Stevi's Storied Life

 But Jesus said to them, "A prophet is not without honor except in his own town and in his own home." -Matthew 13:57 The night of the fourth of July, or the wee hours of the morning of the fifth, rather, I found myself suffering a bout of insomnia coupled with an urge to drive. Naturally, I had no idea as to my destination, but I hopped in my car and took the highway.  As if on autopilot, I found myself in the parking lot of the church where I grew up in Pasadena. Sunset United Methodist looked the same as it ever did in the dawn's soft glow. I waited until I saw a man arrive and waved hello.  He invited me into the Sunday school classroom for some coffee. The mural on the wall featuring a battle between angels and demons, some carrying folks up to heaven, others dragging people down into the fiery pit still made me feel just as unsettled as it had when I was a child and I'd go into the room with my grandmother for a cookie and some juice while she he...

I'm an outspoken individual (obviously). I haven't always been this way. I was painfully shy growing up, especially amongst my peers. I stood out as the quiet one or the smart one or the weird one who was bad at making friends. Unless I knew you well and felt at ease around you, chances are, you didn't know me very well or at all. I was picked on for my propensity for being a sort of know-it-all-glasses-wearing-braces-having-teacher's-pet-goodie-two-shoes type. You know the drill. My social anxiety propelled me into the world of reading and writing, of getting lost in whatever film or game I was obsessed with at the moment, of absorbing the goings-on around me when I didn't have a mode of escape or had to appear to be paying attention. In essence, I had to develop a personality, as we all do, as well as a thicker skin and a rather dark sense of humor as a coping mechanism. This story is true for many, if not all comedians. Everybody is capable of making it throu...

Howzit (millennial chat slang for 'how is it')--how is it that I can dream of buying a plot of land and building a tiny house where I'll plant a vegetable garden and grow herbs to make my own organic meals and fancy soaps I could gift and sell--but then I can watch a film set in New York and fantasize about living there as a writer? Then, at the same time, in the real world, all signs are pointing to finally living my age old dream of being a singer in a soulful rock band with a hint of folksy twang and a dash of funky blues? What does that even sound like? I'll let you know when I figure that out. Indecision has plagued me since I can remember. Which school should I attend? What should I major in? Which classes should I sign up for? Who should I date? What should I wear? What do I want to eat? Which route should I take? The guys from Boston told me not to worry or care about it, but they obviously pressed on and became a successful rock band. https://youtu.be/y-epOG...

My Earth Shoes keep me grounded. I used to think them ugly, but no-- They're simple, rounded, unfettered Light brown leather stitched to Soft, supportive soles, which offer Comfort for my arches and callused Heels and balls, Grecian monkey toes. The second one is longer than the Big one. They say that means I am Domineering, as does my day of birth. I suppose the stars have in mind a Leadership role, but I do not yet know Where it is I should next roam. Shall I bloom where I'm planted or Follow where the wind blows? I am Earth. I appear to be Air-- I have a fiery wit but the Water Calms my spirit, sometimes into Complacency. In my Earth Shoes, I feel at home Here at a table in a cafe, not far from My address. I feel no whims to take Flights of fancy, go downtown, or the Airport to hop a flight to where? Who knows. I don't have enough money anyway. I have three dollars and some coins I'm Consciously collecting because of the Year. I found ...

Lately, my mantra has been "stop saying words." After all, they're just symbols we use to communicate these unseen conceptual idea type thingies that someone else has probably already come up with better words for, or done it in such a way that makes more sense, takes less time to absorb, less effort even. They usually end up getting us in trouble, especially when we say too many or not enough, or the wrong ones, or even the right ones in the wrong way. I've been reading the Tao. According to the Tao, we should not always be talking. This is Sage wisdom, y'all. For true. We need to listen to others. If we don't, what's the point in this entire thing we call the world and all the other folks in it? If you think you already know everything, go ahead and do us all a favor and leave so the rest of us can pay attention. Or you know, maybe help us out, if you're so wise. I'm guilty of not listening. Oh so guilty. I'm not hating because we all go ...

I promise a heartfelt story of fishing next time...plus thoughts on The Old Man and the Sea...but for now, this is all I got. https://plus.google.com/+SteviAlsdorf/posts/epe8TERrXa3

https://plus.google.com/+SteviAlsdorf/posts/GWQ96RHCFCF https://plus.google.com/+SteviAlsdorf/posts/UVupENoNWEj It's a 2 parter because I had to pee.

https://plus.google.com/u/0/+SteviAlsdorf/videos?pid=6180659719213819186&oid=111863865068159610676

It's amazing what a good sleep will do for your outlook. You fall asleep miserable and wake up, forgetting why exactly, because the sun's shining, the tunes are swimming through your stock speakers, and you're flying down the highway, full faith in the four dollars' worth of fumes you fed your whip you affectionately refer to as Wanda (the Honda) because you know she's got another thirty miles left in her once that light comes on. She's basically your home and your best friend for all intents and purposes because she asks you no questions and tells you no lies. She loves it when you pump up the jams full blast, windows down, shamelessly fist pumping and signing out the sunroof to pop songs, directing the symphony of the road with your left hand, your cigarette a burning baton. You fancy yourself the director of this symphony you call your life. Your life's been good to you, but you've seen more than your fair share of the shit times. Still, when you...

Yeah.  That's pretty much it. I don't know why I still care at all.  I really don't.  I've list my gumption to even smoke cigarettes.  Wake me up when this shit is over. I thought maybe just MAYBE tonight would be special.  It's a blue moon.  I think I just need to move somewhere ni one knows knows my name and start over. I'm tired. I'm hurt. I'm broken down. I spent half half my life believing a lie. I'm such a fucking idiot. If some folks didn't didn't love didn't love me I'd probably just end it all. The fear of the possibility of repeating the same goddamn thing all over again holds me back more than anything. I'm officially done feeling. I'm an ice queen now. Frigid bitch. Fuck off, everyone! Not really. It's not your fault. I push all my friends away.  I can't care about anyone the way they deserve and nobody else cares for me the way I need them to. Caring is Ceeepy. Yay Shins. If I felt like farting, I'...