Welcome to Gaia! ::

ok hey when will the letter contest be done , by the way?

*hits head on rock* it's never done each month a person has a chance to win. The contest is done for this month....but as soon as it hits the first you have a chance to win the next months letter.

Raw..... your nickname is cabbi....it's hard not to think that neutral

*puts on tutu* violet makes me want to....Dance!

your the one that said it XP
the care bearsrock!!! >D I have carebear boxers!!!!
*grins* yeth....is it my color? *shows off tutu*
my sister had a cabage doll thing.

Yes grass hopper

I may email as well, just in case. I know it's easier for -me- to read in a word doc. [quote="Descending from the Sky"] She turned away from me as the towel fell. Through the haze of incense burning, I met the pointed stare of a phoenix. It moved as she bent, singing a melody too beautiful for me to hear. It was a phoenix of red and gold, with blue streaks along its edges, and it covered her entire back side, nape to left heel. I asked her why. She sighed, melancholy and smiled, as she turned to me. It was hard to say who was more beautiful- Skye or her phoenix. She bent to the incense, breathing in deeply, touched the pendant resting around her neck, and began to explain. “The phoenix is a miracle, crash-and-burning to the ground to rise anew, stronger and more wondrous than in its previous life. It is a symbol of Jesus, risen from the grave, or the karmic circle, or reincarnation in the works. I [i]am[/i] the phoenix,” she said, “or, I mean to be.” [i] I mean to be[/i]... What could she mean by that? Her life was easy. She wrote the days away, smelled of nag champa incense and danced like a goddess. She performed Tarot readings on alternating nights at a New Age store down the road and spent her breaks at the Cafe that her engaged friends, Halle and Joe, owned. “You only know the 'risen-from-the-ashes' me, Jane. Three years ago, I was homeless. I saw ghosts in my peripheral vision, and I was in and out of rehab centers across the East Coast. Tarot, runes, incense... those were my saving graces. Halle found me,” she said, “and read my cards. It was as if someone had drawn my life, my mind, onto these little cards. She just... knew.” My eyebrows raised to question marks and I told her I didn't understand. She paused. “I'll show you,” she told me. She leaned over me, breasts lightly brushing just beneath my lips, and lit the sage next to the bed. We both inhaled, savoring the scent of calm, as she drew a silk-wrapped package from the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Skye carefully unfolded the silk square, removing a Tarot deck, and held the cards out to me. “Shuffle.” “For how long?” I asked. “However you long you need to.” The deck was the length of my hands, palm base to fingertips, and stretched from pinky to pointer. The back was a dark blue spotted with silver stars, calling to us like the night sky and promising dreams and other mysteries. I mixed the cards, pulling some from behind and letting them fall into place. After a time of fixating on the hypnotic deck, I chose instead to quietly admire Skye. She was leaning against the headboard, eyes closed and her hand supporting her chin. She breathed deeply, heavily, meditating. She had drawn the sheet around her, warming her legs and stomach, and just barely covering her breasts. My shuffling slowed as I became mesmerized by a more natural beauty than the cards. “Have you finished?” Skye opened her eyes. I muttered, “Uh...Yeah.” [i]Did she see me staring?[/i] She asked me to cut the deck into three piles with my left hand. I did, moving right to left and forming three uneven, misshapen stacks, which she then swept together, moving left to right. She caught my eyes, whispered, “Are you ready?” and waited for my quiet nod. Using her left hand, she slid the top four cards forward, flipping them sideways to reveal their faces. “I don’t turn them top-ways,” she explained, “because then it would reverse the card and change the entire meaning.” My first card was upside down. There was a nude woman, beautiful and young, kneeling among trees in the light of the stars. In each hand, she held a carafe, blue in her right and red in her left. The blue pitcher emptied water into a small pool where her right foot was submerged, and the red poured down in a wave to her left. Her fair hair was long, wavy, and luxurious, and her eyes were half-closed and content. “The Star,” she read to me. “Reversed. You were sick in your past, both physically and mentally. Your body was run-down by stress, and your mind by the narrow-minded stubbornness of those close to you. You became mistrusting of others, cynical and pessimistic, and you lost on a number of opportunities because of that.” Without waiting for a response, her hand grazed the next card. In my head, though, I saw another beautiful blonde. “The Page of Pentacles, upright.” A young man stood gazing at an orange and red landscape, with trees, a lake, and mountains in the distance. He donned a red cap, proud, with a pheasant's feather protruding from a brazen clasp upon it. His tunic was an earthy red and brown, and on his arm, much like a shield, hung a large coin- the pentacle. Skye continued, “You're practical. You work slowly but steadily, and you're very focused on what you do. You are serious, yet sincere, and you love the simplicity and satisfaction of working with your hands.” I couldn’t think of what to say. I watched Skye’s fingers tracing the image on the card, and she looked up at me. “Am I on the right track?” She