guardian peyton Some people would just die If they had an ugly Guardian Angel They want one who looks as if she stepped off a Paris runway. Yet is still otherworldly. They envision theirs as one An actress, a star Dear God, let me take the ugliest angel And I will love him most of all 020508 ... lulie my guardian angel looks like me. 020509 ... pilgrim Sometime in your life You'll hear the call To Be a Guardian Angel You never know when Be prepared But don't think about it Just do the right thing Let the Spirit guide You You'll do just fine I Know it 020510 ... 0of46 my last name translates as "son of the watchman" i suppose that means it is in my blood? 020726 ... jinx The meaning of names... Sondra-helper of mankind My mother tells me to stop worrying about other people so much and to worry about me and to take care of myself first. Then I do, and she calls me selfish and tells me to think of other people and how they feel. Oh yeah, either her maiden name or my last name translates to watchman...that is if I remember what my uncle told me correctly. 020726 ... that damned bird guardian angel? i've never seen mine, it's either been stoned, sleeping or jacking off when i needed it. the devil on my shoulder, however, has been ever-present and quite ubiquitous 020727 ... insouciant The first time I saw the apparition, I froze, stunned with fear. Dozens of times later, after years of confusion and frustration, she became a source of comfort. As my life changed, she remained the same figure, in the same dress, with the same knowing smile. At first the smile haunted me, as I thought she meant me harm. Blood curdling screams resonated from inside my core when I realized the first time I saw her would not be the last. Eventually I cried and I begged, searching for answers in her pleasant but otherwise empty face. She has her patterns, only appearing when I am alone, at dusk or at night. I’m usually calm, but after an emotional day. She picks a spot with some distance, the entrypoint to a hallway or the opposite corner of a room. Her stare seems almost curious, as if she is learning from me as I grow. I imagine she has decades or maybe centuries of subjects to observe. I don’t know what could possibly be so interesting about my life, but her visits correlate with larger events in my life. I have taken to believing she follows me every day, but only appears when she wants to communicate with me. A way of marking the passage of time at a significant moment. Her, forever the same and I, a mess of scrambled life experiences. I am no longer afraid of her, and when I see her I stare back, trying to convey my gratitude for a moment for her guardianship before blinking her away. 221017 what's it to you? who go blather from