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.

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

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

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

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!

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.

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.)