You Push and I Pelt

Learning From How The Flowers Felt

Unicorns, The Universe and Other Skills

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I suppose it all started when I decided to become a unicorn, which is a mythical creature that doesn’t exist except in the dreams of the middle class voyeurs of weekend erotica. My demands for my individuality drove my husband to the brink of insanity. His jealousy caused him, my sister and his (my matron of honor and self-proclaimed BFF) to try and 5150 me, which I learned without having to experience the act of being committed, is an attempt to declare me insane. Imagine that! A woman in 2014 who creates a virtual identity for her sexuality is a danger to herself or others.

When the police were called because I threw a wine glass at the wall, I grabbed whatever I could from the run down hotel room where all of this freedom was to begin and ran to hide. I knew I looked like the insane woman they claimed I was, for I had grabbed a shower curtain that had been packed up, a few books, my computer, of course, and my Birkenstocks. I had been betrayed by everyone I thought cared for me. It was not the first time I would fall to my knees that month and cry to God. “What the Hell am I supposed to be learning?” I cried it again and again. The crazy woman who collects cans for a living and channels the Dali Lama grabbed me and pulled me aside when I was hysterical. She told me that I’m not supposed to be in control. “Let it go…” she laughed at me. “Just let it all go…” Her hand flitted the words into the wind. But, how was I supposed to let it all go? I had my dogs, no job, no money, no direction, and I knew nobody who would help me. The universe was about to give me my first lesson.

The events that were to unfold from that night are stranger than fiction. Suffice it to say, I am writing this post from an apartment of an ex Israeli soldier who is a French chef and lover of Fellini and Kurosawa films. He drove two hours to pick me up in his Range Rover with no promises of anything. He cooked me dinner. He wanted to hold my hand and listen to opera with me. He is a poet and apparently a very load snorer. He has left me alone here to write. He has fallen asleep in his bed and I could rob him blind, but I won’t, for the universe gives me everything I need when I need it. I am in awe, and I am still learning. I’m still insistent on a few things.

I want to keep my dogs. I made a promise to them-the only living things to stand by me no matter what, so I won’t just drop them at a shelter to save my skin, or to be put in some shelter prison. This insistence has been met with outrage and disbelief. Still, they are fat, happy, sleeping soundly and were just groomed yesterday. Since I’ve been “in transition,” the eccentric name for homeless, my dogs and I are in better shape than we’ve been in years. How fucking funny.

I started with three dogs. A man I am fairly sure is a non-violent kind of crazy fell in love with one of them, Gracie, and kept her. I know she is safe with him, as they drive to Scottsdale Arizona in his BMW. She finally has the one owner who will love her like the princess she is. He told me that he was saving her from me, and I believed him. She needs him as he needs her. He will be her forever home. I still have my 11 year old Shepherd Husky, Jake and my little bitch of a min-pin, Bella. She is irreverent, intolerant, watchful, loyal and just like me, her attitude betrays her size. I have six bags of stuff-mostly clothes, this computer and my music. I still have no car, no job, no desire to work for another asshole ever again, but it seems I have everything I need. I do have the ability to write and post ads on Craig’s List, like my most recent ad, which reads as follows:

Any decent men?

Single female needs decent place to stay for about a month. I need to get my life in order without someone calling me names, or stealing from me. Are there any decent people out there? I can cook, clean and I have other skills too.

Join me on my adventure in LA. Fasten your seatbelts. I have a feeling it is going to be a bumpy ride.

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Author: Julia

I am a writer, storyteller, dreamer and avid researcher. If Monet had painted me as a child, an oil painting of a young girl writing poetry upon a three foot boulder in the woods would be hanging in the Philadelphia Art museum. I am passionate about my ideals. I love new and abstract concepts, taking the path less traveled, reading classic literature, poetry and music and talking about them with friends. Nature inspires me and I respect it. When a spider creeps into my bathtub, I set it free because killing it shakes the universe. For an introvert, I live an adventurous life always trying to be the person my son will admire.

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