, I wish you'd asked me for help. I would have been there. No questions asked.

To the two responsible for Brandon and Matthew taking their own lives....the two responsible for Ray being in jail...those responsible for us 3 girls struggling every day with the fates of the boys and the actions in our pasts...I have tried to forgive. I've tried to understand. I've tried to forget. And all I can pray, God help me, is that some day Karma comes back and kicks you in the mother-fucking ass. You're not worth my forgiveness or love or mercy. I hope your death is slow and painful and leaves no other victims as you have both already left enough.

Emotionally Slapped in the Face

So many times you find that one - that person you can trust without question or doubt. And every time, you get slapped in the face, emotionally if not physically. And believe me, I'd take the physical any day of the week. Physical bruises heal. The emotional bruises? They lighten in time. But they never heal. No matter what anyone tells you, they never heal.

There's the "father" - whether biological or not. This is the man you believe will love you unconditionally. The one who will always be there for you. The one who will, unconditionally, turn his back on you. Don't buy into the appearance of love and trust and protection. It is all a lie.

There's the "twin soul" - the one person who, no matter the time or distance separating you, will always love you and need you and want you. He, too, is a lie. He loves and wants and needs you - provided you please him in every way he desires. Otherwise, he'll quite simply move on.

There's your "true love" - similar to a twin soul, the one who will always love you. Of course, he will only true love you if you bend to his every will and demand.

No matter the man or the love, he will fail you. But none so great as the father. The father isn't supposed to fail you. The others, it isn't so unexpected. But the one you choose as the father? That one hurts the most. His betrayal makes you give up completely. His betrayal makes you turn all his lessons into something selfish and wrong. And yet perhaps oh so right. Can an emotional slap in the face be what is truly needed? Can it be what makes us strong?

Little Trinkets

Silly little playthings. Naughty silly little playthings. How they scurry away if there isn't a toy in the box for them. Pitter-patter away, like little ants, in every direction.

You think you deserve this? You truly believe you deserve my touch, my pretty little glances and smiles? You silly little thing. You are nothing more than a trinket. I say what game we play and what the rules are. I say. Not you. You silly little trinket.

You want to touch? You lie. You don't want to touch. You want to be touched. You want to be played with. And when one no longer plays, you hide, looking for someone else. You think this is the rules to the game. But no. I am the rules. I created them from the little voices. They tell me how to play and they don't like rule breakers.

I want to play a new game. I want to play the game where you get touched. With hot pokers and sharp instruments. I want to hear screams and see blood scurrying away from your form. Yes, yes. I want to play a new game with my little trinket. My silly little plaything.

I have complete faith in you, but

...just don't screw this up.

I have complete faith in you, but just don't screw this up.

I have complete faith in you, but just don't screw this up?

Wow. I don't know about the rest of you, but this statement makes me just want to run out and give it my all. Yup, I will definitely bend over backwards to help you out. I'll drop everything for you. I'll skip sleep and play and anything else that doesn't revolve around you. I'll break my back and let go of my sanity.

And you can kiss my ass.

I have complete faith in you but???

You can't have a "but" in that statement. By adding that small little word, you have told more than you could ever imagine. You don't have faith in me. You don't believe in me. You don't trust me. You know I'm going to fuck it up. You know I can't do it right. So why the hell even try? Why? Why claim to have faith in me? Do you really think some lie is what I want to hear? Do you really think I'm so stupid that I'm going to believe that lie?

Or do you just not give a shit? I'm leaning more towards that. You just don't care. You don't care about anything other than yourself. So, thank you for that lesson. I'm done doing for you or anyone else. I'm doing it all for me.

I had complete faith in you. Thank you for teaching me not to.