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This was said to me yesterday: "I think you think you do things that are strange sometimes, and they're not as strange as you think." That entire sentence, is brilliant. And the person who said it to me, is simply one of the coolest people I know and obviously, I must add brilliant to the list of many fine qualities he possesses. I told him I was stealing it and would always give him credit. He said no need to credit him, I could have it, as a gift. That is better than getting flowers or candy or anything else.
I worry about my friend and her fiancé. From the beginning, their relationship has been littered with drama. It has changed her so much and sometimes I wonder if our friendship has run its course, or if it's merely a growing pain that will subside. I find I have less and less to say, there's an imbalance somewhere and I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's simply that she's engaged, sometimes when your friends couple up and you remain single, there's a shift in the dynamic of the friendship. Or maybe it's me and I've outgrown her.
More often than not, I don't know where I'm going. Not when I'm in my car, of course. But my life. In general. I have moments of contentment, and then … it's just gone and the familiar longings are back. When I think I've let go of something from a deeper place, I'm only reminded moments later that there is more letting go to come. And I get scared. And I want to start grabbing onto things or people. But nothing seems to fit. I feel like a stranger walking around in my life, and I desperately need a map.
I felt like I was carrying around something heavy yesterday. On the inside. Does that make sense? I hate days like that. It completely distorts everything in my line of sight, paints everything the color blue. In an attempt to make myself feel better, because I didn't want to wallow, … I went shopping during lunch. I should institute a new rule that I can't buy one more stitch of clothing until I clean out my damn closet. There are so many clothes in there that I can't / don't wear anymore … it's starting to get out of hand.
I don't always understand where it is I'm going or what I'm doing, but I'm trying really hard to just keep moving forward. It's something that is tremendously important to me: forward motion. Sometimes I feel stuck and I know that if I can just take one step forward the momentum will return. I'll regain my footing and begin again. This life looks nothing like I planned or even anticipated and I'm often scared that I won't like this different road I'm on. The people I'm bringing into my life are so different and surprise me in so many ways.
I have an ABBA song stuck in my head… goes like this… "There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando. They were shining there for you and me for liberty, Fernando." Now, you will also have that song in your head and we'll collectively sing ABBA and it will be beautiful. Much like this day. I don't know if it's because it's Friday, or if it's because the sun is shining and it's a beautiful Texas day, but whatever funk has been knocking on my door trying to move in, finally got the hint…and left.
I used to be fat. Not Orca fat, not the kind that gets you in magazines or on talk shows, I wasn't dangerously obese. But make no mistake, 20-30 extra pounds, especially on a woman, is fat. There were mind games I would play on myself back then. Using words like voluptuous or proclaiming loudly that I was perfectly content not being a skinny, stick of a girl. In my quiet and honest moments, I desperately wanted to be a skinny, stick of a girl. I thought it would fix everything that was wrong with my life. I was wrong.
Mother's Day. There's a little voice in my head that goes "big whoop" when I write that. Not that I don't love my Mom and the various women in my life who have mothered me in some way. I have lots of aunts who have stepped into the mom role, I had a best friend in high school whose mother filled those shoes after my parents divorce. I have girlfriends who know sometimes a little mothering is necessary in friendships. I have a sister who often mothered me and still sometimes does. My life has always been rich with mothers.
This should come as no surprise. When I was little, I wanted to be a maid in a hotel. This story comes via my mother, so take it for what it's worth but apparently, we were staying in some hotel during a vacation and my mom claims that my sister and I would wait for the housekeepers to come so we could help change the sheets, make the beds and put out fresh towels. Good God. I can actually see us doing that. Cleaning was fun! Ha. My mom did something right if she could turn chores into something fun.
I believe whatever it is you think about yourself will show up in your life. If you think you're a loser, people who confirm that begin to appear. If you think your life sucks, you will get massive amounts of suckage on your front doorstep. But if you think your life is awesome, that who you are is pretty fucking cool… people who think that will show up. Your life starts to reflect it and you get into your groove, the days you spend content and in the zone out number the days you spend discouraged or just plain unhappy.
I have a fever blister. Yep. Herpes simplex I. Nice little blisters on my lip making me look like a leper. I hate feeling insecure, wanting to hide my face and not look anyone in the eye. I don't have a date, there's no chance someone will try and kiss me, I'm not having my pictures taken … but I'm still mad. The irrational kind of mad, because there's nothing I can do and the 13 year old that lives in me stomps her foot, throws herself on the bed and says "not fair! not fair!". What a drama queen.
