The Cat Spot

When a guy tells you that he loves you in less than 72 hours of being in a "relationship," (RED FLAG) back away slowly then run... he really means he doesn't want to be "alone" and is actually more in love with the delusional version of his false projection of you. He does not love YOU. These guys are what we call the "sensitive ones" and proceed with much much much caution. They lie to themselves on a daily basis which means they lie to you regularly. These guys have major emotional issues and refuse to face themselves and have accountability for their actions, and are slightly narcissistic. He does not have the cojones to end the relationship after he somehow convinced you to believe that he really really did love you. These guys are charming. They cry and you feel sorry for them. These guys are not men and function at the emotional level of a 14 year old boy. They would rather lie to you and to themselves all to avoid you getting upset verses them h

Humanity is lazy and longing for luxury on all levels Learning from lamentations will the lift the mind and soul  Leading to lasting fulfillment lingering for eternity

Change is here Slow before tow Ephemera Contentive Transendence  Remembering the good ones End is here Slowly Slowly Grace

Last night I met Ana T. Forrest , creator of Forrest Yoga . She spoke about stalking fear, breathing through it, and conquering the physical and emotional responses to fear that cause us to retreat. Asked her to sign my "magic" notebook and about channeling sexual energy into creative energy. Wonderful woman. - At this point in my life I'm terrified to be sexually intimate with a man. I've allowed my body to be invalidated and used by guys who never appreciated my life force as a woman and a creator.  I was made to feel guilty when not in the mood. Manipulated in to having sex when I really didn't want to, but did it anyway because I didn't want to lose the person. Contracted an STD from a partner I thought was being monogamous and much worse.   Being sexually intimate with a person who can't see you and doesn't want to see you is a rape of the spirit and a dishonor to the female force. These guys are cowards. I've been on this journey

“The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me.” ―   Ayn Rand As I sat in my 1996 Odyssey mini van sobbing, I realized my whole life I've been surrounded by people stopping me. One might say I let them stop me, which is probably true to an extent but hear me out. I use to think this quote was so amazing and really gave it power. I've come to understand that it's all backwards. If I focus attention on people who are going to stop me, what is that really doing? What if I focus my intention on attracting people who will let me. For example: people who let me be myself verses people who try to stop me from being myself. Doesn't that make more sense? I believe the quote should say this: "The question isn't who is going to stop me; it's who is going to let me." It's all about where one puts her attention and focus. Honestly I'm sick and tired of crapy friends, bosses that are threatened by me and

 i went into lululemon for the first time ever today. this girl in the yoga teacher training works there and she wears great pants all the time. (my pants are not really fitting me anymore. strange. i wore pants that i haven't worn in over year since the first week of purchase, and pants i keep around in the hopes of fitting into them someday... someday has come) my body wants to be reclothed so bad. [Last night cousin ella gave me one of our deceased auntie's cashmere sweaters. it's this perfect pink sweater. i can't wait to wear it :) i've been wanting a pair of basic black pumps to wear for work and casual and Last week roommate piya found a bag by the train station with hardly used shoes. she said the bag sat there for about 4 hours. she kept the jimmy choos and gave the aldo's to me (which was exactly what i wanted at the time ] anyway back at the pants. i really want pants that fit me proper. (i want to have more pride in my appearance and estab

I'm very grateful for friends who let me be... me : omg i've been having orgasms in my sleep every night since saturday. one night this guy with major hair took a glass icicle looking thing heated it up and found my g-spot  emhoopes : Holy crap! hahahaha me : i'm having better orgasms in my dreams than i have in real life shit manifesting... i'm going to have fantastic sex the rest of my life. done with bad sex and bad guys got it/getting it out of my system. so what's going on with you emhoopes : I slept in the parlour- well we slept in there i had dreams about wanting cookies and people were making fun of me eating my cookies but I kept eating them hahaha COOKIES!  me : love it!  emhoopes : I am really being aware of how much of my life is ruled by fear Fear all day long. I'm tired of it me : it's time to fart in fear's face  emhoopes : Also, we have a week with no people so I can fart  me : exactly  emhoopes : in my pink room :) 

  The value of my friendship is more than you can fathom/  In just once glance refusal to admit you just can't handle/ You run to escape the tangible version of yourself punishing me for seeing what's in your head and heart/ Blaming me for not being able to see the person you so desire to be/ I know you are lost and I paid the cost on a trip you took for granted/

Post offices are magical places. When we walk in we only get a glimps of what really happens there. A small room with one maybe two people standing behind it; some customers wait patiently and others frantically fill out paper work. About 3-4 times a year I get to enter the "other" side of the post office. At the Lizzadro Museum we send out seasonal newsletters and I get to go pick up the mailing bins to do that. I always feel like Mr. Rogers when I do :) This picture doesn't do it justice. There is a secret basement that leads to the underworld. Next season I will go there... "so jus' chill, 'til the next episode..."-Dr. Dre

About once a month I feen for the Harp . My soul, my body, my mind it just needs her fix like an addict needs drugs. Sometimes I'm a pirate. Sometimes I'm a mermaid. And sometimes I'm both :) Anne Roos has put some good stuff out that deals with pirates, mermaids, and deep sea manic-depression. I stumbled upon this amazing performance and interview of her new CD release in 2009 at a local bar. And here is the interview. With Anne standing next to the flaming tiki torch and letting me know the possibility of saving money on my potential future wedding by popping her album in, I can't help but adore her even more. Back to harps, pirates, and mermaids...

Lately I've been having issues with what I want people to call me. Family and old friends know me as "Katy." People I've meet after age 20 know me as "Kathryn," and my stage/dj name is "Cat Spot" and people currently call me "Cat." None of these are really working for me. Many people in my life have been telling me, "I don't know what to call you. What do you want me to call you?" I've been perplexed by this identity dilemma. Today, all that changed. I had an epiphany while eating brunch at Birchwood Kitchen after late night shenanigans on my rooftop. We were talking about names and nick names. I really don't like any of my names right now. I thought about all the derivatives of Kathryn and then it hit me. "Ryn." Why didn't I think of this before? Why isn't this being used by more people? Holy shit I love it! I'm going to meet my soul mate and he will call me Ryn. I've gone through some maj

A griot visited my dreams last night Woke with a taste for Ali Farka This moon phase has my womb wondering wild Soothed only by the sunday serenade of plucking strings

"Now I see that our belief in progress stems from our fascination with the content of consciousness." - guy laramee I recently stumbled upon this artist and fell in love with his work. Creating off the already created, as most art is. The scenic wonders atop, inside, and around books excite the mind of our past, present and future. Books are a more recent public institution of our society in comparison to primitive times when humans communicated with their immediate surroundings. Laramee speaks of bringing us into this thick "cloud of unknowing," and his work lingers in a hazy wonderment and leads to thoughts of nameless existence.

Every summer my family and I spend time in the Keweenaw Peninsula. Aunt Angela and Uncle Chuck bought the Quincy Hill House back in the 70's. It belonged to the former Quincy Mine's head master. The house is believed to be haunted and as an eerie essence that feels like it's stuck in the 1800's. My cousin Mimi, the oldest of 10 children from Angela and Chuck, invited me over to the Quincy for a telling of the Quincy Hill House story. Most relatives and locales are freaked out by the house because of some paranormal happenings. I've always been enchanted with it. So of course I had to go. The story never gets old. The basement and the attic are two places that no one goes alone. I however didn't want to wait around from someone to go into the basement with me so I just went. I also wanted to see how long I could stay down there till the chills came. This is entrance to the basement. It's is believed that back in the day there use to be an un