look-do-not-touch: Cookies (by Tracey’s Culinary Adventures)
March 17, 2013
April 5, 2012
Rant
Pic Reblog: dontbeafraidoftomorrow
Stereotypes are cruel, and ruin lives. Why do so many people hate each other? Everyone has a soul, and a heart beating inside their chest. Everyone lives only one life. To spend it encumbered by others beliefs, can eat away inside, always concerned how this will come across or that. To be limited in one’s choices simply due to others not comprehending the true self behind the face, position, size, job status, income relatively, or what not. It all is so stifling, crushing, insinuating, and based on lies and deceit. Deceit of those who see without seeing, who lie to their very soul about who it is that they are looking at. Based in fear, or mistrust, ego, vanity, or the like, it all leads to distortion, never seeing what their attitude has done to another, or who that other really is inside.
There are so many stereotypes, that one may find the need to build a life around half truths, just to get by. Yet they can’t speak their very soul, for fear of saying something, that might be taken in such a way, that it could misconstrue their very being, and put them in jeopardy of being misunderstood.
We are not our jobs; or one mistake or two, or three or four for that matter, if it is corrected, if one has changed. We are not what we look like, or what we wear, what we drive, where we live, the color of our skin, how much money we make, or any of this other nonsense that is the basis upon so many other assumptions. Don’t put people in a box, or yourself for that matter either. We are what is inside.
Not everyone is given the same opportunities. And that’s okay. Count yourself lucky if you were born on the right side of the tracks. But do not look down on those less fortunate. For you do not know what it takes to claw your way up out of that black hole.
Fat people are not always fat because they are gluttons. Sometimes it is an illness, or an injury, or lack of knowledge in time.
Beautiful ladies are lovely, not necessarily dumb, or lucky for that matter. Maybe they worked hard to look that way. You never know. It could be an accomplishment.
Several actresses got their start in a strip bar. They are the same person now that they were then. But who’s worshipping them now, everyone.
Gay people are born that way. This world is so full of hate. Imagine having feelings that you didn’t ask for and you can not change. What one decides to do or not do about it is their business. It wasn’t a choice for them. They are different. Imagine if you were different than you presently are. Imagine if you were inside a body that looked and felt differently than you. Would this be your fault? Of course not. And if you could choose, why would anyone choose a life where so many would hate them for what they are? They wouldn’t, and that’s the point. They did not choose to be that way. It was thrust upon them, a gift for being born.
And race, where do I begin? Prejudice is color blind. It does not matter what color your skin is or where you came from, prejudice is free for all to find, be or experience. But why? Why? There are bad people of every color. It has nothing to do with race. It’s only on the inside that is the truth of it all. A book can not be judged by it’s cover.
And the propaganda, people eating it up, consuming it like candy. Please don’t feed the machine. Not until it decides to play fair and square. When someone makes money off of belittling someone else, this is not a game to be watched, it’s hypocrisy, America land of the free.
It’s all about the heart and looking past all of that. You say it’s not me? Well maybe not. But it’s all around, as far as the eye can see. All of the jokes, the laughter, the comments everywhere….It’s sad. It’s such a sad thing to see. And it’s frightening me.
Copyright Kat Lyons
Pic Source: chanelbagsandcigarettedrags Pic Reblog: princesses-only
December 10, 2011
October 31, 2011
Dandelions
The world is dressed in costume, the children walking house to house….She has been watching the world go by, in her room. Pneumonia got her in it’s throes, all month long, worsening as the month is nearly gone. Flowers and candies, music, her melodies on her mind…They keep her company, as the clock ticks right on by. Her melodies they live and thrive, humming them she hears, they’ve reached a level she loves and adores. Now she longs to hear her music on a C.D., just so that she can hear it streaming through the air.
Rocking to and fro, swimming in the abyss, fever, cold, aches, barely able to walk, and pain everywhere….A flu that never ends, ceaseless in it’s tirade, with a heavy dose of feeling bad, more then a normal flu does…Day in and day out this pain, yet she looks upon loveliness. Things that she has only dreamed, have now become reality. One dream down, many more to go. She begins to contemplate about the other dreams in her mind. Some are little. Some are not so small. But now she knows, they can be had; for one of them came true. And so it’s time now to believe, and to set down the steps in reaching these. Watching the flowers grow in amongst the stepping stones…Her mothers’ eyes all aglow, her skin getting clearer and brighter, more young still, stripping away the years, as the smiles now cross her soul.
