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Sister Steel
05 September 2016 @ 09:27 pm
.... to Angel, in honor of the eternal water that cycles through us all

You need to drink water. How many glasses did you have today? Did you buy the bottle and grade it as I told you? You have to. You need to drink water.

You need to be hydrated. If you are not hydrated there are many things in your body that will start malfunctioning, even at a 2% bodyweight deficit. And I can’t have that. I care about that 2%. I care about 0.2%. I care about the one extra molecule of water that your cell needed to keep osmotic balance after taking glucose in.

And you have to take the glucose, all your tissues need it and you need perfect glycemia to be healthy, and you need to be healthy to be happy, and I need your happiness to be happy. I need your happiness to live.

Even if I have to leave you so that you can be in peace and happy, I will leave you peacefully hydrated. And well fed. You need postprandial comfort.

Maybe you will feel a deep sting near the sternum and even if you do, it cannot be a heart attack. That is why I have to take care of you and your blood pressure needs to be controlled. So that when you feel that deep sting, the same I feel, you will know that it is just an involuntary reaction to sadness. To sudden and profound sadness and even some hopelessness. But not a heart attack.

I need to know this sting will go away with a few deep breaths.

You need to breath. You need to learn how to breath away your sadness and then you need to hydrate. And hydrate some more.

And all this water and all this air will wash away the hopelessness first, leaving some numb sadness.

You need to keep hydrating and breathing. With each gulp of water and breath the bad inflammatory reaction to all the stress we caused each other will slowly decrease. Until one day there will be just normal, post training inflammation. No torn tendons or muscles.

And as our tendons and muscles heal, they will function again and we will lift again.

There will be a scar. It will never go away.

And we will never forget. We will never forget the violent wave that washed the two of us to an unknown and scary shore where we lived and loved and barely survived, but we did. Because you kept hydrated and I made sure you did.

You need to promise me that you will not stop drinking water. Even if I am no longer here to remind you, even if I am really no longer here. That you will always remember to hydrate. To hydrate and breath. And brush away the bad thoughts and invite in the happy ones. You must promise me that if that water brings you memories of me, that you will let time perform its filtering job and keep only the good ones. You must promise me that you will let the water wash away all the pain we suffered and that you will only remember my sweaty face smiling at you. That you will only remember how I kept you hydrated with all my waves, my rivers and my lakes.

You must promise me that you will remember me as that river that is always there, but whose water is never at the same place.

And that even though I’m long gone, the river whispers memories of that time.

And that even blood is perfect if diluted in water. A perfect Ruby.


Sister Steel
25 April 2015 @ 07:04 pm

There are animals in me – you never tried to tame them.
There are beasts in me - you feed them and let them loose.
There is limitless power in me – you unleash it
There are unhealed wounds in and on me – you acknowledge them
There is fear of monsters in me – you kill them
There is fear of myself in me – you hold me
There are nightmares in my sleep – you hush them
There are dreams from a timeless place in me – you made them real
You are the man from the Canyon
The boy who gave me his College jersey
Sister Steel
17 January 2015 @ 04:05 pm
Every love is possible. Not every relationship is possible. Not every relationship is possible in its default format: the cohabiting (married or not) couple. All verbalized love is awesome. Not all love can or should be verbalized. Love belongs to he who loves. Nobody can take it away from its legitimate owner. This is good - it can and should be experienced. Not to employ love in a relationship may cause frustration and pain. Dealing with this is part of life, requires serenity and acceptance. Life is not catastrophic because a relationship is impossible. Life is what it is, always surprising. Taking pleasure and satisfaction from the sense of awe caused by the unexpected is an option. Enjoying growth is, too. Suffering with frustration and becoming miserable because of them, also.
Sister Steel
06 January 2015 @ 06:22 pm

(this is the English translation of something published about 3 years ago)

Every woman is a little bit of a mother. Every mother is somewhat the mother of the World. Every woman is a little bit the mother of all the men in her life.

When I squeeze one of them against my belly and try to kill imaginary or real dragons that attack them, this is how I feel.

The men of my life have been everything to me: children, mirrors, brothers, fathers.

The men of my life have been generous to me. With them, I learned the fundamental things of life.

