San Francisco beckons to me all the time. When I visit, I’m surrounded by beautiful people and big hugs and cheek kisses and a city that has growth policies I respect.
So, last weekend, even though by all financial standards I shouldn’t have made a trip a week before Christmas, I went. To see Queenie and Carl and Frank and Grace and all of my other friends that were working Dickens Faire. I couldn’t have made the drive by myself, so luckily Mattie was down to go and drove with me.
We arrive. The hotel came very highly reviewed and was relatively cheap (but not the bottom of the barrel… all good signs), and was off of Market. And about a block away from the Tenderloin. Hm. Pulling up, there was a pack of homeless dudes shouting about one being the King of Everything, which made me think of that Sara Barielles song, and I wanted to ask him who made him the King of Anything, but naturally, I value my life, so I kept walking. The front desk guy was an absolute idiot (turns out he’s the owner’s cousin..OF COURSE, or he would’ve been fired) and when we get to our room, we can’t help but laugh. There are cheesy jungle scenes painted along the upper edge of the wall, the beds are two small, shaky, twin beds, and the shower head looks like it’s been there since 1973. We wander up Market, past drunks that couldn’t walk and small Asian women bundled in 12 jackets hurriedly sifting through the dumpsters. I cut off the bite marks on what’s left of my pizza and leave it on the edge of a trashcan so someone who’s hungry won’t have to sift for it. When I walk by 5 minutes later, it’s gone, and I smile.
We try to sleep, but the ice machine and ancient elevator thump through our paper thin walls all night and we wake up tired and short-tempered. I go downstairs, politely ask to check out and when I’m told that I can’t without a 24 hr warning, I politely throw a bitch fit and get moved to a more adequate room. Matt and I move our bags and head out to Dickens.
After finally getting inside, I can see his face light up. He’s never been to an indoors faire like this, and I can see that he’s marveling at the transformation. There are shows on every corner and he meets my wonderful friends and we eat wonderful food and wander, buying a few nifty cups and leaving early. We stop by Frank’s apartment which, funnily enough, is two blocks away from our shitty hotel. He’s being a gem and picking up his best friend/roommate from work so she doesn’t have to bike in the rain, but recommends we wait for him at a café around the corner called Hooker’s Sweet Treats. We wander up Nob Hill, walking in the rain just because we’re young and capable and can, and finally get curious why we haven’t found it yet. I ask a lady if she’s heard of it and her expression flickers warily when I say Hooker’s. As soon as she realizes I’m referencing the café, she smiles and says she buys the sweet cheddar biscuits whenever she can, and as she walks away I actually take in what she’s wearing. I look at Matt and he’s shaking his head and laughing under his breath. “Did I just ask a legit hooker where Hooker’s was?” He laughs harder, and we continue downhill chuckling. Only here, I say. What a random story that’ll be.
We grab Frank and Jen, who I immediately fall in love with, and go to grab a bite at a Mexican joint. Quickly, because we have to pick up Queenie and Carl to go to the Castro Theater to see Tron. The hammered brass ceiling is a marvel, and I feel like a child staring up up up and smiling and the dark Buddhas and Indian gods that ring the center. The organist plays for ten before the curtain rises and the movie starts. Frank forgot to grab his 3D glasses to I have to go up to the lobby and grab him some, slipping on umbrellas and punching a woman in the head in the process. I go the other way coming back, and all the sweet queens are much more understanding then the bitchy lesbians on the other side.
I smile at Frank and kiss his cheek, happy that he’s here with us.
My guys and I wander the Castro afterwards, laughing at the antics of drunkies and discussing the more disgusting aspects of the city, like someone who shit in Frank’s lobby last week. They had to pressure wash it off of the wall. Ugh. I like being reminded of the unglamourousness of the city; it keeps me from feeling like an awestruck tourist.
We part ways with Carl and Queenie, giving big hugs and professing love. They’re my de facto gay husbands, we laugh. I’m going to move in to their new flat with them in three years when I’m done with my grad degree and we’re going to take San Fran by storm. We’ll buy a flat in one of the grand Victorian houses and they’ll be the uncles to my foster children.
Frank, Matt and I head over to where Jen is working her double shift of the day as a cook at a rad indie bar not too far from the Loin and the hotel. She makes me a stoner sandwich (nacho cheese Doritos in a grilled cheese with tomatoes) and Matt and I people watch and I smile at Frank as he sings cheesy rock songs and plays drums on his knees. I adore him so much it aches. I can feel it palpitate and pulse with the rhythm of my heart while I look at him, and I’m happy that my affection, while one-sided, has such a worthy recipient.
We go to leave and he says he’ll be leaving shortly after us, and shows me his brass knuckles that he keeps in his rear pocket to ward of zombies and crackies. Zombies, for those of you who might now know, is an endearing term for those who may not be on drugs but are still crazily wandering the streets anyway. He laughs loudly when he recounts the time he was almost mugged by the grocer outside his building; the guy said, “Hey, can I have your wallet?” And he showed his knuckles with a smile, and the guy smartly backed away, hands in the air, saying, “nevermind, friend.”
I hug him, big and deep outside. I push my face into the curve of his neck, deeply inhaling the herb scent that’s been on him all night. The sage he burned in his apartment earlier, maybe. I would hug him every moment of every day for the rest of my life if I could. If he was less of a conundrum. Of a heart confusing mystery. I still hope for a future that has him in it on a more regular basis, but I’m trying to keep it in check. I don’t want to love Frank so much that it’ll hurt me.
This is where the trip gets hilarious. We drive the few blocks back to our hotel, find amazing parking, and notice that it’s in a tow away zone for street cleaning the next morning. Whoops. Time to go hunting again, and we finally find something halfway back to the bar 40 minutes later. Walk back to the hotel. Hookers and drunkies and crackies and indie kids thinking it’s so posh to be in the Loin are raucous all around us. We get back to the hotel, note that the idiot is back on shift, and head up to our new and hopefully quieter hotel room. Why isn’t my key working? Mattie, try yours. Hm. What’s that sound? Is that…Russian? And sure as shit, a half naked Russian man opens the door, yelling at us, and I hear in broken English from a woman further in the room, “WHAT DO THEY WANT?!” as if we’re the people from downstairs suddenly manifested at her door, about to break in and ravish her old, soft, commie body. This is our room, I say. Where is our stuff?! And he points downstairs, and Matt and I look at each other in bewilderment that quickly becomes anger as I feel like a tornado rushing downstairs to unleash banshee hellfire on this fucking retarded establishment.
There sits our bags by a desk downstairs, easily accessible by any of the tweakers that wander this lobby, and I feel my fury bubbling up. I explain the situation, seemingly ten times over at this lumpy, stupid mass of man, and he keeps passing the buck to someone else. Look, I say. I know this isn’t your fault, but this is completely unacceptable, and you need to fix it. I want a nice room, right now, and I’m not going to pay for it. He does, lucky for him, and we go to bed. I’m happy you didn’t unleash on him, Matt says. Anyone who’s worked customer service has been in that position, but if it’s not fixed tomorrow, make the owner cry.
We sleep.
Al’s Diner the next morning with C and Q. Delicious food and being served by the oldest working waitress in the city. She serves Queenie a tomato soup that is “pure east coast; no one knows how to make it but my sister,” which is word-for-word what she said last time I ate here in the summer about the Navy bean soup. Needless to say, each was phenom, and we left fat and happy. Going down to Market, I found an antique silver fork, stamped in 1874, that was twisted and molded into a ring that was just my size and only five bucks. Finish it with a frog beanie and my shopping in the city was done. I was pretty proud about my restraint.
We drop off Queenie and Carl, hit Amoeba on Haight, where Matt gets the Pixies first record, and drive home. As we’re driving through Pomona, Matt gets the genius idea of hitting Aladdin Jr, one of our fave Mediterranean spots, and we do so, leaving again being happy as a clam.
I arrive home, tired, glowing, and so happy that I went. Financially, it was a flat-out stupid move, but I literally felt like killing myself before I went, and I had to run away to my favorite city to smile with my friends and kiss their cheeks and hold their hands and hug them to me to feel myself love vividly again and remember what life without pain can be like.
I feel like I’m counting the heartbeats before I can see them again. I love you, friends.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Junkyards.
My brother was taking his sweet time wrapping up a story when I (somewhat rudely) asked him, “Okay, okay, what’s the whole point of this?” To which he responded, “Hey, it was a good day.”
The simplicity of that. It was a good day. And I realized the next morning while I was eating pancakes across from Melanie and recounting yet another random series of events that the simple statement is the tip tap tempo of my life. It was a good day. Every day is a good day, and the days that aren’t are just sad hiccups between the last amazing 24 hours and the next one around the corner.
Yesterday I went to a junkyard to look for a carburetor for the Falcon with my brother. As we wandered the crunchy gravel and he bemoaned the fifty-year-old Jeep flatbed lying harvested next to crappy Ford escorts, I marveled at him. At myself. At the sad and desiccated beauty surrounding us; why do I think rusted metal is so pretty? And the haphazard tilt of the cars, their emblems strewn about on the ground, their insides pulled out and lying forgotten around their edges. Some of them caved in from accidents, some of them burned. There were people in them when that happened, I realize. I hope they got out alive. I wonder if they cried over the loss of the car the way my mom always has whenever one died; she would form an attachment to them as if they were pets, with emotions and temperaments and hidden agendas. There is oil everywhere, and my hands are covered in the slick grittiness from the grease and crud covering the carb we found and pulled out of an old Ford. My brother hooted at the find, almost sliced his head open, and bitched about being short within seconds of each other. He asks me every five minutes if I’m okay; he pretends that I’m complaining if I mention my arm whenever we’re around someone else or better yet, that I'm not hurt at all, but as soon as it’s just him and I, he doesn’t try to hide that he’s worried I’ll hurt myself, or get tired, or trip. His concern warms me in the chilly air as he looks up and begs for rain; it’s 50% off anything we buy if it rains, he explains. We look up expectantly, both of us more willing to be soaked in a car with no heater than pay full price for our finds.
I find a gear in the bed of a truck. It’s perfect, with “Made in the USA” stamped boldly on the back. I grab it, feeling like a thief. The unexpected beauty of the day is washing away the fear that I woke up to.
I dreamt of work, which made me anxious, and then it became me sitting in a hospital with Cesar next to me, holding my hand, and all the truths of us rushed to me, and I asked him to leave. If you don’t love me the way I will love you if you stay, my dreamself says, you need to leave and never come back. He left, because my subconscious knows what my heart doesn’t want to recognize; as much as we laugh and smile and are sweet to each other, my heart is open and his is not, at least not to me. And while building walls to try and match his feel as futile as building sandcastles in high tide, I need to. Because my dream and the subsequent tears that followed tell me only one thing; I will fall in love with someone who will never love me back if I’m not careful, and that’s life.
It was a good day. And it reminded me that I need to focus on the people who do love me, like my brother and my friends and my family, and to disregard the people who don’t. Why focus on a minority when I have such an overwhelming majority? One versus one-hundred?
I love you, and am thankful for you loving me. And for reminding me that I deserve nothing but people who do the same.
The simplicity of that. It was a good day. And I realized the next morning while I was eating pancakes across from Melanie and recounting yet another random series of events that the simple statement is the tip tap tempo of my life. It was a good day. Every day is a good day, and the days that aren’t are just sad hiccups between the last amazing 24 hours and the next one around the corner.
Yesterday I went to a junkyard to look for a carburetor for the Falcon with my brother. As we wandered the crunchy gravel and he bemoaned the fifty-year-old Jeep flatbed lying harvested next to crappy Ford escorts, I marveled at him. At myself. At the sad and desiccated beauty surrounding us; why do I think rusted metal is so pretty? And the haphazard tilt of the cars, their emblems strewn about on the ground, their insides pulled out and lying forgotten around their edges. Some of them caved in from accidents, some of them burned. There were people in them when that happened, I realize. I hope they got out alive. I wonder if they cried over the loss of the car the way my mom always has whenever one died; she would form an attachment to them as if they were pets, with emotions and temperaments and hidden agendas. There is oil everywhere, and my hands are covered in the slick grittiness from the grease and crud covering the carb we found and pulled out of an old Ford. My brother hooted at the find, almost sliced his head open, and bitched about being short within seconds of each other. He asks me every five minutes if I’m okay; he pretends that I’m complaining if I mention my arm whenever we’re around someone else or better yet, that I'm not hurt at all, but as soon as it’s just him and I, he doesn’t try to hide that he’s worried I’ll hurt myself, or get tired, or trip. His concern warms me in the chilly air as he looks up and begs for rain; it’s 50% off anything we buy if it rains, he explains. We look up expectantly, both of us more willing to be soaked in a car with no heater than pay full price for our finds.
I find a gear in the bed of a truck. It’s perfect, with “Made in the USA” stamped boldly on the back. I grab it, feeling like a thief. The unexpected beauty of the day is washing away the fear that I woke up to.
I dreamt of work, which made me anxious, and then it became me sitting in a hospital with Cesar next to me, holding my hand, and all the truths of us rushed to me, and I asked him to leave. If you don’t love me the way I will love you if you stay, my dreamself says, you need to leave and never come back. He left, because my subconscious knows what my heart doesn’t want to recognize; as much as we laugh and smile and are sweet to each other, my heart is open and his is not, at least not to me. And while building walls to try and match his feel as futile as building sandcastles in high tide, I need to. Because my dream and the subsequent tears that followed tell me only one thing; I will fall in love with someone who will never love me back if I’m not careful, and that’s life.
It was a good day. And it reminded me that I need to focus on the people who do love me, like my brother and my friends and my family, and to disregard the people who don’t. Why focus on a minority when I have such an overwhelming majority? One versus one-hundred?