I'm going to stop watching the news. It feels like exploiting human pain is the only reason things are considered newsworthy. Look at the top stories … they reflect what we're interested in. We eat up the pain of others, rubber neck their tragedies. That's what disturbs me. Not that the news is what it is but our thirst for it. We want to know who was killed, how, why & what that pain looks like. I'm not pointing a judgmental finger, I'm guilty of clicking the link to read the story … but there's always a price to pay.
My only boy cat, Spencer, has taken the official role of Water King. There are two water thingies (not bowls but … whatever, it's the cat water) and Spencer has started laying his big fat ass in front of the one in my bedroom. I don't know if he's really trying to prevent the other two from getting water, but he sure looks menacing. Which sort of cracks me up, because of the three, he is the most cowardly. Make any sudden moves and he gives up his post guarding the water and makes a mad dash under the bed.
I bought a car today. I'm 33 and this was the first time. Maybe that makes me a little bit of a late bloomer in the doing grown up shit section of life, but so be it. It's hard to buy something you like when you don't even know what it is you like. Until I got behind the wheel of the car and drove it around, I had no idea what I wanted or what things were important to me. Turns out, I'm fairly easy to please, or I'm just a pushover with a bad case of instant gratificationitious.
I love the moon. I feel drawn to it. I've been known to stop, mid-sentence and stare when it catches my eye. I don't know if in another life I worshiped the moon, but there is a reverence I feel, similar to what I assume others feel when they see images of the Virgin Mary. I love the cyclical nature, the constant rebirth that it represents as it moves through its stages. There is comfort in knowing that it will return to its fullness again, much like human life, what waxes will wane and what is new will become full.
It is quite possible I'm already in love with him. But I shouldn't be. He doesn't want me to be. Damn it, my timing is never right. And I fall for the unavailable, emotionally damaged (aren't we all though?) men who break my heart and leave me in a heap on the floor. I know I will continue to take this road until I have learned whatever it is I'm trying to learn. Fine then. But I won't stop myself from being in love with him, it's the only thing I know to do. Even though it breaks my heart
Sometimes I just don't have anything to write. I sit at the computer, racking my brain for something … anything to compel me to write it down. And I come up blank. I know this isn't unique to me, but I don't know what else to do except write about the fact that I haven't one single thing to say. At least nothing that will fit into one hundred words. Doing this I've discovered I use a lot of damn words. And often I'm having to find ways to scale it back. To say what I need in less words.
Two of my coworkers are having an affair. I say affair because she is married to someone else. Otherwise it would be an office romance….which has a much nicer ring to it. I know about it because I'm friendly with the guys in his department, who gossip more than a bunch of old ladies. So the other-man asks me if I know where to buy rose petals… um…hello? Florist? Coincidently, he called in sick, she's out today and I inadvertently stirred up a hornets nest when I mentioned the whole rose petals thing. Damn, it is such a soap opera.
I was supposed to have therapy today. But he needed to reschedule so it'll be another two weeks. When we rescheduled I thought it would be fine. And it is, mostly. I just feel out of sorts, like I've lost whatever balance I'd managed to scrape together. I don't know what is changing, what new things are on their way to me, but I'm fairly certain it's why I feel so off lately. On some level I know that things are moving, changing, and I'm just trying not to be afraid of it, trying not to assume that it's negative.
I can't seem to shake the sadness, the heaviness that has been in me all day. Like I'm wearing wet clothes, carrying around the heaviness on the inside. There is nothing tangible wrong, there is no great drama occurring in my life that would warrant such sadness, and yet, it's there. At some point tonight, I'll just give in to it. I'll sob myself to sleep, because this is what I do and sometimes I'm sure that I will soon run out of tears. I'm only 33 and I wonder if I'll have enough tears to last until the end.
Sweet little blonde haired girl riding in a grocery cart packed full. She's whining, asking her mom and dad for something, I'm not sure what. As they pass the loaves of bread her mother grabs two, and hands one to the little girl. Who promptly hugs the loaf to herself as if it's her long lost friend. She squeezes that bread and says it's her favorite and that she loves it and that she wants to hold it. God. I love that little girl in that moment, because I too want to hug the bread I love it so much.