Unpacking and unpacking, where does this go, and where does that? Rummaging and finding things in boxes put away years ago….The bed welcomes her in it’s arms, a downey soft. It knows she’s ill. It warms her and is thrilled, to be used, to be needed, to be recognized for it’s comfort which it gives.
The crowded rooms, lines of friends coming to and fro, one box after another, have gone their way. Now it is time to imagine, time to spin, time to just be.
Copyright Kat Lyons
Pic Reblog: girlinlondon Pic Source: Flickr / thegirlwhotamedthetiger
September 22, 2011
Lemon Meringue Pie
Picture Source: Flickr / ceciliasun Picture Reblogged: thouartminenow
She has been hungry, longing to suffer less, to give more, to create and do, to be, to become, and to feel empowered. She has a strange way of looking at life. For she realized that there was a vast uncharted territory for that which has not been discovered or created. Therefore instead of looking to the age old wisdom which drops from their lips like honeycomb, she instead would stare blindly like a deer in the headlights, and turn left or right, away from the dissent. Then she would go about her business. Now this has caused her some distress, for risk does not always mean reward. This was one of her mistakes. She assumed that if she risked, and risked, and risked, for love, for the ideal of love in art and creation as an assignment from God, then the reward would have to come. She did not believe that fail was an actual word to be used in her vocabulary. But fail she did. For one risk was too high. She fell. And in doing so she learned something about risk. You must take into consideration what would happen if you did not succeed, in whatever endeavor in which you are risking it all for. Could you stand it? For if not, then the risk is too high.
But life went on.
Blaring voices, screeching cars, lights from the cop cars turning, a barren room in the dark, her hands over her ears, the pressure building, inside her emotions collide.
But the sun came out, and it all went away. She landed in a new life with new dreams, ones which she hadn’t even considered. Wiping her eyes she could suddenly see again.
Never in a million years did she think that she would be here, in this spot, in this year. She thought she had it all planned, properly. Well not exactly. She knew, she knew that it didn’t all add up to two. But she decided to stop crying over spilled milk, and instead to make a lemon merinque pie out of all of the lemons on the ground.
And so she will get to open her shutters and watch the sun stream through. Her suffering is seemingly over, the worst of it that is. Her clothes had been in tatters, her hair as long as a horse. Now she gets to live again.
The papers are sky high, for they are all calling her. Fill out this and fill out that! It’s as if they noticed that she needed to run and they want to stop her. Because of this, they will make the move much more difficult then it had to be. Going from one errand to the next…This is why she insisted on a few days to rest. Because now it is time to run a race. She is at the starting line. The gun goes off, and she looks down the field as she feels air underneath her feet, as she passes by.
Copyright Kat Lyons
Picture Source: glitter-graphics.com
September 17, 2011
Time Is Now
Picture Source: moodswingsonthenet
All she wanted was love, and girly things. It seemed like such a difficult equation for others to comprehend. Because they put her in a category, of being a nerd. They thought she wouldn’t like pretty things. They thought she lacked style. When it is simply that is all she was forced to wear. Becoming a pretty girl in high school, her mother really wanted to dress her conventionally. These are the things that mattered for so many years.
But as time passed by, what began to matter, is the love that she had never understood was there waiting for her taking. She didn’t understand her mothers’ love. It was invisible to her. But once she was able to take off the wrapping, it blinded her eyes. She always wanted her step sisters love, and her daddy’s love. She wanted to have a family. She wanted to be adored. But this didn’t come her way through them. So she found adoration elsewhere.
She found those who looked up to her, who were jealous of her, who saw her as powerful. She thrived in this environment, because it allowed her talent to be set free. She could develop magic that she saw in her minds’ eye. It took patience, diligence, and work. But it felt satisfying because she was creating something.
But this disappeared into thin air. It was as if the accomplishments were dissolved into societies leanings, television, and music videos, adapted to what she herself had personally invented and developed through the years. They stole her ideas like candy. So many years spent creating something wonderful, all to have it snatched up and to disappear. But she still has her soul, her spirit, the memory.