With my father, I learned about pheldspars, which is an essential knowledge for everyday life. I also learned how crystals are formed. Essential, as well. A month ago, however, I picked him up when he tripped and fell over a basket in the middle of the living room. I was glad that he didn’t bump his head again. He asked for chocolate milk.

With my older brother, Mauro, I learned that razor blades pee in the hands of little girls. I was warned that this is the nature of razor blades, so little girls should not mess with them. As soon as he turned his back, I tested his hypothesis. He was right. I also learned that syphilis is a venerable disease, the reason being that it killed the venerable, like King Henry the VIII. He taught me that worms’ breathing system was called “pathogenic osmosis” and that “hormigon” was a huge ant, with powerful claws. *

With my other brother/sister I learned more mysterious things, most of which I still don’t have a full grasp on, and leave me in awe.

With the men I had, or who had me, I learned everything: to have and to lose; to laugh and to cry; to be accepted as I am and to be rejected for what I don’t even understand. I learned about the secrets hidden in my body and in my soul. I learned the worst side of pain and also the best side of pleasure.

I think, however, that the most important thing I learned with the men of my life, especially with this very peculiar class of brother-friends, is that it is even possible to live with less horror because they will be there for me. They will be there, holding my hand in the ghost train, and they will scare the monsters from under the bed. They will say “shh… it’s over” and will calm down the terrorized and bleeding little girl that lives inside me forever. They will get rid of the bad guys and will defend me from the thugs.

It is about these men that I think today.

Every woman is a little bit of a daughter.

* This is all total bullshit, of course: the nature of older brother – little sister relationship includes the right to invent all sorts of nonsense and teach them to the little sister
Sister Steel
06 January 2015 @ 01:21 pm
I am Mother.
I am the mother of a baby.
I am the mother of a woman.
I am the child of my mother. I am the child of my father.
I am the mother of my mother and the mother of my father.
I am the mother of Dragons.
I am the mother of beasts.
I am the child of Steel.
I am the mother of Steel.
I am the mother of the damned.
I am the child of horrors.
I am the mother of Forbidden Thoughts.
I am the mother of Desire.
I am the mother of all men who had me.
I am the mother of their fears.
I am the mother of their sins.
I am the mother of their solace.
I am the mother of Fire.
I am the mother of Justice by fire.
I am the mother of Truth.
I am the child of Pain.
I am the mother or Pain.
I am the Mother of Change.
Sister Steel
04 January 2015 @ 02:33 pm

In the dark and mysterious realm of some categories of love, closure after a breakup may never come. It requires resolve, determination and some science. Oh, the worst part: willingness to look inside ourselves more than inside “the other”.

There is no other expression for it: the whole process sucks. Especially the “looking at yourself in the mirror” thing. Deconstructing “the other” sucks almost as bad.

We think we looked at ourselves in the mirror when we took the blame. Not true: taking the blame is usually self-manipulation. You make yourself look bad enough so that you actually don’t have to understand anything. And then, of course, you’re allowed to depress and feel sorry for yourself. Self pity, a bit of depression, thinking about the great days you had with the person and you, bad dog, sacrificed it all. That’s easy. And misery loves company. It’s easy to share that.

“I’m feeling bad because I lost a great man for being a bad dog…”

“I’m so sorry… let’s drink this into oblivion”

See? Easy.

But not true.

Actually, taking the blame makes us look good. After all, we are so powerful. We screwed up. We made the other person so miserable that we lost him. Bad, powerful dog.

What if we look closely and suspect that we weren’t actually that powerful and that we weren’t actually treated that well?

That we were never that incredibly central and important in their lives? Well, that sucks. For me, it sucks more than anything: it pisses me off. I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t see that powerful monster anymore: I see a stupid gullible woman who got herself into that same old Mr. Wrong Guy relationship.

And then I get angry. More than angry: there’s a volcanic wrath ready to explode inside me. Because nobody makes a fool out of me! Yeah, but he did.

That makes him horrible, right? No, it doesn’t. It makes him… “normal”. And that’s the beginning of closure. When I understand I am furious, ashamed and feeling my pride deeply damaged. Then I do need to deconstruct the perpetrator – however an unwilling wrongdoer he was. He isn’t that great. He’s so… “normal”, so average, so subservient to conventions. Yes, he’s a gray person: he will never shine.