I love you, and am thankful for you loving me. And for reminding me that I deserve nothing but people who do the same.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Be yourself, and be thankful.
It's Thanksgiving. I'm sure that blogs about being thankful are going to be springing up everywhere on the interwebs, but I have to say, (and NO, please don't interpret this as me being pretentious or whatnot): the feelings of gratitude I have today are not different from what I feel on every aware day.
By aware day, I mean the times that I can pull my head out of the daily craze and haze and pay attention to what I have and be utterly gratuitous for it. The days it's just me and divinity and the love I have for it all. Which are more occuring more frequently, I'm happy to say. I don't know what the difference is...age, settling into my own skin? Whatever the cause, being thankful is a frequent thing for me now.
My cousin Tam got engaged last night to a really good guy. I've liked him for her since he came to meet the whole family like a champ, and last night he proposed to her. They're this wonderful couple; artistic, supportive of each other, plugged in to God, morality, and ethics. As I've grown older and so have the members of my family, I've noticed that I have an intense pride about who we all are. We're nothing phenomenal in terms of degrees or accomplishments or wages, but those don't define the greatness of people anyway, do they? We're such good people. The aspects of us as unit that marred my earlier memories (the pettiness, resentment, et cetera) has faded now, and we're wonderful. I love seeing them, and talking to them, and hearing about their lives.
All of my families are such blessings. I look at my life and more often than not, marvel. I was listening to that "Eat, Pray, Love" trailer and when Julia Roberts says "I want to go somewhere I can marvel", it made me think about how lucky I am that I can do that any time I focus on what I have and not on what isn't going my way.
Another thing I read today that made me happy was from my friend's blog. Friend? Hm. Ex-lover, really. We never talked much before or after our interlude, but I was a notable threshold before he left on this epic life journey, and we've been keeping in contact since. Anyway, he's lost a lot of weight since he left, and he was so full of self-loathing when I knew him that this new shedding is completely redefining how he sees himself. I naturally look at myself when I read his deep, introspective thoughts about how he's changing and I wonder: why don't I think those things? Or even along those lines? And then it hit me.
I never hated myself. Never really loathed me. I got surgery to help with my pain and my health, not because I hated being big. Now that I've lost weight, I can't imagine going back to the size I was and I monitor it closely, but I don't think so much on weight-loss like him and other friends I know because I wasn't disgusted with myself beforehand. That's nice to know. Another inherent gift to be thankful for.
Those are enough early morning ramblings for one day. I hope you have a great holiday with your family, reader.
Love,
Erin
By aware day, I mean the times that I can pull my head out of the daily craze and haze and pay attention to what I have and be utterly gratuitous for it. The days it's just me and divinity and the love I have for it all. Which are more occuring more frequently, I'm happy to say. I don't know what the difference is...age, settling into my own skin? Whatever the cause, being thankful is a frequent thing for me now.
My cousin Tam got engaged last night to a really good guy. I've liked him for her since he came to meet the whole family like a champ, and last night he proposed to her. They're this wonderful couple; artistic, supportive of each other, plugged in to God, morality, and ethics. As I've grown older and so have the members of my family, I've noticed that I have an intense pride about who we all are. We're nothing phenomenal in terms of degrees or accomplishments or wages, but those don't define the greatness of people anyway, do they? We're such good people. The aspects of us as unit that marred my earlier memories (the pettiness, resentment, et cetera) has faded now, and we're wonderful. I love seeing them, and talking to them, and hearing about their lives.
All of my families are such blessings. I look at my life and more often than not, marvel. I was listening to that "Eat, Pray, Love" trailer and when Julia Roberts says "I want to go somewhere I can marvel", it made me think about how lucky I am that I can do that any time I focus on what I have and not on what isn't going my way.
Another thing I read today that made me happy was from my friend's blog. Friend? Hm. Ex-lover, really. We never talked much before or after our interlude, but I was a notable threshold before he left on this epic life journey, and we've been keeping in contact since. Anyway, he's lost a lot of weight since he left, and he was so full of self-loathing when I knew him that this new shedding is completely redefining how he sees himself. I naturally look at myself when I read his deep, introspective thoughts about how he's changing and I wonder: why don't I think those things? Or even along those lines? And then it hit me.
I never hated myself. Never really loathed me. I got surgery to help with my pain and my health, not because I hated being big. Now that I've lost weight, I can't imagine going back to the size I was and I monitor it closely, but I don't think so much on weight-loss like him and other friends I know because I wasn't disgusted with myself beforehand. That's nice to know. Another inherent gift to be thankful for.
Those are enough early morning ramblings for one day. I hope you have a great holiday with your family, reader.
Love,
Erin
Monday, November 22, 2010
mirror, mirror.
I'm housesitting for my aunt and she has this massive mirror that faces the hallway.
As the dogs were eating their dinner I stood and stared into my own eyes for the first time in a long while. I looked at the hallway that saw my worst years. The worn bronze doorknob that was gripped in anger and frustration by hands covered in tears. The bathroom I hated my teenaged self in. I looked at my eyes again. At my newly formed face. The scars on my skin. My chestnut eyes, and long eyelashes, and wild hair.
And I was content. With my history, how I've developed as a person, who I used to be and who I am now and who I'm on the path to being.
My boss asked me about what my thoughts on heaven and hell were today. I told him that frankly, the Universe and I have a personal relationship that I don't feel the need or urge to discuss with him or anyone. When I look at myself, I see my link to God in my eyes as clear as my pupils. I wear my soul on my sleeve.
And I am content.
As the dogs were eating their dinner I stood and stared into my own eyes for the first time in a long while. I looked at the hallway that saw my worst years. The worn bronze doorknob that was gripped in anger and frustration by hands covered in tears. The bathroom I hated my teenaged self in. I looked at my eyes again. At my newly formed face. The scars on my skin. My chestnut eyes, and long eyelashes, and wild hair.
And I was content. With my history, how I've developed as a person, who I used to be and who I am now and who I'm on the path to being.
My boss asked me about what my thoughts on heaven and hell were today. I told him that frankly, the Universe and I have a personal relationship that I don't feel the need or urge to discuss with him or anyone. When I look at myself, I see my link to God in my eyes as clear as my pupils. I wear my soul on my sleeve.
And I am content.
Friday, November 19, 2010
No boundaries.
I didn't realize that my post last night was so positive and optimistic, but it was, which means so much to me; being inadvertently encouraging rather than this deliberate "LIFE IS GREAT!" yadda yadda is freakin' sweet.
I'm having another one of those days where it was kinda ugh and became whoa. My physical therapy this morning was excruciating. I had a new physical therapist and he did these exercises to "loosen" my arm, and accidentally pushed it (and me) beyond my pain limit. Crying ensued, and it takes a lot for me to cry from pain. He is adding his voice to my other physical therapist in my file: they both firmly believe I have a torn rotator cuff and that my ortho needs to order an MRI. That's Tuesday's mission. Consequent of this visit, I was in an extreme amount of pain all day; it was probably worse than when I originally injured it. And so I was frustrated and bitter because I want Tuesday to be here and I want to carve candles and be able to drill a bottlecap if I need to and help my brother sand my Falcon and reupholster my seats and help make my door panels and I can't do ANY OF THAT without my left arm. Grr.
I was texting Cesar, like I do most days when things slow a little at work, and he was saying how I should come hang with him for lunch, but I told him I couldn't drive. It was an "oh, that sucks" response, which peeved me, and then, to my surprise, he showed up. With perfect timing. To hug me and tell me I looked pretty and ask about physical therapy and the doctor and what I'd do. Then he bought me a chai, haha. Win.
After work I headed over and picked up Viktor and we went back to my Italians' house to eat dinner with the fam. My brother is amazing. He's working so hard on my car for no other reason than it's mine, and he loves me, and wants me to have something awesome that we can both have bragging rights over. I just love him so much sometimes it feels like I must glow with it, and I would do absolutely anything for him. We had a random adventure looking for a wire for the carb with Estefan joining us for our non-debaucherous wandering, and we saw my Ecuadorian Joe which always makes me happy, and Vik took care of me like he always does. How can I be so lucky? So blessed?
I'm surrounded by beautiful and amazing and wonderful. You are the company you keep.
When I'm so full of love like this, I feel like there are no boundaries between me and God, no boundaries between me and everything and everyone and I could weep for the joy of it.
Have a great weekend <3
I'm having another one of those days where it was kinda ugh and became whoa. My physical therapy this morning was excruciating. I had a new physical therapist and he did these exercises to "loosen" my arm, and accidentally pushed it (and me) beyond my pain limit. Crying ensued, and it takes a lot for me to cry from pain. He is adding his voice to my other physical therapist in my file: they both firmly believe I have a torn rotator cuff and that my ortho needs to order an MRI. That's Tuesday's mission. Consequent of this visit, I was in an extreme amount of pain all day; it was probably worse than when I originally injured it. And so I was frustrated and bitter because I want Tuesday to be here and I want to carve candles and be able to drill a bottlecap if I need to and help my brother sand my Falcon and reupholster my seats and help make my door panels and I can't do ANY OF THAT without my left arm. Grr.
I was texting Cesar, like I do most days when things slow a little at work, and he was saying how I should come hang with him for lunch, but I told him I couldn't drive. It was an "oh, that sucks" response, which peeved me, and then, to my surprise, he showed up. With perfect timing. To hug me and tell me I looked pretty and ask about physical therapy and the doctor and what I'd do. Then he bought me a chai, haha. Win.
After work I headed over and picked up Viktor and we went back to my Italians' house to eat dinner with the fam. My brother is amazing. He's working so hard on my car for no other reason than it's mine, and he loves me, and wants me to have something awesome that we can both have bragging rights over. I just love him so much sometimes it feels like I must glow with it, and I would do absolutely anything for him. We had a random adventure looking for a wire for the carb with Estefan joining us for our non-debaucherous wandering, and we saw my Ecuadorian Joe which always makes me happy, and Vik took care of me like he always does. How can I be so lucky? So blessed?
I'm surrounded by beautiful and amazing and wonderful. You are the company you keep.
When I'm so full of love like this, I feel like there are no boundaries between me and God, no boundaries between me and everything and everyone and I could weep for the joy of it.
Have a great weekend <3
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Can't get over the good.
So, I've been hesitating on writing because my life has been craptastic. Within a day, life and plan and things in general deteriorated, and of course it just snowballed. Car exploded, missed my friend's going away party, hurt my arm, got rear ended in traffic en route to ER, et cetera et cetera. Things since have, predictably, been stressful, but it hasn't been that bad.
Oh yeah, I'm single again. Josh, good guy that he is, only lasted two weeks. Annnnd another one bites the dust.
So, yeah. Single, facing financial crap shoot, in a butt-ton of pain, and yet, I still don't feel like everything is as bad as it seems. Maybe it's the darvacet. But that's besides the point. While mildly depressed, I was definitely not in a full on bummer. Just a mild case of the fuuuuucks.
Let me tell you what's been making me so happy.
1.) I've had a lot of customers that have been super sweet lately. Always a perk. And them remembering my name and silly facts about me as much as I remember those same silly nothings about them makes me feel like more of a human and less of a droid. Perk.
2.) I have amazing friends. It's hard to be depressed when I know that if I needed anything, I could reach out to them. Granted, I haven't done much of that lately, but it's not because I don't love you. It's because just the thought of you sustains me.
3.) My heart beats faster every day for ever-shifting reasons. I get a special hug, or kiss the soft jaw underside of someone I adore, or remember a nice gesture my brother made, or whatever. Adam will tell me he misses his Erin and where the hell am I? My dad will tell me he loves me four times before I leave the room. My boss will put a blooming gardenia on my desk because he's awesome, or because I love them, or because he knows the story of my parents...it doesn't matter which.
There is so much beauty in this life. The bad, even when it coalesces into one big shit ball that explodes on the windshield of your big life road trip and makes you smell, really doesn't effect anything it all. You just wipe it away and continue the drive.
Love you,
Erin
Oh yeah, I'm single again. Josh, good guy that he is, only lasted two weeks. Annnnd another one bites the dust.
So, yeah. Single, facing financial crap shoot, in a butt-ton of pain, and yet, I still don't feel like everything is as bad as it seems. Maybe it's the darvacet. But that's besides the point. While mildly depressed, I was definitely not in a full on bummer. Just a mild case of the fuuuuucks.
Let me tell you what's been making me so happy.
1.) I've had a lot of customers that have been super sweet lately. Always a perk. And them remembering my name and silly facts about me as much as I remember those same silly nothings about them makes me feel like more of a human and less of a droid. Perk.
2.) I have amazing friends. It's hard to be depressed when I know that if I needed anything, I could reach out to them. Granted, I haven't done much of that lately, but it's not because I don't love you. It's because just the thought of you sustains me.
3.) My heart beats faster every day for ever-shifting reasons. I get a special hug, or kiss the soft jaw underside of someone I adore, or remember a nice gesture my brother made, or whatever. Adam will tell me he misses his Erin and where the hell am I? My dad will tell me he loves me four times before I leave the room. My boss will put a blooming gardenia on my desk because he's awesome, or because I love them, or because he knows the story of my parents...it doesn't matter which.
There is so much beauty in this life. The bad, even when it coalesces into one big shit ball that explodes on the windshield of your big life road trip and makes you smell, really doesn't effect anything it all. You just wipe it away and continue the drive.
Love you,
Erin
Saturday, October 16, 2010
I keep secret in myself an Egypt that doesn't exist.
Is that good or bad? I don't know. -Rumi.