She learned the hard way that her ideas were something which others would take for granted, and use. She should be a millionaire. Her ideas changed society as we know it today. But her name is not known. No one cared how long it took for her to create it. So this time, she knows, to keep it to herself, until it’s done, until it’s wrapped up in pretty paper, with her name on it, officially in the book, written down. This time she knows, not to show, not to tell, what she has left. For she has given her life for these ideas. It’s her life and her intellectual property. If no one likes it, she will still create it. If they love it, she will thrive. Either way, she’s got to get there. But she is here.
She used to think that life was created by just a few steps. Now she realizes that the future is never here. For it is always now. And “there,” is such a distance from “here.” But her melodies sounding like they do presently to her ears, was so far away then. So she knows if she just keeps taking one step after another, she has a chance of getting there.
But today is today, and today has it’s limits. Yet today also has it’s beauty. And in that is where she has chosen to live.
Copyright Kat Lyons
Picture Source: Flickr / xoxowcw Picture Reblogged: look-do-not-touch
August 24, 2011
The Answer
She lived a life running in circles, while building something in the middle. Everyone tried to stop her from building it, and she’s building it still. But the circles, now that wasn’t fun. For she couldn’t figure out how to stop it. The mind train chugging along. Every step forward meant another delusion that it was any different then before, just another chapter in this forgotten land, arid and dry. It was full of dreams, and mystery, sunlight peaking through only to taunt her there. The story went on and on, each new scene creating another masterpiece of a story filled with pain and intrique. But really it wasn’t a happy thing to live through. Somehow she couldn’t stop it. Until she got down on her knees and begged. She begged God to fix it, and first to take away her deep deep sadness so profound. He gave her a kitty. How simple is that. That solved the happiness problem. Next though wasn’t so easy. He ripped away her ability to function in her life as she knew it, so that she could no longer punch that dreaded time clock. It simply couldn’t be done. Broken and in pieces she didn’t know that she had someone who would pick her off the floor. No one seemed to understand the extent to which her back was broken. The pain shooting in all directions, the exquisite pain was so extreme she was surprised she didn’t go blind. Much more she was surprised that she could sleep. Like lightening, the pain was so intense that it took all of her strength not to wail and scream every bloody minute for years upon years. And little things became hard, like trying to bend over, or trying to stand up. But as time went by, her life started over.
She always wondered how much time one had to experience inbetween adulthood and old age. Try and try as she might she could not fathom the degree of years to life and what that all meant as to how much time she really might have if she were to live that long. She always wanted to know. Suddenly when the clock struck three, she looked up to find that it had actually struck six. All of a sudden she could see, from now to then, and back then. When she were young the age of her mother at the time, to the age of her mother now, is the time she had herself from then to now. And all of a sudden the long awaited answer finally made sense! Now she could understand just how much time she had from now until then, in a relative way of understanding just what that meant in the way of experiences available relative to time within that frame. Not bad, it’s definitely not as much as she would wish, but it doesn’t sound as bad as she had thought it was either. For that is enough time, for all of this starting over to come together and to have a new life, another chance, a last chance, but a good chance, you see. There was enough time, if God would allow her this, to be able to go and see and be and do everything she’d always wanted to. But there was no time for inbetween, going down the wrong road. No it was time to finally do it she knew there was no question. But the thing in the bottle she needs is health and vibrancy to build and create go do and be for all of that time ahead. And so of course that must be a priority, next she sees. As she imagines looking out her future bedroom windows and over the lawn, it has all come together in the middle, like a stoutly tree. She has grown strong up through the middle. Now she just needs to let her branches grow, and hopefully it will all be just fine. Looking out over the hillside, she looks forward to doing this, what she was born to do, every step of the way.
Copyright Kat Lyons
Pic 1:Mike Saechang Pic Reblog:look-do-not-touch Pic 2 Reblog: girlinlondon
August 16, 2011
August 5, 2011
July 15, 2011
July 7, 2011
July 5, 2011
My second blog is “Girl From The Bay,” http://kat-toy.tumblr.com/
July 3, 2011
June 30, 2011
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So much is happening right now in my personal life and I don’t know whether to discuss it on the blog? This site acts as a place of positivity and...
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Anonymous asked: How'd you get you're blog started? Did you have to increasingly get the word out for people to follow you? Or did you simply just continue posting until people followed themselves? Thanks! (:
More of the latter. I began this blog in December 2007. At the time, I was a junior in college working in my campus’ housing department. I started...