asked me. I gulped. “Yeah.” I wanted to see how this would pan out. I tried to keep my face as blank as possible, and I nodded to her. [i]Go on[/i]. The third card was an aureate celebration; four rods made pillars that bore a garland of roses, grapes, and beautiful ribbons. In the near horizon, just within reach lay a castle, set high upon a hill. “The Four of Wands, Reversed. You've begun to realize the weight of your past, and how the negativity has burdened you. You need to start letting go, forgive your friends, maybe family, for hurting you before. Whether their beliefs have changed or not, you can still lead your own life. You've begun to trust again, and have learned that life can be good to you, good for you. Focus less on why or how they have let you down, and more on what's to come, what adventures lie in store for you, what people are waiting for you to find them and lead their lives away with you.” [i]That’s just it[/i], I thought, and I glanced at her with shaky lips and damp eyes. “And finally,” Skye smiled, “the-” “Wait.” “Of course.” I sat there for a few minutes, staring at the card, trying to push back the images of the blonde girl, trying to think of Skye instead. “Jane? Are you okay? I can put the cards away-” “Seventeen.” [i]No. No, of all the things I could croak out, why that[/i]? “Seventeen what?” Now Skye was the confused one. I was shivering. Everything that had been bothering me, nagging me, pushing down on me was right there, on her lips and in those cards. It burst out of me. “I was seventeen when my parents left me. They turned their backs. Couldn't have a gay for a kid. They kicked me out, and my best friend's family took me in.” “Oh.” She remained silent for a moment, and then added, “I’m sorry, Jane.” She moved to clear the cards, and I let out a small yelp. “No, please. Not yet.” “Ok.” Her hand hovered ever so briefly over the final card, waiting to be revealed, before withdrawing to her lap. I chewed on my lips. Skye and I had shared a lot over the past few weeks, but it had been light-hearted chatter, like what music we enjoyed or our favorite foods. She was too confident a person; I had wondered if I had set my sights too high when Skye had walked out of that shower with the towel barely covering her, either ignorant of the way my gaze had devoured her, or simply too accustomed to the treatment to care. We were just friends, I thought, and new ones at that. There was something about the way she looked at me, though. I tried to figure out how she had pierced my defenses so easily already, and tried to figure out how her deck had known so much. She interrupted my thoughts. “Jane?” “Hm?” “We can stop the reading if you’d like. We could talk, or if you’d prefer, we could go to bed. I can get the pillows and extra blankets-“ “No, I want to hear the last card.” “If you’re sure?” I hesitated slightly, but she looked so worried that I nodded. She turned over the last card, and smiling, explained, “The Ace of Cups. My favorite card.” The card was stunning. From a sky and sea of a radiant blue, out of clouds pointed a fist clasping a golden chalice overflowing with water, and from which rose a halo of sunlight. Overlooking the cup was a white dove, wings outstretched, and in the foreground grew a pink lotus, petals wide and reaching. “This card represents new beginnings, hope, love, joy. It is budding relationships, it is family, and it is friends. You have happiness in store for you, excitement and inspiration. Keep yourself open to them. You've started regaining trust; here's where you can let it roam. Open your heart to new ideas, to new energies, to new loves.” Her gaze lifted to mine, and she smiled, her eyes searching mine.”What do you think?” “I think…” I paused, and I saw Skye. I did not see the blonde girl haunting my memories. I did not see my family, with forlorn and dark faces, standing at the doors like security guards to our house. Their house. I did not hear insults being thrown at me. I did not hear the words “I’m not gay. Sorry.” I saw Skye, heard Skye, and knew it was only Skye. “I think,” I tried again, “that maybe it’s my turn to tell the story.” “Okay.” “After my parents disowned me, I tried to stop being gay. I dated a few guys, but it didn't work. My dates caught me staring at the girls and it was pretty clear where my mind was. A year and a half later, I kissed her.” “Who?” “Anna. She was nineteen and was studying to be a surgeon. We met in Bio 101 and drew funny pictures of our professor with these crazy a** mustaches. First loves fall hard, and I fell down, down, down, loving with more and more of my heart each day.” I paused, my fingers soothed by the smoothness of the cards. “At least, that was the case until she stopped sitting with me in class. Until she stopped answering my phone calls, stopped even looking at me when I pled with her. She decided: She didn't like girls anymore. She couldn't.” “Oh, Jane,” Skye crooned, her hand reaching for mine. I wasn’t quite ready yet, and my hand pulled back towards me. I shook my head, [i]No[/i], and took a deep breath to continue. “I wasn't with anyone else for a long time after that, and even then, it was never anything serious.” Skye said nothing now, but sat there, holding my gaze, with her arm partially outstretched- a reminder,[i] I’m right here, if you need me[/i]. “I studied more, looked for another job, and just kept on working. I had enough money to pay rent, buy food, and splurge on books. I could read. I could write. I could bake. I realized I hated what I was studying, so I dropped out. I figured