Life shifts in big, whopping waves. I wanted to write last weekend about how wonderful my trip up north was, but I haven't had a chance to, so I'll write about it now.
I left Friday afternoon to head to my people. A few hours after I left, my Melski called me in a panic because someone had hit her in a head-on collision. Cue the worry. She was in shock, didn't want to call her parents, and had no idea what to do, so I walked her through the process step by step and tried to help her as much as I could being so far away from her. Right after she called, I noticed money had been swiped from my wallet at work, and having so many things go wrong so soon into my trip made me seriously consider turning around, cutting my losses and taking care of Melanie. But something inside me told me to continue northward, so I did.
During the drive, I started texting Josh. We talked the entire way up, and already, I could sense something deep moving inside of me. I thought he was cute, of course (we work for the same company and he'd helped out at our office, etc), and I respected how he'd moved up at his job, but I didn't think of us in terms of a couple. He did, and over the weekend set himself on convincing me on the sly.
I got to San Jose and was able to sit and talk to Kassie for hours about life and music and faire and it was wonderful. She always imbues me with this golden warmth, like I'm connected to the homesource. The next morning, I went to faire in Gilroy and was able to see friends I've known since I was 16 and hug them and love them and suck in their wisdom and advice. That night I drove up to Santa Cruz to be with my Milla, another golden woman who reminds me what it's like to be passionate and full and open. She's always been able to GET this part of me that is so hard for others to comprehend or accept. We went to Saturn, the bestest vegetarian diner that we always hit up downtown, and walked around awhile, being girls and gushing over the love she's found with her partner and how confused I was over Frank and Cesar and now Josh.
So many decisions about MY love life had already been made (de facto) by others, and it was frustrating. Cesar is a great guy, but absolutely does not want a relationship with me or anyone else, and I'm not in the mindset for friends with benefits. I want something stable. And then I met Frank, who I've known for awhile as the most amazing guy and kapow, we had fantastic chemistry and all I could think was "this could SO work, and it would be vivid." But for very valid reasons on both ends, we couldn't work now.
Enter Josh. He's been interested in me for awhile and I found out, ironically, the night I had my first date with Cesar. My life was too complicated to try and do anything then, and frankly, I had high hopes for Mr. C. I found out two weeks ago that Josh is taking a position in Mammoth, and I was super jealous because, well, who the hell doesn't love Mammoth?! So I got his number and texted him, partially to get details, partially to see if he actually felt the way my friend mentioned he did, partially to see if we had a spark.
I talked to Milla about it on Saturday night, and she gave me, as always, blissfully well-rounded advice. She wants me to be with someone stable, someone happy, who can reciprocate my natural state... the bright, beautiful, raucous state that I am with her, not my angsty, stressed, face-punching self that I am when I've overworked. And frankly, I had to work so hard with Cesar and Frank. Getting them to be open was like pulling teeth, and each had their own reasons for being that way. But Josh was so open, so immediately honest about he felt and what he wanted, and it was like my hot and frustrated spirit was soothed.
I spent Sunday at Faire with my Milla, and saying it was glorious is a pitiful adjective to describe it. Seeing all of my people up there helped water me, and I drove home feeling refreshed.
On Monday, I hung out with Josh and his friends, and on Wednesday he met my family and asked me to be his girlfriend afterwards. I said yes.
I'm happy. Naturally, I'm nervous that I'll get too happy and too comfortable and that the strain of being lonely and so far apart will take our newness and shred it in the wind. But that's when I'm too much in my head. I'm going to trust that we'll both try to make it work, and that's all we can do.
So that's that. I'll leave you with another Rumi poem.
Dissolver of Sugar
Dissolver of sugar, dissolve me,
if this is the time.
Do it gently with a touch of a hand, or a look.
Every morning I wait at dawn. That's when
it's happened before. Or do it suddenly
like an execution. How else
can I get ready for death?
You breathe without a body like a spark.
You grieve, and I begin to feel lighter.
You keep me away with your arm,
but the keeping away is pulling me in.
<3
Life shifts in big, whopping waves. I wanted to write last weekend about how wonderful my trip up north was, but I haven't had a chance to, so I'll write about it now.
I left Friday afternoon to head to my people. A few hours after I left, my Melski called me in a panic because someone had hit her in a head-on collision. Cue the worry. She was in shock, didn't want to call her parents, and had no idea what to do, so I walked her through the process step by step and tried to help her as much as I could being so far away from her. Right after she called, I noticed money had been swiped from my wallet at work, and having so many things go wrong so soon into my trip made me seriously consider turning around, cutting my losses and taking care of Melanie. But something inside me told me to continue northward, so I did.
During the drive, I started texting Josh. We talked the entire way up, and already, I could sense something deep moving inside of me. I thought he was cute, of course (we work for the same company and he'd helped out at our office, etc), and I respected how he'd moved up at his job, but I didn't think of us in terms of a couple. He did, and over the weekend set himself on convincing me on the sly.
I got to San Jose and was able to sit and talk to Kassie for hours about life and music and faire and it was wonderful. She always imbues me with this golden warmth, like I'm connected to the homesource. The next morning, I went to faire in Gilroy and was able to see friends I've known since I was 16 and hug them and love them and suck in their wisdom and advice. That night I drove up to Santa Cruz to be with my Milla, another golden woman who reminds me what it's like to be passionate and full and open. She's always been able to GET this part of me that is so hard for others to comprehend or accept. We went to Saturn, the bestest vegetarian diner that we always hit up downtown, and walked around awhile, being girls and gushing over the love she's found with her partner and how confused I was over Frank and Cesar and now Josh.
So many decisions about MY love life had already been made (de facto) by others, and it was frustrating. Cesar is a great guy, but absolutely does not want a relationship with me or anyone else, and I'm not in the mindset for friends with benefits. I want something stable. And then I met Frank, who I've known for awhile as the most amazing guy and kapow, we had fantastic chemistry and all I could think was "this could SO work, and it would be vivid." But for very valid reasons on both ends, we couldn't work now.
Enter Josh. He's been interested in me for awhile and I found out, ironically, the night I had my first date with Cesar. My life was too complicated to try and do anything then, and frankly, I had high hopes for Mr. C. I found out two weeks ago that Josh is taking a position in Mammoth, and I was super jealous because, well, who the hell doesn't love Mammoth?! So I got his number and texted him, partially to get details, partially to see if he actually felt the way my friend mentioned he did, partially to see if we had a spark.
I talked to Milla about it on Saturday night, and she gave me, as always, blissfully well-rounded advice. She wants me to be with someone stable, someone happy, who can reciprocate my natural state... the bright, beautiful, raucous state that I am with her, not my angsty, stressed, face-punching self that I am when I've overworked. And frankly, I had to work so hard with Cesar and Frank. Getting them to be open was like pulling teeth, and each had their own reasons for being that way. But Josh was so open, so immediately honest about he felt and what he wanted, and it was like my hot and frustrated spirit was soothed.
I spent Sunday at Faire with my Milla, and saying it was glorious is a pitiful adjective to describe it. Seeing all of my people up there helped water me, and I drove home feeling refreshed.
On Monday, I hung out with Josh and his friends, and on Wednesday he met my family and asked me to be his girlfriend afterwards. I said yes.
I'm happy. Naturally, I'm nervous that I'll get too happy and too comfortable and that the strain of being lonely and so far apart will take our newness and shred it in the wind. But that's when I'm too much in my head. I'm going to trust that we'll both try to make it work, and that's all we can do.
So that's that. I'll leave you with another Rumi poem.
Dissolver of Sugar
Dissolver of sugar, dissolve me,
if this is the time.
Do it gently with a touch of a hand, or a look.
Every morning I wait at dawn. That's when
it's happened before. Or do it suddenly
like an execution. How else
can I get ready for death?
You breathe without a body like a spark.
You grieve, and I begin to feel lighter.
You keep me away with your arm,
but the keeping away is pulling me in.
<3
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Early Morning Epiphany.
I woke up feeling renewed after spewing out all of my drama on here last night, and I feel like the universe spoke to me in between dreams and helped me understand one thing.
As much as I hate not knowing what's really going the hell on in my love life, I know that I am truly only seeking one thing. Not a guarantee, but rather that I find someone who has the qualities and strength of character that I could fall in love with every day, all over again.
It was reaffirmed by Star's infinite wisdom; ideally, that person wouldn't fuck around with me and play a constant game, but rather be as open and honest with me as I am with the whole damn world. I deserve honesty.
Enough of this. Off to get my calf tattoo!
As much as I hate not knowing what's really going the hell on in my love life, I know that I am truly only seeking one thing. Not a guarantee, but rather that I find someone who has the qualities and strength of character that I could fall in love with every day, all over again.
It was reaffirmed by Star's infinite wisdom; ideally, that person wouldn't fuck around with me and play a constant game, but rather be as open and honest with me as I am with the whole damn world. I deserve honesty.
Enough of this. Off to get my calf tattoo!
I feel like my brain is exploding.
Trying to apply logical thought to something as illogical as emotion is humanity's biggest downfall as a whole, I think.
For serious.
Because I am one of those people right now. I am a full-on, flat-out, 100% fucking retard when it come to reading the book of love. And I HATE it. I loathe not understanding shit, not getting why people do what they do, why certain men will kiss me and others want to be in relationships with me and some just want to fuck me and WHY.
I feel like part of this links back to my weight loss, and how I predicted this would happen. I knew when I considered doing surgery that when I was thinner more guys would be interested in me and I'd question their intentions more than the normal woman. I always sypathized with my beautiful cousins because men would pursue them and they'd never know said man's intentions. Now I'm in a similar boat.
I hate my love life. If it were a boat still floating, I would capsize it. We were dead before the ship even sank.
I have friends and coworkers that have feelings for me, and I reciprocate them in two of those cases. One, you, dear blog-reader, already know of, and since a few weeks ago, another gentleman has been on the case.
But he's moving to Frisco, and am I cut out for long distance? And really, no one has talked about us being serious, anyway. Like I said, this not-knowing. This uncertainty, this second guessing.
And Cesar is...Cesar. I feel like he'll be Mr. Perpetually Unattainable.
Can I just quit my love life and start over? With something simple and uncomplicated?
No. Of course not. This is my life, remember?
Sorry for the angst. NO, fuck it, I'm sick of being sorry. I'm allowed to be bitter about my own stupidity on my own damn blog.
For serious.
Because I am one of those people right now. I am a full-on, flat-out, 100% fucking retard when it come to reading the book of love. And I HATE it. I loathe not understanding shit, not getting why people do what they do, why certain men will kiss me and others want to be in relationships with me and some just want to fuck me and WHY.
I feel like part of this links back to my weight loss, and how I predicted this would happen. I knew when I considered doing surgery that when I was thinner more guys would be interested in me and I'd question their intentions more than the normal woman. I always sypathized with my beautiful cousins because men would pursue them and they'd never know said man's intentions. Now I'm in a similar boat.
I hate my love life. If it were a boat still floating, I would capsize it. We were dead before the ship even sank.
I have friends and coworkers that have feelings for me, and I reciprocate them in two of those cases. One, you, dear blog-reader, already know of, and since a few weeks ago, another gentleman has been on the case.
But he's moving to Frisco, and am I cut out for long distance? And really, no one has talked about us being serious, anyway. Like I said, this not-knowing. This uncertainty, this second guessing.
And Cesar is...Cesar. I feel like he'll be Mr. Perpetually Unattainable.
Can I just quit my love life and start over? With something simple and uncomplicated?
No. Of course not. This is my life, remember?
Sorry for the angst. NO, fuck it, I'm sick of being sorry. I'm allowed to be bitter about my own stupidity on my own damn blog.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
First Date?
Cesar and I went to the Conga Room last Thursday. I'd wanted to go to this Nat King Cole tribute but Melanie was doing VMA rehearsals next door, so it was unlikely that she'd be able to go with me. On a whim, I text Cesar on Wednesday night and ask him...interested in going? I get an immediate yes. Immediate accelerated heartbeat.
So we went. Mel ended up meeting us outside, which was awesome, so we all went in together. Later, she'd get us deluxe VIP, because...that's how Melanie works. As we were walking up, I reached out and held his hand. I only held it for thirty steps, but those were content moments. I feel so comfortable with Cesar; every thought comes flowing out, everything I feel for him is so plain in my smile and blush.
Inside, I got a drink pretty immediately. Felt golden and tipsy and loose, shaking my hips to the spanish music and grinning happily at my comrades. I had Cesar's hand on my back in an almost constant contact, the back of my neck, my leg when we'd later sit.
It might sound silly, but I'm really judgmental on how a man touches me. It conveys a lot about themselves; their security, confidence, maturity. Chris touched me to evoke a reaction, like a child. He didn't do it to "arouse" me; he'd touch me inappropriately in public to get a rise out of me, to get his hand slapped away or glared down and giggle in response. Cesar, who is, by the way, an amazing gentleman, didn't send out any odd signals; it was just a man touching a woman, to let her know she was cared about. Not possessive, or even particularly romantic. Just contact.
Whatever I felt unsure about before is gone now. If nothing manifests, that's fine. But I know without a doubt that someone I care about cares about me back, and that's enough.
(In case it isn't clear, there was no end-of-evening kiss. If there's no kiss, is it even considered a date? ...Titles aren't that important, anyway.)
So we went. Mel ended up meeting us outside, which was awesome, so we all went in together. Later, she'd get us deluxe VIP, because...that's how Melanie works. As we were walking up, I reached out and held his hand. I only held it for thirty steps, but those were content moments. I feel so comfortable with Cesar; every thought comes flowing out, everything I feel for him is so plain in my smile and blush.