Getting home at 6am is really out of character. But here I am on a Sunday, laying around on my couch because I stayed out so late that it turned into the next day. I do hate wasting a day, but when I weigh the fun against the lethargic waste of a day … it's worth it. I like going out with these guys, we always go somewhere I've never been. And Chris and I always end up making out like high schoolers. Which I also like. We are technically "just friends"...I am not complaining. He's a good kisser.
A long time ago someone I knew via the Internet sent me The Four Loves on tape, which is narrated by the author, C.S. Lewis. It's on my list of prized possessions, second only to the autographed copy of Fahrenheit 451 (Ray Bradbury). I'm not normally a science fiction or fantasy fan, but you couldn't tell from my list of favorite authors. It's their non-fiction that I love, and the fact they can make someone who doesn't enjoy the genre an enormous fan of their style, storytelling ability, and the gift of being able to convey their thoughts so beautifully.
Meditation can bring change, albeit slow, but if you pay attention you start to see it. Sometimes that change, or even an awareness of what needs change, is painful. When you discover something in yourself you didn't know existed. A place that needs healing you didn't even realize had become infected. I want to fix this in me, and it's proving difficult. I keep wanting to say "I'm sorry." But the person I harmed has moved on and I wonder how long I'll keep myself on the hook for it, stuck in the guilt and sorrow for my own behavior.
She's going to have her fourth baby next month, and now she's on bed rest. I'm so glad this is the last pregnancy, and it will be interesting to see how she changes, since she's been pregnant, more or less, for the last four years. I love her children as if they were mine, and maybe this is as it should be, that I do not have my own, but simply love the children in my life as if they were. I sometimes think, even though I'm only 33, that I've started to mourn the loss of never having children.
Ever meet someone and you instantly don't like them? As if you were mortal enemies in another life. I ran into someone like that today and had to make small talk for what felt like hours. She has never done anything to me, but there's something … maybe just the things I know about her coupled with the vibe I get when I'm around her. If we weren't in a public place, I might say "listen, we aren't friends, I don't want to be friends and please stop calling me baby, honey or sweetie… we aren't friends. So shut it."
Things are changing and it thrills and terrifies as only impending change can. I don't know what's coming or what's going to change but I can feel it in my bones. A knowing that tells me to be still and listen. And Wait. Stillness is new for me, I'm more accustomed to frantic energy and constant movement that serve as a distraction. I don't want distraction any longer, so I'm learning to be still. Ignoring that energy swirling around me, that's telling me to move! move! move! … as if movement keeps the change at bay. Experience tells me otherwise.
I have five trash cans in my one bedroom apartment. A friend confirmed for me that yes, that's weird. I didn't consciously set out to have that many … it just sort of happened. I want to put one in the sunroom but I am resisting. So far. I'm sure at some point I'll get annoyed and stomp off to get a new one. I would also like to know how in the hell I produce so much trash… I am one person … how, over the course of three days have I accumulated two trash bags full of crap?
I was in a psychiatric hospital for 14 days. I've been in love with another woman's husband. I am terrible with directions. Math gives me hives. I have put a loaded gun in my mouth. I have a ring from an ex-boyfriend I wear and sometimes pretend I'm married. I have conversations with myself, out loud. It takes me almost two hours to get dressed. I have eaten food from the trash. Money makes me cry. My closet & drawers are messy. I snooped on babysitting jobs. I have poured chocolate sauce from the bottle into my mouth. For dinner.
I love terms of endearment. No, not the movie. The movie sucked, but I think I'm the only one who thinks that, you know, because of all the awards and shit. Whatever. I've discovered this…preference? Love? Intense like? … something … for being referred to as ‘honey', ‘sweetie', ‘sweet pea', ‘baby', ‘love'… I don't know why. Maybe it's the affection it implies, or maybe I'm weird. Someone answered with "yes baby" recently and it was like having my back scratched. It felt nice. The Asshole used to call me doll face… I liked it, even though he was a tool.
I walked around delusional for a long time thinking I was fooling people, but I was not. I am transparent. It's still a new thing for me to know about myself. I swear to God I really thought I was fooling people. Not maliciously, not in a "haha, I'm pulling one over on you" sort of way, but out of self preservation. And these days, what I feel doesn't always match what I think and it's a dissonance that frustrates me. I feel misunderstood as the emotions playing out across my face don't reflect what I know to be true.
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