out what it took to be a baker, and enrolled in a culinary institute. I baked and baked and baked and baked. I needed a coffee shop to retreat to, and I stumbled upon Halle's Café. It was just what I had wanted, so I visited there for my morning espresso jumps. Halle told me when Joe proposed, so the next day, I made her a cake to celebrate. That’s when she offered me the job. Making pastries and cakes for her coffee shop.” I took a long, deep breath, letting the sage wash its calm over me, and finished, “So yeah… Here I am.” Skye’s fingers reached closer to mine, moving slowly, gently; with one little inch at a time, our hands became entwined. We started slow, our hands dancing, meeting officially for the first time. Her other hand eased to my cheeks, embracing them like long-lost dear ones, glad to be home. I was becoming ever more aware of her every touch. The minute hairs on my face rose to meet her skin; her hands called out to my flesh, bringing color to my cheeks and warmth to my entire face. Her fingers moved from my cheeks to my hair, combing with such a soft weight that it was easy to drift into sleep; but I refused to fall into the depths of dreams. My free hand now traveled to Skye’s face, long and unmarred. It traced the contours of the tip of the phoenix’s beak, peaking just over her shoulder as a reminder it was there. “I think I understand now,” I said, and I gathered the cards, replacing the deck to its satiny embrace on the nightstand. I drew her to me. I kissed each elegant hand of hers, first her left, and then her right. I turned her palms upwards, cradling them in each of my own, and told her what I saw in them. Beauty. Creativity. Sensuality. Inspiration. Love. Most importantly, love. I kissed each palm, tracing each long line, and drew her arms around me. I guided her to the pillow, and began tracing the contours of her phoenix and of her spine. She guided my lips to section after section of her back, a certain feather or beak line, as she whispered everything she had left behind. “The Beak”. Her parents fought, often and violent. Sometimes he was drunk; other times she was. Sometimes it was about Skye. When they were both drunk and had exhausted their issues with each other, they would hear her, hidden behind a door. They turned on her. Lazy, they had called her. Unappreciative. Spoiled. Rude. She became silent until she left them. She was sixteen. “The Wings. At nineteen, I was homeless. I quit my job,” she said, “because I was sick of the hypocrites I worked with and I thought I deserved better. Turned out ‘better’ was eating out of trash cans and sharing needles with the guy with no teeth and too much hair. It was all I could do to stay warm. Christmas Day, I found myself tip-toe balancing along the bridge by city hall. I had faced the water and spread my arms out like a great, giant bird ready to take flight. I saw my father, mother, the empty handles of alcohol; I saw prescription bottles rattling in angry fists, saw tattooed stomachs and flaccid penises begging, saw red and black and grey and –” Skye stopped, her voice caught somewhere in her chest, and she could only whisper. “I saw fire, from my feet, tingling up to my scalp, and then I danced, turning and crying and falling, all the way back to life.” “The Tail. Twenty-one.” She almost remembered meeting Halle and Joe in front of the library when she was shaking from withdrawal and cold, saving her. She remembered Halle reading her palms, her cards, her runes. She remembered when Halle and Joe gave her that first deck, her favorite deck, the one with the midnight sky on its back. She remembered spending hours in the library stacks, reading about mythology and Tarot and Wicca and magick, remembered cleaning Halle's apartment and cooking dinners in thanks, remembered Halle calling her 'roommate' for the first time. She remembered reading her cards for the first time, reading Halle and Joe's cards for the first time. Reading the cards without the books and notes. She remembered the day they told her to open up a Tarot corner at their Cafe, and remembered too, when a spot opened up at the New Age store where she bought all her incense. She remembered burning the letter her father sent her after 5 years of nothing, and remembered blowing the ashes out of the apartment window, pinch by pinch. “The Feet. The Claws. That was just last year. I published my first book,” she said, “Poems. My mother died. I kept on writing. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote. Around New Year’s, I sent my father a letter;[i] I forgive you[/i], I said. I wrote. I hid my smile when Joe knelt down and Halle shrieked “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes!”; I still won’t tell Halle that he let me know ahead of time. I wrote about how I wished for what they had, for someone of my own to trust. I bought a dress, dark red like Halle had asked, and wrote down the store names and prices of all of the white dresses that Halle continued to flip-flop between. I went to that party. I met Jane.” I pulled myself under the sheet, smoothing it over my body, and she helped cotton meet flesh. We joined bodies then, matching phoenix to breast and hand to hand, hand to hair and lips to mouth. We stripped away the past, rising to the present, and read each other. I saw fire then, too, like Skye had on the bridge, and her long dark hair wrapped around us, leading me in my own dance. We emerged from my ashes the next morning, and I ascended into my own life. [/quote] ...i'm [i]back[/i]. :)

13.
Ahh I must go now I got school tommorw xp