Inside, I got a drink pretty immediately. Felt golden and tipsy and loose, shaking my hips to the spanish music and grinning happily at my comrades. I had Cesar's hand on my back in an almost constant contact, the back of my neck, my leg when we'd later sit.
It might sound silly, but I'm really judgmental on how a man touches me. It conveys a lot about themselves; their security, confidence, maturity. Chris touched me to evoke a reaction, like a child. He didn't do it to "arouse" me; he'd touch me inappropriately in public to get a rise out of me, to get his hand slapped away or glared down and giggle in response. Cesar, who is, by the way, an amazing gentleman, didn't send out any odd signals; it was just a man touching a woman, to let her know she was cared about. Not possessive, or even particularly romantic. Just contact.
Whatever I felt unsure about before is gone now. If nothing manifests, that's fine. But I know without a doubt that someone I care about cares about me back, and that's enough.
(In case it isn't clear, there was no end-of-evening kiss. If there's no kiss, is it even considered a date? ...Titles aren't that important, anyway.)
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
DAMNIT.
I hate liking boys, sometimes, especially when it explodes from like to full-blown crush status.
Because, really, I seriously like Cesar. As in, wish we were seriously dating. I have to catch myself from tilting up my face to kiss him when he hugs me goodbye because I'm so emotionally disposed to him.
But there are other guys that I'm interested in and, newsflash, actually interested in me! So here's the conundrum; even though it feels somehow wrong, and almost like cheating, should I go ahead and date these other guys because they're clearly into me, unlike Cesar? Hope for the best with them?
Because I wonder a few things. I make it sooo obvious, but what if Cesar is actually clueless to how I really feel about him and then later realizes it and I've already invested time and effort into a relationship with someone else? Would I ditch them for him? That's not fair to them. Should I even ethically try to get into a relationship with someone else when I'm so focused on him?
FML.
Please give me your opinions. I need advice.
Also, to allay the big question: Why don't I just TELL him? Because we work together, and I see him almost every day. If he flat out rejected me, I'd be burned but okay in a few days, but it's not fair to put him on the spot that way, and he could just pass off my flirting (like he has been) and continue to joke about it because he's not actually into me, and he's rather just keep it as an amicable working environment.
Fuck it, I'm just going to forget about him and move on.
But...BUT...damnit.
Because, really, I seriously like Cesar. As in, wish we were seriously dating. I have to catch myself from tilting up my face to kiss him when he hugs me goodbye because I'm so emotionally disposed to him.
But there are other guys that I'm interested in and, newsflash, actually interested in me! So here's the conundrum; even though it feels somehow wrong, and almost like cheating, should I go ahead and date these other guys because they're clearly into me, unlike Cesar? Hope for the best with them?
Because I wonder a few things. I make it sooo obvious, but what if Cesar is actually clueless to how I really feel about him and then later realizes it and I've already invested time and effort into a relationship with someone else? Would I ditch them for him? That's not fair to them. Should I even ethically try to get into a relationship with someone else when I'm so focused on him?
FML.
Please give me your opinions. I need advice.
Also, to allay the big question: Why don't I just TELL him? Because we work together, and I see him almost every day. If he flat out rejected me, I'd be burned but okay in a few days, but it's not fair to put him on the spot that way, and he could just pass off my flirting (like he has been) and continue to joke about it because he's not actually into me, and he's rather just keep it as an amicable working environment.
Fuck it, I'm just going to forget about him and move on.
But...BUT...damnit.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Bob Marley.
I had a revelation today, thanks to the wisdom of Bob Marley.
One of his famous quotes was the cause. Everybody's gonna hurt you, you just need to find the ones worth suffering for. The same applies to jobs. Every job sucks...let's be honest. Even when it's a career, no one is thrilled to go work a 9 hour job, come home, clean house, do other chores, pay bills, et cetera. You just tolerate said job better when it's worth suffering for. Unfortunately, the job I'm at ISN'T, and I'd be happy with a career-length lower pay if I could really stand behind what I was doing. Renting cars isn't that for me, thank god. Finances were really important to me when I took this job, and that was my bottom line, but it's started to shift as my moods have begun to change so dramatically. I don't want to be Jekyll/Hyde. I won't be, and especially not because of something I can so proactively change, like employment.
My company is amazing. My bosses are amazing. My co-workers are amazing. I'm just not built for sales.
I came home and swam today, and Corina was here. I've known her since she was in utero, and I love her so much. She's absolutely golden, and wants to watch Matilda with me right now.
I'm going to go do that.
One of his famous quotes was the cause. Everybody's gonna hurt you, you just need to find the ones worth suffering for. The same applies to jobs. Every job sucks...let's be honest. Even when it's a career, no one is thrilled to go work a 9 hour job, come home, clean house, do other chores, pay bills, et cetera. You just tolerate said job better when it's worth suffering for. Unfortunately, the job I'm at ISN'T, and I'd be happy with a career-length lower pay if I could really stand behind what I was doing. Renting cars isn't that for me, thank god. Finances were really important to me when I took this job, and that was my bottom line, but it's started to shift as my moods have begun to change so dramatically. I don't want to be Jekyll/Hyde. I won't be, and especially not because of something I can so proactively change, like employment.
My company is amazing. My bosses are amazing. My co-workers are amazing. I'm just not built for sales.
I came home and swam today, and Corina was here. I've known her since she was in utero, and I love her so much. She's absolutely golden, and wants to watch Matilda with me right now.
I'm going to go do that.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Alive.
I feel like I'm on the verge of something huge. At this job, getting a new job, life... who knows. But I have this quickening of my pulse, this deep adrenaline rush like I'm about to cliff dive into a vast opportunistic sea.
It's so nice to be hopeful again. And I know that a big part of that is having my family being so stable right now, in all of its classic instability. I met my sisters, and they're beautiful and smart and wonderful and knowing them at all has filled a very distinct gap I had that made me doubt the wisdom of the divine. I always understood that I was lucky enough to make new families, partially because mine isn't as functional as some, but I wondered what I had done in a past life to deserve never knowing my super cool siblings. Now I feel that things were just biding their time until it wouldn't just be known, but embraced, and above anything else, I feel embraced by them.
I was floating on a raft in the pool today, looking at the blue blue sky and my magnolia tree and Lucy sprawled on the pavement and I felt at peace. I'm going to a venue opening tonight with my friend Vic, I'll look adoringly at my crushy-poo, and I'll feel as alive as I do right now. It'll carry me into the next week, where I'll continue to thrive at work and in life.
I'm applying to Edison and sending my resume to a lady who works for an environmental design firm in the OC. Doors might be opening for me in places other than Enterprise, but I'm doing so good at where I am that if I need to stay, I can still do well here.
I've lost 170 pounds. I feel pretty amazing. I'm going to aggressively try to get rid of my medical debt and get plastic surgery as soon as my weight has stabilized, so I can look as amazing as I feel.
So happy. So thankful. So alive.
It's so nice to be hopeful again. And I know that a big part of that is having my family being so stable right now, in all of its classic instability. I met my sisters, and they're beautiful and smart and wonderful and knowing them at all has filled a very distinct gap I had that made me doubt the wisdom of the divine. I always understood that I was lucky enough to make new families, partially because mine isn't as functional as some, but I wondered what I had done in a past life to deserve never knowing my super cool siblings. Now I feel that things were just biding their time until it wouldn't just be known, but embraced, and above anything else, I feel embraced by them.
I was floating on a raft in the pool today, looking at the blue blue sky and my magnolia tree and Lucy sprawled on the pavement and I felt at peace. I'm going to a venue opening tonight with my friend Vic, I'll look adoringly at my crushy-poo, and I'll feel as alive as I do right now. It'll carry me into the next week, where I'll continue to thrive at work and in life.
I'm applying to Edison and sending my resume to a lady who works for an environmental design firm in the OC. Doors might be opening for me in places other than Enterprise, but I'm doing so good at where I am that if I need to stay, I can still do well here.
I've lost 170 pounds. I feel pretty amazing. I'm going to aggressively try to get rid of my medical debt and get plastic surgery as soon as my weight has stabilized, so I can look as amazing as I feel.
So happy. So thankful. So alive.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
What I want in life.
Having crushes on people has made me think more sincerely on what I want in a relationship. And it's so basic.
Down the street, a band is playing. I love you. Come, let us roam the night together. Singing.
It's one of Langston Hughes' famous lines, and wowza, does it hit me anew every time. The other basic standards that I wish a guy could have, like a job and shiz, drop into the gutter when I entertain that half of my heart.
If I felt that way, I'd let almost all the practical reasons go by the wayside. Give me a poet, or an artist, or someone starving and with a passion. I don't care. Just give me someone worthy of an intense love, and I'll give it wholeheartedly to them.
Maybe it's been too long since I've felt any passion...any reckless abandonment for another person. I need to feel a good crazy for someone, and wouldn't it be amazing if I could stand the sight of them in the morning?
Down the street, a band is playing. I love you. Come, let us roam the night together. Singing.
It's one of Langston Hughes' famous lines, and wowza, does it hit me anew every time. The other basic standards that I wish a guy could have, like a job and shiz, drop into the gutter when I entertain that half of my heart.
If I felt that way, I'd let almost all the practical reasons go by the wayside. Give me a poet, or an artist, or someone starving and with a passion. I don't care. Just give me someone worthy of an intense love, and I'll give it wholeheartedly to them.
Maybe it's been too long since I've felt any passion...any reckless abandonment for another person. I need to feel a good crazy for someone, and wouldn't it be amazing if I could stand the sight of them in the morning?
Sunday, July 25, 2010
full moon world tilt.
The moon is sitting fat and full and yellow outside my car window, and I can't help but think about how my dad has always called this moon MY moon. "Erin's moon was out last night, did you see?" he would say if he visited the next day. My mom's moon is the thin white sliver crescent, so much like a fingernail.
It's ironic, you see. There are certain truths of my life that have defined me in the way that histories tend to define parts of your foundation. My mother is my father's mistress. He has a wife and family that do not know I exist. I am a source of great guilt in his life, but he loves me anyway. These are the truths of my identity, and as of a few days ago, they've been altered.
My mother's existence became known of. My sisters called my cell today, I assume getting the number from phone records, hoping to contact my mother but reaching me instead.
They asked me things they needed to know and truth flowed from my mouth like water from a wellspring. I told them a lot about my parents, about how it hasn't been a novella-style sexy affair of an older man and younger woman. How it's been about love. How in my heart of hearts, my father sets an almost terrifying example of the man I hope to marry; he is the epitome of Corinthians. He is patient. He is kind. He does not envy, does not boast, is not proud, nor rude or self-seeking. He is not easily angered or keeps records of wrongs (God knows). He does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth, which is why keeping this one has made, I firmly believe, a third of his life one endlessly bittersweet agony for him.
He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
My sisters broke my heart with the sweetness of their understanding. Only one spoke, and she said that she knows I'm her sister because even though she just learned of my existence (from me...10 minutes earlier), that she knew from my voice and my words that I was lovely and she knew she could love me as a sister. I'm so proud that I can call women of that caliber my own. I've known their stories almost as long as I've known mine, and to witness their grace and strength during such a personal upheaval is awe inspiring.
My story is so altered. How ironic that it happens a week after I started the first chapter of my book, which is all about my parents?
I hope I can have more of them in my life, even though just this small contact is more than I thought I'd ever have.
What a life. And I mean that in a good way.
It's ironic, you see. There are certain truths of my life that have defined me in the way that histories tend to define parts of your foundation. My mother is my father's mistress. He has a wife and family that do not know I exist. I am a source of great guilt in his life, but he loves me anyway. These are the truths of my identity, and as of a few days ago, they've been altered.
My mother's existence became known of. My sisters called my cell today, I assume getting the number from phone records, hoping to contact my mother but reaching me instead.
They asked me things they needed to know and truth flowed from my mouth like water from a wellspring. I told them a lot about my parents, about how it hasn't been a novella-style sexy affair of an older man and younger woman. How it's been about love. How in my heart of hearts, my father sets an almost terrifying example of the man I hope to marry; he is the epitome of Corinthians. He is patient. He is kind. He does not envy, does not boast, is not proud, nor rude or self-seeking. He is not easily angered or keeps records of wrongs (God knows). He does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth, which is why keeping this one has made, I firmly believe, a third of his life one endlessly bittersweet agony for him.
He always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
My sisters broke my heart with the sweetness of their understanding. Only one spoke, and she said that she knows I'm her sister because even though she just learned of my existence (from me...10 minutes earlier), that she knew from my voice and my words that I was lovely and she knew she could love me as a sister. I'm so proud that I can call women of that caliber my own. I've known their stories almost as long as I've known mine, and to witness their grace and strength during such a personal upheaval is awe inspiring.
My story is so altered. How ironic that it happens a week after I started the first chapter of my book, which is all about my parents?
I hope I can have more of them in my life, even though just this small contact is more than I thought I'd ever have.
What a life. And I mean that in a good way.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
I'm going to write a book!
So, I've been writing my entire life; as long as I can remember I've been putting words to paper to help me deal with emotions, present my self as stable, et cetera. Dear friends have told me I should write a book based on short stories or poetry they've read, but the thought of amassing enough of that kind of content into a book worth reading or creating a fictional novel with enough of a plot has been too daunting. Now, I realize what I was missing.
I didn't think I had enough life to warrant a memoir, but I realize that yes, I do. It won't be about me, though, per se. It will be about the people have shaped me throughout my life; the various families, individuals, dearest friends, who have shaped me to be who I am. Who have been the community raising this child.
I can see it so clearly, and I'm so excited. I just need to carve out the time to write it, and I feel like it will flow from my fingertips like the Nile during flooding. A Nile of love and devotion and gratitude.