What about that incredible generous man with strong opinions I fell in love with? I have to understand he was partly my invention. Given enough pheromones, I can invent anything. I can create the greatest personality and dress it over an average man. Did I do that in this case? It doesn’t matter. For now, that has to be the working hypothesis.

We have facts: he wasn’t willing to fight for the relationship we had. He wasn’t willing to construct anything: if it fit into his life exactly as it was, good. If not, he would let it go, as he actually did.

So that’s basically the script for reaching closure: looking inside and coming to terms that you are not that great. You were made a fool of – whether it was deliberate or not. There were lies and bad things done to you, so you need to feel they were wrong doings. You need to feel resentment. In my case, it becomes a powerful state of wrath, but that’s me: I’m intense. And in my case, my pride is the most sensitive part of my anatomy. Hurt that and it will take a long time to heal, in which I will growl and bite like a wolf.

After the wound has partly healed (hurt pride might not fully heal in me), then there’s indifference. You don’t feel anything when you see his pictures or writing.

I still have hope, however, that after all that, there might be a time when I may be able to meet that person again and know him for the first time, unstained by the experience I purged though the long closure process.

My hope is based on experience: I have a good friend, who I greatly admire, who was once “the love of my life”. Our parting was ugly. Resentment from both sides. However, we did manage not only to rebuild respect, but we actually and truly like each other. He is a great man, an exceptional man, I enjoy reading his work and exchanging e-mails, and I feel absolutely no attraction for him as a man.

So yes, it can happen.

It takes time, though. A lot of time. It also takes willingness to get to this condition. Both people need to value the other enough as to think the effort is worthwhile.
Sister Steel
01 January 2015 @ 11:02 pm

1.     LIE : Alpha females are always alone. Given the fact that they are aggressive and self-sufficient, alpha females scare men away since men find themselves useless as partners with these women
TRUTH : Alpha females have a vast lineup of males applying for a chance not only to sleep with them, but to be their actual partners (husbands, for those who care for conventions). Most alphas are actually committed. Others may find amusing to spend their later years enjoying the freedom of dating whoever they want, since they have already raised their kids

2.     LIE: Alpha females are so workaholic and work-driven that they will be uninterested in sex
TRUTH: What a laughable joke. Alphas frequently have higher testosterone levels (that’s why they enjoy being so competitive!). Guess what these higher testosterone levels do to their libido?

3.     LIE: Alpha females are not fun to be around. They are always focused on their next professional achievement.
TRUTH: While interrupting an Alpha while she is working on an important project may be hazardous for any person’s health (male or female, with the exception of her offspring, which she will only yell at), as soon as she’s done and she declares “fun time”, her sense of humor will outdo most people’s: sense of humor is directly related to rational cognitive abilities. She has more than anyone else

4.     LIE: Alpha females don’t need/want their partner to show they care, since this can threaten their sense of self-sufficiency
TRUTH: Alphas are human. All humans need their partners to show they care because that is the basic assumption over which people build intimacy.

5.     LIE: Alpha females will do great mistresses since they don’t “need” a man and are self-sufficient
TRUTH: Alphas will never be second to anyone. They are winners. Trying to have an Alpha as a mistress may result in serious damage to your self-esteem, your soul, if you are lucky, and to much more than that, should you make her angry enough. If you want a mistress, don’t even smile at an Alpha
Sister Steel
31 December 2014 @ 12:00 pm
And then one day something really bad happens and the first person you think of is not him. You’re going down into a vortex of meaninglessness again and – hush! – it is a secret. After all, you’re such a strong and powerful Queen. You’re being blended into a mass of slashing shreds of a world shattered by unpredictability, by pettiness, by content-free events, objects and facts. You need to hold on to something solid. What is it?

There’s identity: you need that as normal people need the air. But it’s too hot and you can’t lift if you can’t breath. The bar is there for you, meaning-laden, but far, separated from you by the horror of heat and light.

There’s honor. That stubborn defense of an inner truth, incorruptible by foreign standards. Honor can save you and you think fast while the centrifuge of values threatens your being.