I feel like my heart is giving one slow, lazy bump after months of being stilled. It's going to happen.
I love you. Give me your thoughts! <3
I didn't think I had enough life to warrant a memoir, but I realize that yes, I do. It won't be about me, though, per se. It will be about the people have shaped me throughout my life; the various families, individuals, dearest friends, who have shaped me to be who I am. Who have been the community raising this child.
I can see it so clearly, and I'm so excited. I just need to carve out the time to write it, and I feel like it will flow from my fingertips like the Nile during flooding. A Nile of love and devotion and gratitude.
I feel like my heart is giving one slow, lazy bump after months of being stilled. It's going to happen.
I love you. Give me your thoughts! <3
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Life as I know it.
So, friends, it's been a long time since I've posted anything. Maybe because I was overwhelmed with life flooding all over me, maybe because I was busy with finals and graduating, maybe because I didn't want to whine all over my blog more than I already had done. For whatever, I'm back.
I graduated college. Two Bachelor degrees, which is always nice. If I think positively, they were only 10K apiece. I started working for a great company a week after the school chapter ended, and while I won't say where it is, let me assure you that it is decent pay, very secure (unless I reeeeallly mess up), tons of hours, and benefits. That's all I wanted from work, really, so I'm a happy camper.
My personal life has been one long, stymied mess though. Thankfully I didn't get too wrapped up in my ex-partners crap, so when we ended, I wasn't demolished. But still, it hasn't been the most amazing of experiences, and while I'm happy being single, I'm also open to the possibility of someone better. I'm not going to let this recent bad experience mar my hopes about partnership.
I feel like this recent melee has helped me walk gracefully around a turning point that has been impassable for my adult life. For once, I never questioned my value as a person; I was only angry that he would choose someone we all know is a step down from me as his partner. But it's a remarkable thing, to be free of doubt. Of that particular brand of insecurity. And I know that, if I'm so inclined, I can find someone who will suit me better. I no longer have the I'm-in-a-relationship blinders on, and I can keep my eyes wide open.
I'll leave you with the lyrics to a great song and the recommendation that you listen to it!
Evolve, by Kevin Quinn.
If you wanna revolution the only solution
evolve gotta evolve
If you wanna revolution the only solution
evolve gotta evolve
if you gettin' off track and you wanna get back
it may take a lot of work won't break your back
If you wanna revolution the only solution
evolve gotta evolve
No matter what they do they can't break your stride
Revolution is a thing that starts inside
throw your hands up cuz you're frisked with pride
hold your head high no need to hide
EVO LVE come on get inside,
come on rock with me.
if you want a revolution the only solution, evolve (gotta evolve)
GOT TO EVOLVE! if you want a revolution, you got to evolve.
OHH BABY! if you wanna a revolution
the only solution, evolve
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYgFjBDoHNA
I love you. Have a good weekend. I'm off to do laundry while it's still early and energy costs are low!
I graduated college. Two Bachelor degrees, which is always nice. If I think positively, they were only 10K apiece. I started working for a great company a week after the school chapter ended, and while I won't say where it is, let me assure you that it is decent pay, very secure (unless I reeeeallly mess up), tons of hours, and benefits. That's all I wanted from work, really, so I'm a happy camper.
My personal life has been one long, stymied mess though. Thankfully I didn't get too wrapped up in my ex-partners crap, so when we ended, I wasn't demolished. But still, it hasn't been the most amazing of experiences, and while I'm happy being single, I'm also open to the possibility of someone better. I'm not going to let this recent bad experience mar my hopes about partnership.
I feel like this recent melee has helped me walk gracefully around a turning point that has been impassable for my adult life. For once, I never questioned my value as a person; I was only angry that he would choose someone we all know is a step down from me as his partner. But it's a remarkable thing, to be free of doubt. Of that particular brand of insecurity. And I know that, if I'm so inclined, I can find someone who will suit me better. I no longer have the I'm-in-a-relationship blinders on, and I can keep my eyes wide open.
I'll leave you with the lyrics to a great song and the recommendation that you listen to it!
Evolve, by Kevin Quinn.
If you wanna revolution the only solution
evolve gotta evolve
If you wanna revolution the only solution
evolve gotta evolve
if you gettin' off track and you wanna get back
it may take a lot of work won't break your back
If you wanna revolution the only solution
evolve gotta evolve
No matter what they do they can't break your stride
Revolution is a thing that starts inside
throw your hands up cuz you're frisked with pride
hold your head high no need to hide
EVO LVE come on get inside,
come on rock with me.
if you want a revolution the only solution, evolve (gotta evolve)
GOT TO EVOLVE! if you want a revolution, you got to evolve.
OHH BABY! if you wanna a revolution
the only solution, evolve
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYgFjBDoHNA
I love you. Have a good weekend. I'm off to do laundry while it's still early and energy costs are low!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
On being dead.
I realized today in my uber lame, sub-100 psych class required for graduation that I am in fact emotionally dead.
No heartbeat in my heart of hearts. No caring. I feel like nothing at all really matters.
I'm not excited about anything. The last six months have been so hard that it's like I had to shut off the part of me that felt overwhelmed and scared and unsure to keep pulling myself up by my bootstraps, and in the crossfire everything else.
I don't care that I'm graduating. All I'm looking at is, IF I get a decent job, going to work 50 hours a week somewhere that I'll probably feel inadequate skill-wise at and dedicating a massive portion of my income to debt. For the next 3-5 years. Which means I could feasibly be a 28 yr old living at home. And if I move out? Woo. A house. Being part of the douchy yuppie masses that literally wake up, go to my hated job in the car I have a huge payment on, come home, go to the gym for an hour, walk my dog, make my lonely dinner for one, watch some stupid prime time show, and go to sleep.
I hate my life and I haven't even started it.
Logically, I know I should somehow magically consider some unbeknown alternative. I'm not a smelly hippy. I do, in fact, like having a stable home. And the reality is, I'm financially bound to my family. Yeah, it's technically willing, but in a deontological way, I can't morally economically abandon her. So I'm trapped.
I feel like I'm going to die having existed in one long, pointless life. And I feel totally powerless. And I hardly care at all.
No heartbeat in my heart of hearts. No caring. I feel like nothing at all really matters.
I'm not excited about anything. The last six months have been so hard that it's like I had to shut off the part of me that felt overwhelmed and scared and unsure to keep pulling myself up by my bootstraps, and in the crossfire everything else.
I don't care that I'm graduating. All I'm looking at is, IF I get a decent job, going to work 50 hours a week somewhere that I'll probably feel inadequate skill-wise at and dedicating a massive portion of my income to debt. For the next 3-5 years. Which means I could feasibly be a 28 yr old living at home. And if I move out? Woo. A house. Being part of the douchy yuppie masses that literally wake up, go to my hated job in the car I have a huge payment on, come home, go to the gym for an hour, walk my dog, make my lonely dinner for one, watch some stupid prime time show, and go to sleep.
I hate my life and I haven't even started it.
Logically, I know I should somehow magically consider some unbeknown alternative. I'm not a smelly hippy. I do, in fact, like having a stable home. And the reality is, I'm financially bound to my family. Yeah, it's technically willing, but in a deontological way, I can't morally economically abandon her. So I'm trapped.
I feel like I'm going to die having existed in one long, pointless life. And I feel totally powerless. And I hardly care at all.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I love...
Mornings like this one. I'm drinking a big cup of hot chai, my window is open to the cold fresh rainy morning, my momma made me a nom breakfast burrito, and after studying for a few hours for my chem test, I feel much more secure about the midterm in an hour.
I'm so satisfied today. I'm going to be in the company of a man I adore tonight, and it's something to look forward to; something that makes the rest of the day much more tolerable, which is why I think relationships are necessary for most people to begin with.
Today's going to be a good day. I feel it. I hope it's the same for you, my darling.
I'm so satisfied today. I'm going to be in the company of a man I adore tonight, and it's something to look forward to; something that makes the rest of the day much more tolerable, which is why I think relationships are necessary for most people to begin with.
Today's going to be a good day. I feel it. I hope it's the same for you, my darling.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Realizations.
Hm. I'm graduating soon. I'm not really terrified by the concept anymore, but I've come to a few realizations.
1. I definitely pursued a course of study that I loved, not one that was practical for my work habits. I don't know how I really feel about that yet: am I proud that I had the cajones/confidence to go balls to the wall for what I love and knowing that I'd land on my feet? Really, I don't think I can take credit at all. This is how my cookie is crumbling and I'm just pretty damn phenomenal at making the best of things, if I do say so myself.
2. Because of aforementioned not-getting-a-degree-in-what-I'm-actually-good-at, I'm probably going to get a job doing what I AM good at, and therefore being the butt of my own jokes. Oh yes. I've made fun of the communication Bachelor holders working at Enterprise Rent-a-Car before, and now I'm going to be one of them...just, well, not a communication degree holder. Well, I hope I'm going to be one of them, if my Thursday interview goes well. Frankly, I love talking to people. I love working with 'em, making them happy, making their lives a tad easier, having them walk away with a sweet taste in their mouth. Maybe it was years of teasing manifesting as liking to be a people pleaser in some way. Maybe it's killing bitterness with kindness. Whatever it is, I'm good at doing it and it's deeply fulfilling, so yeah, whatever I do, it needs to be customer interactive. Geography is rarely that...it's mostly working in a cubicle or field, staring at a computer screen for research and analysis and writing and cataloging and I don't want to do it 40 hours a week for the rest of my life. At night? Hell yes. On weekends? You bet. Still going to get a Masters and Ph.D. Hopefully still going to consult. Just on my terms.
Really, I climb the ladder too fast for my own good. And at small environmental/consultant/government situations, you can't do that. And where's the fun? The drive? The competitive edge? Well, it doesn't exist folks. So that won't be my avenue.
I've been poor my entire life, and as soon as I'm not THAT anymore, a huge hurdle of my life's successes will be accomplished. That's all I need to reach in the near future.
Everything else is okay. I've just been waking up a lot lately. KAPOW! Epiphany. BOOM! Wake. the. fuck. up.
1. I definitely pursued a course of study that I loved, not one that was practical for my work habits. I don't know how I really feel about that yet: am I proud that I had the cajones/confidence to go balls to the wall for what I love and knowing that I'd land on my feet? Really, I don't think I can take credit at all. This is how my cookie is crumbling and I'm just pretty damn phenomenal at making the best of things, if I do say so myself.
2. Because of aforementioned not-getting-a-degree-in-what-I'm-actually-good-at, I'm probably going to get a job doing what I AM good at, and therefore being the butt of my own jokes. Oh yes. I've made fun of the communication Bachelor holders working at Enterprise Rent-a-Car before, and now I'm going to be one of them...just, well, not a communication degree holder. Well, I hope I'm going to be one of them, if my Thursday interview goes well. Frankly, I love talking to people. I love working with 'em, making them happy, making their lives a tad easier, having them walk away with a sweet taste in their mouth. Maybe it was years of teasing manifesting as liking to be a people pleaser in some way. Maybe it's killing bitterness with kindness. Whatever it is, I'm good at doing it and it's deeply fulfilling, so yeah, whatever I do, it needs to be customer interactive. Geography is rarely that...it's mostly working in a cubicle or field, staring at a computer screen for research and analysis and writing and cataloging and I don't want to do it 40 hours a week for the rest of my life. At night? Hell yes. On weekends? You bet. Still going to get a Masters and Ph.D. Hopefully still going to consult. Just on my terms.
Really, I climb the ladder too fast for my own good. And at small environmental/consultant/government situations, you can't do that. And where's the fun? The drive? The competitive edge? Well, it doesn't exist folks. So that won't be my avenue.
I've been poor my entire life, and as soon as I'm not THAT anymore, a huge hurdle of my life's successes will be accomplished. That's all I need to reach in the near future.
Everything else is okay. I've just been waking up a lot lately. KAPOW! Epiphany. BOOM! Wake. the. fuck. up.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Wolf.
I've been feeling in a funk lately, and I think I realize why. I'm finely balanced between two things: the generous, the old, the bright soul that is firmly connected to the other, and my wolf. It came to me today, and within ten minutes I heard the words in my head, wrote them down, and feel more at peace then I have in awhile.
The Wolf.
The Wolf.
In a world of sheep and weak things
I walk around feeling a powerful sense of being.
Sahara between my toes
Moss in my snout
I’ll enjoy your blood as I swallow your entrails down.
I’m a wolf in a world of sheep
I eat them when I’m hungry
Pass unbeknownst in their flock when I’m sated.
I’ve always been a predator, and the wise ones have always seen it:
Respected it, feared it, encouraged it to thrive.
The knowledge that the biggest and scariest are the ones
That will inherit the earth, because the meek were meals.
I laughed at the carpenter’s son when he said to turn the other cheek;
I’d bite that hand off and hold your heart in my hand before
My head had time to snap back from the blow.
I lead them to slaughter when their time has come
And they follow timidly and oh so docile
Offering themselves to me without realizing their folly.
Offer yourself to me and I’ll take advantage.
I won’t let a meal walk away. Mercy and grace are not inside of me.
I’ll survive, on your meat or that of your neighbor;
It makes no difference to me.
Be wise dear heart, and see me for what I am;
You might live longer.
What a great feeling, this wholeness.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Birth of a plan.
Hope for my future has been sucked out of me like a siphon. As if there's a hope vampire traipsing around disguised as my mother and it's just being pulled from me like the earwax from Shrek's ear, sans resulting candle. So, I've decided something: instead of partaking in passive suicide and losing all will to live a fulfilling and passionate life, I'm going to leave what's pulling me down and go.
go go go.
I'm listening, universe, and I got the message loud and clear.
After I graduate, I'm going to maybe hang around for a week or two, swimming and enjoying my friends, then pack my car with a few duffels and hit the road. Alone. Probably around 9K miles. And I won't have a schedule or a goal, really, except to experience life in the now and moment and be happy.
I know people I'll want to see, though. Of course Jess in Phoenix, my sisters in Texas, Kevin and maybe a distant uncle in Florida, up the east coast to my cousins in Virginia and New York, up to Maine, down to Chicago, Detroit, Ohio, and I'll probably sit in Montana wilderness for a week or so. Then over to Seattle, up to Canada, down back to Oregon and SF and then maybe home. Then again, maybe not. If I find somewhere awesome enough and can find a job, I'll stay.
I can't be hopeless anymore. It's fundamentally against my nature, and if I stay where I am, in no uncertain terms, I will die.
So yeah, that's the plan. The alternative. And now, I can't stop hoping for it. It's everything I'm looking forward to, and I think it poses the possibility of being the large cantilever I re-angle my life on.
go go go.
I'm listening, universe, and I got the message loud and clear.
After I graduate, I'm going to maybe hang around for a week or two, swimming and enjoying my friends, then pack my car with a few duffels and hit the road. Alone. Probably around 9K miles. And I won't have a schedule or a goal, really, except to experience life in the now and moment and be happy.
I know people I'll want to see, though. Of course Jess in Phoenix, my sisters in Texas, Kevin and maybe a distant uncle in Florida, up the east coast to my cousins in Virginia and New York, up to Maine, down to Chicago, Detroit, Ohio, and I'll probably sit in Montana wilderness for a week or so. Then over to Seattle, up to Canada, down back to Oregon and SF and then maybe home. Then again, maybe not. If I find somewhere awesome enough and can find a job, I'll stay.
I can't be hopeless anymore. It's fundamentally against my nature, and if I stay where I am, in no uncertain terms, I will die.
So yeah, that's the plan. The alternative. And now, I can't stop hoping for it. It's everything I'm looking forward to, and I think it poses the possibility of being the large cantilever I re-angle my life on.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Mourning and aloneness.
I'm sitting here thinking about my life. It's been a really rough ten weeks, so sliding towards self-pity is really easy. But I need to remember that when people are pulled out of my life, by their own actions or not, it's to help me value the beauty of aloneness.
This makes me think of Aloneness, one of the major cards in the Osho Zen Tarot deck, that a friend gave me my sophomore year of high school and that I often still think on. The card reads:
"When you are alone you are not alone, you are simply lonely - and there is a tremendous difference between loneliness and aloneness. When you are lonely you are thinking of the other, you are missing the other. Loneliness is a negative state. You are feeling that it would have been better if the other was there - your friend, your wife, your mother, your beloved, your husband. It would have been good if the other was there, but the other is not.
Loneliness is absence of the other. Aloneness is the presence of oneself. Aloneness is very positive. It is a presence, overflowing presence. You are so full of presence that you can fill the whole universe with your presence and there is no need for anybody."
I've ended a long friendship tonight. It's been over for awhile, but I needed to keep it to myself until the timing was appropriate. It was hard to keep such an important issue quiet and not communicate it with said friend, but it was for the sake of our work together and, I know, it served as a means to control my resentment. I was scared to speak openly...I would be nasty, vile, harsh, and I never like to leave a relationship that way. By waiting, I taught myself control, and now everything relevant is known and nothing dishonorable was said.
I feel like my friends, my close ties, the loves that keep me tethered to reality (in a good way) are dropping off like flies. Our lives are diverging from each other, but I'm confident in our ability to span that breadth whenever our lives let us.
All of this just serves to make me wonder what divinity has in store for me. As sure as I am in my own heartbeat I know that these trials are guiding me into a profound next step, and that trimming off some friendships that were more neutral or harmful than good is serving as essentially trimming the fat before I undergo a real test. My life has a plan. Even if I feel like it's getting lost under mudslides, there is a path I am on and that I'm destined to see through.
Trimming the fat or not, I'm mourning the loss. We've changed as people, enough so that a friendship doesn't even look feasible when you look at who we are now and now who we were when we began, but still. There was a deep love there that has been disappointed, and I'll always feel where it once was. He was like family, which made the negligent betrayal that much more painful, but a tree will sprout where I'm sore now and will be the structure for future happiness.
I must remember that God as I know it is with me. It's easier to be aware of it when I'm full of love for other people...how can I not be constantly aware of the All when I feel so acutely a part of it?...but even when I can't focus on how much I feel for others, I still need to remember. Life is beautiful. And it's okay if I don't have someone that I can turn to and talk about how shining it is. I can just turn inwards and give my thanks to the universe and be done.
This makes me think of Aloneness, one of the major cards in the Osho Zen Tarot deck, that a friend gave me my sophomore year of high school and that I often still think on. The card reads:
"When you are alone you are not alone, you are simply lonely - and there is a tremendous difference between loneliness and aloneness. When you are lonely you are thinking of the other, you are missing the other. Loneliness is a negative state. You are feeling that it would have been better if the other was there - your friend, your wife, your mother, your beloved, your husband. It would have been good if the other was there, but the other is not.
Loneliness is absence of the other. Aloneness is the presence of oneself. Aloneness is very positive. It is a presence, overflowing presence. You are so full of presence that you can fill the whole universe with your presence and there is no need for anybody."
I've ended a long friendship tonight. It's been over for awhile, but I needed to keep it to myself until the timing was appropriate. It was hard to keep such an important issue quiet and not communicate it with said friend, but it was for the sake of our work together and, I know, it served as a means to control my resentment. I was scared to speak openly...I would be nasty, vile, harsh, and I never like to leave a relationship that way. By waiting, I taught myself control, and now everything relevant is known and nothing dishonorable was said.
I feel like my friends, my close ties, the loves that keep me tethered to reality (in a good way) are dropping off like flies. Our lives are diverging from each other, but I'm confident in our ability to span that breadth whenever our lives let us.
All of this just serves to make me wonder what divinity has in store for me. As sure as I am in my own heartbeat I know that these trials are guiding me into a profound next step, and that trimming off some friendships that were more neutral or harmful than good is serving as essentially trimming the fat before I undergo a real test. My life has a plan. Even if I feel like it's getting lost under mudslides, there is a path I am on and that I'm destined to see through.
Trimming the fat or not, I'm mourning the loss. We've changed as people, enough so that a friendship doesn't even look feasible when you look at who we are now and now who we were when we began, but still. There was a deep love there that has been disappointed, and I'll always feel where it once was. He was like family, which made the negligent betrayal that much more painful, but a tree will sprout where I'm sore now and will be the structure for future happiness.
I must remember that God as I know it is with me. It's easier to be aware of it when I'm full of love for other people...how can I not be constantly aware of the All when I feel so acutely a part of it?...but even when I can't focus on how much I feel for others, I still need to remember. Life is beautiful. And it's okay if I don't have someone that I can turn to and talk about how shining it is. I can just turn inwards and give my thanks to the universe and be done.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Shaking.
Things are bad, but I feel relatively good about them. Or maybe I'm just numb from too much traumatic overload. Whatever it is, I feel like my fingers are raw from clawing myself up from this pit.
My mother is a liar. She never pays a penny towards her living expenses; I pay all of it. She somehow spends all the money she earns, all of the non-rent money my father gives her, and now, she dips hundreds of dollars worth in to the actual rent.
And I have to come up with the shortfalls.
I'm going ballistic. I'm going to leave her to lay in the bed she's been making. There's only so much I can take, especially when it's deliberate sabotage of my financial stability when I have little as it is.
I'm in a huge time of transition, and it feels like it's deeper and longer than I thought it would be.
Staring into the unknown, I'm shaking in my boots.
My mother is a liar. She never pays a penny towards her living expenses; I pay all of it. She somehow spends all the money she earns, all of the non-rent money my father gives her, and now, she dips hundreds of dollars worth in to the actual rent.
And I have to come up with the shortfalls.
I'm going ballistic. I'm going to leave her to lay in the bed she's been making. There's only so much I can take, especially when it's deliberate sabotage of my financial stability when I have little as it is.
I'm in a huge time of transition, and it feels like it's deeper and longer than I thought it would be.
Staring into the unknown, I'm shaking in my boots.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I just want to be okay.
I've lost my footing. It's been too long since I've seen Polaris and known my way.
Where am I going? What am I doing? There's nothing after June, until the possibility of Florida.
A year. Of nothing. I've never had a year of nothing, and it's terrifying.
I don't want to go into the menial, underpaid workforce and scrape by at (if I'm lucky) $10 an hour. I'd probably work two jobs, moonlighting at a smut shop or gas station.
I'd always be tired, and perpetually unhappy. 7 years of school...years and years of sacrifice, lack of sleep, 70 hour weeks and endless budgets, to end up with 20K in school loan debt and no immediate way to start alleviating it.
Just thinking about it makes me shut down. Become apathetic. Part of what always keeps me going is knowing that there's something more to do, someone I need to be there for, but the concept of having so much on my shoulders and not really doing something productive to relieve it is mind numbing.
I need to find something and go for it, aggressively. Even if it is only for 12 months.
I don't want to be apathetic. I want to have hope for a bright future, even if it's unrealistic.
Guh, if I didn't have a fuckin' flake of a roommate, I could be getting a tattoo soon, and I know that would make me feel better. Getting something permanent grounds me, spiritually, and when I'm adrift like I am now, I'm in need of an anchor.
An anchor that allows my heart to fly. Funny how that's usually how it works, isn't it?
Where am I going? What am I doing? There's nothing after June, until the possibility of Florida.
A year. Of nothing. I've never had a year of nothing, and it's terrifying.
I don't want to go into the menial, underpaid workforce and scrape by at (if I'm lucky) $10 an hour. I'd probably work two jobs, moonlighting at a smut shop or gas station.
I'd always be tired, and perpetually unhappy. 7 years of school...years and years of sacrifice, lack of sleep, 70 hour weeks and endless budgets, to end up with 20K in school loan debt and no immediate way to start alleviating it.
Just thinking about it makes me shut down. Become apathetic. Part of what always keeps me going is knowing that there's something more to do, someone I need to be there for, but the concept of having so much on my shoulders and not really doing something productive to relieve it is mind numbing.
I need to find something and go for it, aggressively. Even if it is only for 12 months.
I don't want to be apathetic. I want to have hope for a bright future, even if it's unrealistic.
Guh, if I didn't have a fuckin' flake of a roommate, I could be getting a tattoo soon, and I know that would make me feel better. Getting something permanent grounds me, spiritually, and when I'm adrift like I am now, I'm in need of an anchor.
An anchor that allows my heart to fly. Funny how that's usually how it works, isn't it?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
love letter.
Dear you,
Today, I've been seeing an outpouring of love that I know is there everyday, but is vocalized vehemently during February 14.
You are my friend. You read this, and your motivations are your own, but I know that the consideration in which you respond to me speaks volumes of your nature.
You handle me with grace, dignity, and a level of wisdom that I am blessed with being able to witness. You don't scorn my petty emotions, make me feel more ridiculous than I know I'm being, or belittle my opinions. If anything, you indulge them, understanding that I will come to the same logical conclusion as you at the end of my rant. And yet, you give me nuggets of wisdom from your life experiences, empathize with my weaknesses, allow me to be.
This is more than I ever hoped to have from anyone.
So this is my outpouring of love to you. Thank you for all that you do. I see it, and I know it for the gift it is, even if I don't always say it.
I see you, and I love you.
Today, I've been seeing an outpouring of love that I know is there everyday, but is vocalized vehemently during February 14.
You are my friend. You read this, and your motivations are your own, but I know that the consideration in which you respond to me speaks volumes of your nature.
You handle me with grace, dignity, and a level of wisdom that I am blessed with being able to witness. You don't scorn my petty emotions, make me feel more ridiculous than I know I'm being, or belittle my opinions. If anything, you indulge them, understanding that I will come to the same logical conclusion as you at the end of my rant. And yet, you give me nuggets of wisdom from your life experiences, empathize with my weaknesses, allow me to be.
This is more than I ever hoped to have from anyone.
So this is my outpouring of love to you. Thank you for all that you do. I see it, and I know it for the gift it is, even if I don't always say it.
I see you, and I love you.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
thoughts on couples.
Ugh.
Maybe it's just that the epitome of commercial condescension to single people is coming up in a few days (Valentines Day, for those of you who don't get it), or that literally almost of my friends are in relationships or married, or that biologically right now I'm inclined to NOT be single and want to start the whole life nesting-settling down bullshit...whatever. Whatever the reason, I'm anghsty.
And slightly angry. So I warn you: not going to be a happy post.
I hate that I'm now left out of functions with my friends because they're doing things with their other friends who are exclusively couples and because I'm single, I'm not invited. I hate that if I go out on a date, or someone approaches me and starts a conversation, they inevitably ask at some point: "So why is a cool/rad/smart [insert cheesy adjectives here] chick like you single?" How the fuck should I know? You won't call, so answer your own goddamn question at the end of this conversation.
I even hate that I'm using the word hate, but I do. I HATE it. Not loathe. Not dislike. Hate.
Valentine's Day is shit. I gotta say, if I ever get into a relationship, I really hope we do nothing special on February 14th. If you feel the need to give me something pretty, buy it on sale and give it to me after I worked a hard day and make you a superb dinner or something. Hell. Fuck the concept of cupid. Shoot me in the head. GAH.
And let me also say, it gets really old being one of the last single people in the mid-20 scene. Half the time (and yes, people actually say this, it's not just my perception) women will actually say, "Wow, at this rate, you're not going to get married or anything until after you're 30."