And then you call. You call someone else.

He can’t help you. He can’t hold you tight, look into your eyes with his identity and reach out for yours in a moment when your hands are tied. He doesn’t have one. The fragile simulacrum of an identity is, for him, a patchwork of random elements he picked up here and there with the hesitant critical view he came too late to find useful. He has vague ideas about safety, value, status, stability, and a much vaguer sense of freedom and free will. He is satisfied knowing the food he likes and that he looks good now that he’s older and richer. He doesn’t know who he is and he would be helpless, were he available to help you.

But he isn’t. That would require honor. To be there for his brothers and sisters in arms no matter what. To be there for his love.

But he doesn’t know what brotherhood is, much less what love is. Subserviently following the conventions of the life he coveted as a poor youth, he has no idea what they mean.

He is a good man. He tries. But he got to the Truth Game too late.

You realize you’ll never think of him when the real battles come. When you are alone and your powers fail you.

You like him. He tries his best, but his best is not enough. He’s not whole enough, not honorable enough, not strong enough.

And then you call someone else.

Weak men: they are so easy to love. So hard to deconstruct. Unless the war breaks and they hide or betray you.

Strong men. So hard to love, so much like you in your strengths and your flaws. So scary in how deep they see your insides.

But the only ones you can actually journey together with through danger and mystery. It doesn’t matter how long. Time doesn’t count where there is honor.
Sister Steel
29 December 2014 @ 12:14 pm
I’m a Queen without a king, my Love, a lonely Queen
My kingdom prospers, my love, my kingdom grows
My kingdom has enemies, my love, powerful enemies
But I am a powerful queen
I have been called a warrior queen
A Viking queen
A barbarian queen, mother of beasts, leader of relentless soldiers
But I’m a queen with hidden wounds, my love
Since you left, I’m a queen with a new wound, and it won’t stop bleeding
I can’t be your mistress, my love, because I’m a queen
A queen kneels to no one but her king
A warrior queen subjugates everyone but her king
A queen can only belong to a king
A queen doesn’t cry, my love, she sheds no tears
The tears dry inside her and grow bitter crystals
They are ugly crystals, unlike the ones that protect our hidden chamber
Only a king may extract dried tear drops from a queen’s heart
The dried tear drops make her bitter, my love
They blur her vision so that she can’t see her dreams well
She struggles, my love, because she is a brave queen, a queen with a heart of iron, a queen with the heart of a lion
But the dried tear drops are harder than diamonds
Only her king can extract them, my love, only her king
And if he doesn’t return, the kingdom will cry for her, the kingdom will cry
The kingdom will cry because she will be a sad queen
A strong queen
A fierce queen
A dangerous queen
A bad queen

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Sister Steel
I agree that there are a couple of things that women do that leave men clueless. There are many. I chose the question that no man understands: "do I look all right?"
When I was ready (and after he patiently waited for me to put on all the pieces that went together well, spent time making up and straightening my hair), I asked the question. He looked at me honestly lost and said: "what kind of question is this?"
After all, he had spent hours with me in which he told me, several times, how beautiful I was. I had (and have) no reason to doubt that. But he said that looking at a woman with her hair messed up, her make up all smudged or gone and, well... not much clothing on. Yes, guys, it is awesome to the cube to hear that - please, do it. That is exactly when we want to know we look beautiful.
"Do I look all right" refers to something else. The subtext is: "am I an adequate queen or princess for my king? Am I fit for you? Do my care with my look translate how much I admire you and how much I wish to express it in with careful production of the way I dress, make up and do my hair?"
Contrary to what others believe, this careful and mysteriously time consuming production has nothing to do with looking good for the public, for other women or other men. We actually don't care if there is anyone around. We will actually do the same thing if we are having a candlelight dinner at home, alone. We walk through the restaurant unaware of the looks from other people: all we care is how you look at us.
I know it sounds irrational to ask if you look "all right" after you've been told you are so beautiful many times. This is only because the question hides another question.
So maybe the best answer is Eric Clapton's "you look beautiful tonight". Or maybe it is "you are the best queen for me" or "my best concubine". All she wants to know is if the way she dressed up,  made up and took care of every little detail actually made you feel like the king you are for her.