Yes, I'm aware. And who gives a shit?! What's so wrong with that? I'll (probably) have a Ph.D. by then! A Master's, at the very least, and probably no debt! Well, that's the goal.
So WHAT if I'm not busting out babies before I'm 30? So WHAT if I'm not married?
Fuck fuck fuck.
And feeling generally belittled by society is only exacerbated by the fact that everyone is happy/loving/you and me!/I lovvvve her (him) more than anything! crap. Don't get me wrong.. mazeltov to you for finding your significant other and being happy, but really, does it take over your life and suck away your personality?
The two biggest exception to this are Milla and Kathleen (Coley, I never knew you before, and you and Loren are badass together). You guys have let your relationships enrich you without having it change and morph our friendships in the negative. I know your guys, and love 'em, but I don't have to see them everytime I see you. Amazing.
I know, I'm a huge whiner. But I don't care right now. Today has been stressful, and this is how it's manifesting itself, so I'm venting.
And I'm well aware that part of why I feel this way is a latent envy. Not because of Valentines Day.. that's imaginary.. but because I'm semi-lonely and feel more than capable of being in a healthy and balanced relationship. And it's definitely exacerbated when I see immature, shitty people (usually chicks, it's true) with good guys. WTF? Please don't reproduce. But I can't find someone decent? Who has a goal? Isn't a loser? REALLY?!
I'm ready, universe, all venting aside. Be decent.
I'm going to go back to watching Gene Kelly. I feel like all my negative juju for the day has been thoroughly expelled. Yay.
Maybe it's just that the epitome of commercial condescension to single people is coming up in a few days (Valentines Day, for those of you who don't get it), or that literally almost of my friends are in relationships or married, or that biologically right now I'm inclined to NOT be single and want to start the whole life nesting-settling down bullshit...whatever. Whatever the reason, I'm anghsty.
And slightly angry. So I warn you: not going to be a happy post.
I hate that I'm now left out of functions with my friends because they're doing things with their other friends who are exclusively couples and because I'm single, I'm not invited. I hate that if I go out on a date, or someone approaches me and starts a conversation, they inevitably ask at some point: "So why is a cool/rad/smart [insert cheesy adjectives here] chick like you single?" How the fuck should I know? You won't call, so answer your own goddamn question at the end of this conversation.
I even hate that I'm using the word hate, but I do. I HATE it. Not loathe. Not dislike. Hate.
Valentine's Day is shit. I gotta say, if I ever get into a relationship, I really hope we do nothing special on February 14th. If you feel the need to give me something pretty, buy it on sale and give it to me after I worked a hard day and make you a superb dinner or something. Hell. Fuck the concept of cupid. Shoot me in the head. GAH.
And let me also say, it gets really old being one of the last single people in the mid-20 scene. Half the time (and yes, people actually say this, it's not just my perception) women will actually say, "Wow, at this rate, you're not going to get married or anything until after you're 30."
Yes, I'm aware. And who gives a shit?! What's so wrong with that? I'll (probably) have a Ph.D. by then! A Master's, at the very least, and probably no debt! Well, that's the goal.
So WHAT if I'm not busting out babies before I'm 30? So WHAT if I'm not married?
Fuck fuck fuck.
And feeling generally belittled by society is only exacerbated by the fact that everyone is happy/loving/you and me!/I lovvvve her (him) more than anything! crap. Don't get me wrong.. mazeltov to you for finding your significant other and being happy, but really, does it take over your life and suck away your personality?
The two biggest exception to this are Milla and Kathleen (Coley, I never knew you before, and you and Loren are badass together). You guys have let your relationships enrich you without having it change and morph our friendships in the negative. I know your guys, and love 'em, but I don't have to see them everytime I see you. Amazing.
I know, I'm a huge whiner. But I don't care right now. Today has been stressful, and this is how it's manifesting itself, so I'm venting.
And I'm well aware that part of why I feel this way is a latent envy. Not because of Valentines Day.. that's imaginary.. but because I'm semi-lonely and feel more than capable of being in a healthy and balanced relationship. And it's definitely exacerbated when I see immature, shitty people (usually chicks, it's true) with good guys. WTF? Please don't reproduce. But I can't find someone decent? Who has a goal? Isn't a loser? REALLY?!
I'm ready, universe, all venting aside. Be decent.
I'm going to go back to watching Gene Kelly. I feel like all my negative juju for the day has been thoroughly expelled. Yay.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
word vomit.
People are so intense, and it's a really trippy thing. I need to remember that 90% of how a person treats you has nothing to do with me, which is completely against what society trains you to think.
Society: as early as you are around people and modifying behavior (don't do that, it's not fair; yes, share, et cetera) and not taught as a means to becoming a better or good person, necessarily, but so that the people you're interacting with like you. And that implies that how they treat you is directly correlated to your behavior. We get this our entire life, and yeah, a small percentage of how they treat you is because of how you're acting, but the rest is completely rooted in who they are. Trippy. You don't get that until you're older, and realize that the way you're treating someone has little to do with what they're espousing or their actions, rather with how your day went, how you're feeling, your stress, why did your friend's husband act disgusted by you the other night? Was it that inappropriate joke? And shit, you make those jokes a lot. Does everyone think you're a douchebag like this guy does? Do you walk around thinking you're a decent person and everyone REALLY thinks you're a douchebag because of your inappropriate joking all the time? Hm. And then bam: someone asks you a question and you snap the answer back because of all of this deep thinking of thoughts, and they're likely going to wonder about why you treated them that way, and possibly let it eat at them, snapping at someone else.
I repeat.. hm.
Now, I realize I could be completely over thinking things, and granted, I worry about how people in general treat me way less than most. I'm well aware. But lately, I'm more scared of abandonment than usual. I know it started with the hospital stay, and how thankful I was by this outpouring of unexpected support (especially from the families I'm proud to be considered part of, plus my own biological one), and upset by the few I did definitely expect that didn't come through.
I don't know if I'd be able to thrive if my families wrote me off. I'd survive, because I do, but I doubt I'd be able to thrive like I have without them.
My foster mom, Jacque, told me that she loves my pick-myself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality, and I don't know any other way. We're sharks, us humans. Swim or die. Move or die. Be or die. I can't imagine another way to be. But I feel like I'm catapulting towards death. My life is already a quarter over, and what have I done with it?
What have I done with it?
I don't want to live a wasted life that's full of putting out fires, flying through books and classes and concerts and rejoicing in their beauty for a moment and then forgetting because a fire explodes my brain and consumes my thoughts for weeks or months on end.
I don't want to forget, or do so little with my life that it's overly-complacent and I'm essentially not swimming and therefore propelling myself to a boring death to an unfulfilled life.
Hm.
What a weird random post. I just needed to spew word vomit though, I guess.
Society: as early as you are around people and modifying behavior (don't do that, it's not fair; yes, share, et cetera) and not taught as a means to becoming a better or good person, necessarily, but so that the people you're interacting with like you. And that implies that how they treat you is directly correlated to your behavior. We get this our entire life, and yeah, a small percentage of how they treat you is because of how you're acting, but the rest is completely rooted in who they are. Trippy. You don't get that until you're older, and realize that the way you're treating someone has little to do with what they're espousing or their actions, rather with how your day went, how you're feeling, your stress, why did your friend's husband act disgusted by you the other night? Was it that inappropriate joke? And shit, you make those jokes a lot. Does everyone think you're a douchebag like this guy does? Do you walk around thinking you're a decent person and everyone REALLY thinks you're a douchebag because of your inappropriate joking all the time? Hm. And then bam: someone asks you a question and you snap the answer back because of all of this deep thinking of thoughts, and they're likely going to wonder about why you treated them that way, and possibly let it eat at them, snapping at someone else.
I repeat.. hm.
Now, I realize I could be completely over thinking things, and granted, I worry about how people in general treat me way less than most. I'm well aware. But lately, I'm more scared of abandonment than usual. I know it started with the hospital stay, and how thankful I was by this outpouring of unexpected support (especially from the families I'm proud to be considered part of, plus my own biological one), and upset by the few I did definitely expect that didn't come through.
I don't know if I'd be able to thrive if my families wrote me off. I'd survive, because I do, but I doubt I'd be able to thrive like I have without them.
My foster mom, Jacque, told me that she loves my pick-myself-up-by-the-bootstraps mentality, and I don't know any other way. We're sharks, us humans. Swim or die. Move or die. Be or die. I can't imagine another way to be. But I feel like I'm catapulting towards death. My life is already a quarter over, and what have I done with it?
What have I done with it?
I don't want to live a wasted life that's full of putting out fires, flying through books and classes and concerts and rejoicing in their beauty for a moment and then forgetting because a fire explodes my brain and consumes my thoughts for weeks or months on end.
I don't want to forget, or do so little with my life that it's overly-complacent and I'm essentially not swimming and therefore propelling myself to a boring death to an unfulfilled life.
Hm.
What a weird random post. I just needed to spew word vomit though, I guess.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
I should be studying.
I have more important things to do then fill up interweb pages with my empty ramblings, but I don't care. I feel like this is more relevant.
I'm lucky to have so many families that love me. Nick's middle name is Rocco, and there is actually a SAINT Rocco (fuck me, I love Catholics) and if you don't believe me, his day is August 16. I'm tempted to name my first born son Rocco, if it didn't break my cardinal rule of naming offspring (which I probably won't even have, but who the hell cares?!). If you don't know my cardinal rule, I think a name should fit perfectly in two instances: following "my dearest" in a love letter and Supreme Court Justice blank blank. I mean, shit. We have a responsibility to our kids. Maybe a middle name. Hm.
So anyway. I'm lucky. The Italians love me. Like, Linda will sit there and, without fail, after dinner she says "I love our family" and smiles and me and Jayboy on the couch, usually with fatcat Francis tucked between us. How did I get so Norman Rockwell by association? I repeat: lucky sucker am I.
A dude went crazy on me yesterday. Implied that since I didn't run his shitty article about going abroad to South Africa a year ago.. YES, a year ago... meant that I was racist and not in support of running articles for "the people". FUCK YOU MAN. I'm more African than you! First generation immigrant, you useless asswipe. But no, I didn't say that. I was polite, although I raised my voice. REALLY? Racist? Because I have standards on the quality of writing I put in my section? Eff that shiz. Uggh.
Overall, school is way better than I figured it would be. Even though I'm slacking off at the moment.. disregard the hypocrisy. Maybe someone up there likes me, because the capstone ish I could sleep through, and my geography classes that actually matter are headed by the two most frequently seen of my professors, and the most understanding. Thank my lucky stars.
If all this positive shit makes you ill, please understand: I write these things to remember why I stay hopeful when life takes a big poop on my head, which is often. I mean, all the plans I had for the next few years of my life have been demolished because of one freak hospital stay. I'm having to make long-lasting financial decisions in the near future: whether I'll say to hell with it about the debt, and go immediately for grad school; if I'll decide to teach in hopes of the gov'ment forgiving my loans because I'll teach at low-income schools; if I should move where the cost of living to wage ratio is higher so I can kill myself over the next five years to pay everything down, et cetera. And for the first time ever, I'm really banking on my dad making it through for me, and being able to support my mom while I'm gone. Because for the next five years, I can't consider her, which is a first. And maybe that's the root of it all.
I'm not going to be able to do what I've always done because my situation is so utterly fucked, and so I feel like a failure. I'll be literally meeting every goal I've planned on meeting, and because of something completely out of my control, I'll be walking into years of insane debt and the inability to meet my personal responsibilities. No wonder this thing is so discombobulating.
But frankly, there's no other option but trying to look out for myself and take care of this situation as quickly, efficiently, and granted, selfishly as possible, so I can take of her when she really needs it. And there's an undeniable freedom in that selfishness, which is probably why I'm considering jumping the west coast ship and going somewhere as random as Florida to work my way through it.
Hm. Saying all that out loud (figuratively speaking) makes me feel a whole lot better about it. Bueno.
If you read this.. I commend you. And probably love you. Have a good night!
I'm lucky to have so many families that love me. Nick's middle name is Rocco, and there is actually a SAINT Rocco (fuck me, I love Catholics) and if you don't believe me, his day is August 16. I'm tempted to name my first born son Rocco, if it didn't break my cardinal rule of naming offspring (which I probably won't even have, but who the hell cares?!). If you don't know my cardinal rule, I think a name should fit perfectly in two instances: following "my dearest" in a love letter and Supreme Court Justice blank blank. I mean, shit. We have a responsibility to our kids. Maybe a middle name. Hm.
So anyway. I'm lucky. The Italians love me. Like, Linda will sit there and, without fail, after dinner she says "I love our family" and smiles and me and Jayboy on the couch, usually with fatcat Francis tucked between us. How did I get so Norman Rockwell by association? I repeat: lucky sucker am I.
A dude went crazy on me yesterday. Implied that since I didn't run his shitty article about going abroad to South Africa a year ago.. YES, a year ago... meant that I was racist and not in support of running articles for "the people". FUCK YOU MAN. I'm more African than you! First generation immigrant, you useless asswipe. But no, I didn't say that. I was polite, although I raised my voice. REALLY? Racist? Because I have standards on the quality of writing I put in my section? Eff that shiz. Uggh.
Overall, school is way better than I figured it would be. Even though I'm slacking off at the moment.. disregard the hypocrisy. Maybe someone up there likes me, because the capstone ish I could sleep through, and my geography classes that actually matter are headed by the two most frequently seen of my professors, and the most understanding. Thank my lucky stars.
If all this positive shit makes you ill, please understand: I write these things to remember why I stay hopeful when life takes a big poop on my head, which is often. I mean, all the plans I had for the next few years of my life have been demolished because of one freak hospital stay. I'm having to make long-lasting financial decisions in the near future: whether I'll say to hell with it about the debt, and go immediately for grad school; if I'll decide to teach in hopes of the gov'ment forgiving my loans because I'll teach at low-income schools; if I should move where the cost of living to wage ratio is higher so I can kill myself over the next five years to pay everything down, et cetera. And for the first time ever, I'm really banking on my dad making it through for me, and being able to support my mom while I'm gone. Because for the next five years, I can't consider her, which is a first. And maybe that's the root of it all.
I'm not going to be able to do what I've always done because my situation is so utterly fucked, and so I feel like a failure. I'll be literally meeting every goal I've planned on meeting, and because of something completely out of my control, I'll be walking into years of insane debt and the inability to meet my personal responsibilities. No wonder this thing is so discombobulating.
But frankly, there's no other option but trying to look out for myself and take care of this situation as quickly, efficiently, and granted, selfishly as possible, so I can take of her when she really needs it. And there's an undeniable freedom in that selfishness, which is probably why I'm considering jumping the west coast ship and going somewhere as random as Florida to work my way through it.
Hm. Saying all that out loud (figuratively speaking) makes me feel a whole lot better about it. Bueno.
If you read this.. I commend you. And probably love you. Have a good night!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Yay! Quick recovery.
Fuck Mr. Pink!
Well, I can't really say that. I have a lot of sympathy for him. And as a person, it's hard not to adore him. He's a good guy. Smart. Has the potential to be a great man.
But I gotta say, I'm not ugly.
Oh yeah. Giggity. Shouting it from the mountain tops.
I AM NOT UGLY.
And I don't think I'm bad in bed either, frankly.
Just because he did, on either option, doesn't make it true. Doesn't make it applicable to me. And I know that. I do. Being bummed for a day and thinking it through helped make me realize that.
I'm not going to shut off my heart, or close down the part in me that wants to believe people are fundamentally decent, and worth trusting. I won't. I refuse.
I'm not going to let myself become someone who's bitter and shut off. I always say it, and temporarily wonder if I'm insane when I get hurt because of it, but I'd rather love constantly and be hurt vibrantly than be just another soul taking that brightness from the world. Because that's what love is: a light. And I believe that. I know it's true. As soon as I believed in love for the God it is, I saw it everywhere, and I won't turn my back to it.
I would let you down if I did.
I hope this finds you well, my darling.
Well, I can't really say that. I have a lot of sympathy for him. And as a person, it's hard not to adore him. He's a good guy. Smart. Has the potential to be a great man.
But I gotta say, I'm not ugly.
Oh yeah. Giggity. Shouting it from the mountain tops.
I AM NOT UGLY.
And I don't think I'm bad in bed either, frankly.
Just because he did, on either option, doesn't make it true. Doesn't make it applicable to me. And I know that. I do. Being bummed for a day and thinking it through helped make me realize that.
I'm not going to shut off my heart, or close down the part in me that wants to believe people are fundamentally decent, and worth trusting. I won't. I refuse.
I'm not going to let myself become someone who's bitter and shut off. I always say it, and temporarily wonder if I'm insane when I get hurt because of it, but I'd rather love constantly and be hurt vibrantly than be just another soul taking that brightness from the world. Because that's what love is: a light. And I believe that. I know it's true. As soon as I believed in love for the God it is, I saw it everywhere, and I won't turn my back to it.
I would let you down if I did.
I hope this finds you well, my darling.
unfair, and unpretty.
So, last night, after I went to LA to see (let's call him Mr. Pink), we were going back to his house after a movie when he told me that he wasn't going to want me to stay. After what I considered a really amazing weekend, I naturally asked why. He said he didn't want to hurt me, but I insisted on knowing.
It is better to know the truth. It is better to know the truth. It is. I know it is, logically. Even when it hurts in it's pettiness, and more than it should because I look like a fool.
Mr. Pink told me that he didn't think I was attractive anymore. Calmly, I asked if he'd felt the same way Saturday and looked past it because, well, he wanted a last fling before he left. He didn't know. I asked if that was the case, he shouldn't have asked me to come out again, and he said he was hoping he was remembering it with guilt shadowing it and that the "magic" would still be there for us.
I'm so...devastated. And it's an overreaction. So what? He used me and didn't think I was pretty. He's definitely not the first and probably not the last. In his benefit, he was the first to be brutally honest with me when I requested it, and I know from experience that being the teller can be harder than being the listener.
I think part of why I'm so hurt is because he made me feel so absolutely beautiful and loved on Saturday. That's why it was so special for me. He knew that part of my personal philosophy is that, no, not every woman is a stunner, and I am part of that group. I'm mediocre, average, standard...all of the above, and that's all right. There's nothing wrong with that. He told me, over and over again, how beautiful he thought I was, how grateful he was for me. And I believed him completely. And I was completely wrong.
It's like a huge part of my heart that I trust with is dented. I feel like now, his baggage has metamorphosed into mine, and that I'll never believe someone who calls me pretty again. Because logically, I know.. I look okay. And I know that his guilt over sex and unhappiness with his own looks, et cetera, are all part of why his opinion changed about me and why he felt the need to use someone. But still.
Now more than before, the thought of being around my friends that are couples is nauseating. I don't feel like my heart can take seeing that kind of adoration when the last two months has been one long riverdance on all the good parts of my heart that I try to keep open to possibilities and have been smashed. I'm quitting, for awhile. My hope for pretty much everything has been worn down to a nub: hope for financial security, gone. Hope for a home of my own: gone. Hope for finding someone who won't use and hurt me: gone, too.
Yeah. Thanks for reading.
It is better to know the truth. It is better to know the truth. It is. I know it is, logically. Even when it hurts in it's pettiness, and more than it should because I look like a fool.
Mr. Pink told me that he didn't think I was attractive anymore. Calmly, I asked if he'd felt the same way Saturday and looked past it because, well, he wanted a last fling before he left. He didn't know. I asked if that was the case, he shouldn't have asked me to come out again, and he said he was hoping he was remembering it with guilt shadowing it and that the "magic" would still be there for us.
I'm so...devastated. And it's an overreaction. So what? He used me and didn't think I was pretty. He's definitely not the first and probably not the last. In his benefit, he was the first to be brutally honest with me when I requested it, and I know from experience that being the teller can be harder than being the listener.
I think part of why I'm so hurt is because he made me feel so absolutely beautiful and loved on Saturday. That's why it was so special for me. He knew that part of my personal philosophy is that, no, not every woman is a stunner, and I am part of that group. I'm mediocre, average, standard...all of the above, and that's all right. There's nothing wrong with that. He told me, over and over again, how beautiful he thought I was, how grateful he was for me. And I believed him completely. And I was completely wrong.
It's like a huge part of my heart that I trust with is dented. I feel like now, his baggage has metamorphosed into mine, and that I'll never believe someone who calls me pretty again. Because logically, I know.. I look okay. And I know that his guilt over sex and unhappiness with his own looks, et cetera, are all part of why his opinion changed about me and why he felt the need to use someone. But still.
Now more than before, the thought of being around my friends that are couples is nauseating. I don't feel like my heart can take seeing that kind of adoration when the last two months has been one long riverdance on all the good parts of my heart that I try to keep open to possibilities and have been smashed. I'm quitting, for awhile. My hope for pretty much everything has been worn down to a nub: hope for financial security, gone. Hope for a home of my own: gone. Hope for finding someone who won't use and hurt me: gone, too.
Yeah. Thanks for reading.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Hermithood, I hear you calling me.
Emotionally, life has been exceptionally intense since the New Year. I've been sick since then, and I'm really...sick of it. I'm normally much healthier. I just have something that I can't shake. And being in the hospital really drained me, physically and emotionally.
As much as I loved the friends that came, there were some that should have been there and weren't. In no uncertain terms, they let me down. I felt... forgotten. And not worth their time or effort.
Now, after yet another heavily emotional situation, I can't stop thinking about it. I'm becoming that girl, and I don't want to be her. Why do I always do this? I saw a shirt the other day that said "I fall in love 2 times a day", and that's completely me. And as much as it hurts, I don't want to change it. It's just that sometimes, I wear myself down by being so open, feeling so much. And I'd rather be that way than apathetic, and I'm usually reeeeally good about keeping a happy medium, but I've thrown myself off kilter.
I need to pull myself back in. I need to regroup. Hermithood, I hear you calling me, and I'm both thankful and resentful of your siren song.
Things to focus on:
-school
-graduation
-apprenticeship at the city
Things NOT to focus on because RIGHT now, I can't do ANYTHING:
-medical bills
-a man I want and cannot have
-future employment
Things to contemplate when I can handle it:
-grad school
-plans to leave the country
-any concept of financial planning
The end, for now.
As much as I loved the friends that came, there were some that should have been there and weren't. In no uncertain terms, they let me down. I felt... forgotten. And not worth their time or effort.
Now, after yet another heavily emotional situation, I can't stop thinking about it. I'm becoming that girl, and I don't want to be her. Why do I always do this? I saw a shirt the other day that said "I fall in love 2 times a day", and that's completely me. And as much as it hurts, I don't want to change it. It's just that sometimes, I wear myself down by being so open, feeling so much. And I'd rather be that way than apathetic, and I'm usually reeeeally good about keeping a happy medium, but I've thrown myself off kilter.
I need to pull myself back in. I need to regroup. Hermithood, I hear you calling me, and I'm both thankful and resentful of your siren song.
Things to focus on:
-school
-graduation
-apprenticeship at the city
Things NOT to focus on because RIGHT now, I can't do ANYTHING:
-medical bills
-a man I want and cannot have
-future employment
Things to contemplate when I can handle it:
-grad school
-plans to leave the country
-any concept of financial planning
The end, for now.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
These...are the days of our lives.
Sometimes, I feel like my life is a spanish novella. Or a bad rerun of the Three Stooges in Portugese. How does it make so little sense but still make me happy? And really, who is the high-big poombah that determines the entire concept of "sense"? Hm.
I'm just thankful that I'm happy. Grateful. For life. For the beauty that's so big it can't help but have a tinge of pain at the outer edges, it encapsulates so much. Last night I had a pretty life altering experience, which is weird, because it was fundamentally simple. Someone did a vast array of things for me . . . parts of my heart that I didn't know were underdeveloped due to a lack of stimulation were shocked alive, beating against their premature size and aching for action. This someone, I know, is going to leave and never come back to this state. Back to me. I don't think it made the experience any more poignant than it would have been otherwise, but it makes me wonder about the paths our lives take us down. The "what if's" are endless. For the first time, I wondered what it would be like to explore God and faith and love with someone tangible, and I wanted it, badly. I might always, and maybe only with him.
All I know is that it's joining my list of inexplicably beautiful things that have happened to me that I haven't deserved and can only hope to earn with my future actions, and it's at the top. So beautiful there's a salty sadness at the fringe. I hardly know you, and as sure as I am of our relative mystery to each other, I'm going to miss you every time I wish for your touch. And I'll never resent the missing, or regret the memories that are its fodder.
So, on another note, my friends came out in force when I needed them recently. I was hospitalized for nine days..details aren't important.. and a handful of sacred loves were there every day I was in. My Mattie, my dearest, sat with me for four hours through the damn national ice skating championships just to be there. Kathleen was there almost every day with her husband and/or familia. My Italians called every day. How can I be so blessed? How can I ever pay back the love that is given so freely to me? It always makes me think of John Mayer's "Wheel" lyrics.. "I believe that my life's gonna see the love I give returned to me", but an inverse. I've learned how to love by being loved infinitely more than I ever thought possible, and I can only try to consistently give it back as fully. My heart overflows, everything within and all spillovers my truest connection to God.
I started this so flippantly and finished so somber, but just as joyous. That's all that's important, methinks. All of my hopes for your happiness.
I'm just thankful that I'm happy. Grateful. For life. For the beauty that's so big it can't help but have a tinge of pain at the outer edges, it encapsulates so much. Last night I had a pretty life altering experience, which is weird, because it was fundamentally simple. Someone did a vast array of things for me . . . parts of my heart that I didn't know were underdeveloped due to a lack of stimulation were shocked alive, beating against their premature size and aching for action. This someone, I know, is going to leave and never come back to this state. Back to me. I don't think it made the experience any more poignant than it would have been otherwise, but it makes me wonder about the paths our lives take us down. The "what if's" are endless. For the first time, I wondered what it would be like to explore God and faith and love with someone tangible, and I wanted it, badly. I might always, and maybe only with him.
All I know is that it's joining my list of inexplicably beautiful things that have happened to me that I haven't deserved and can only hope to earn with my future actions, and it's at the top. So beautiful there's a salty sadness at the fringe. I hardly know you, and as sure as I am of our relative mystery to each other, I'm going to miss you every time I wish for your touch. And I'll never resent the missing, or regret the memories that are its fodder.
So, on another note, my friends came out in force when I needed them recently. I was hospitalized for nine days..details aren't important.. and a handful of sacred loves were there every day I was in. My Mattie, my dearest, sat with me for four hours through the damn national ice skating championships just to be there. Kathleen was there almost every day with her husband and/or familia. My Italians called every day. How can I be so blessed? How can I ever pay back the love that is given so freely to me? It always makes me think of John Mayer's "Wheel" lyrics.. "I believe that my life's gonna see the love I give returned to me", but an inverse. I've learned how to love by being loved infinitely more than I ever thought possible, and I can only try to consistently give it back as fully. My heart overflows, everything within and all spillovers my truest connection to God.
I started this so flippantly and finished so somber, but just as joyous. That's all that's important, methinks. All of my hopes for your happiness.
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