Sounds like something by Camus, maybe even Duras. Good title for a book. I've been thinking of them lately. Although I don't know if I want to write a book....
Here is a poem: Anger
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Forever isn't what it used to be, or is it?
I'm sure someone was eating pot roast on the bus this morning. The smell was unmistakable. What else could smell like that? It smelled like pot roast straight from the oven....But, the question is, who would eat pot roast on the bus? I know I shouldn't even ask that question....
Anyway, here I am. Hopefully nearing the end of these journal-ly type of posts. I am less venomous now, if only because I am completely empty inside. I saw my ex, I need to think of something better to call him...Trick, perhaps? No, ex will do, because I won't be writing much more about him again, ever. When I saw him, I felt nothing, not even contempt, it was like he wasn't even there. His existence didn't matter. His existence didn't register. I'm not sure what's worse, hating someone, or feeling nothing. I can actually answer that. For me, feeling nothing is worse. It means that someone doesn't matter to me anymore and that they will soon slip from my memory, as if they never existed. I am sure that in the days to come this will make me sad. After all, he was my 'home'. He was the one I wanted in my life forever. It's hard to accept that there is nothing in me for him, that he could put me at risk....I guess, foolishly I thought that no matter what happened between us, we could put those differences aside, and still be there for each other when it really counted. I thought that we were friends. I was wrong. That's what hurt the most. But it doesn't anymore, it's over. No more of this....forever.
Anyway, here I am. Hopefully nearing the end of these journal-ly type of posts. I am less venomous now, if only because I am completely empty inside. I saw my ex, I need to think of something better to call him...Trick, perhaps? No, ex will do, because I won't be writing much more about him again, ever. When I saw him, I felt nothing, not even contempt, it was like he wasn't even there. His existence didn't matter. His existence didn't register. I'm not sure what's worse, hating someone, or feeling nothing. I can actually answer that. For me, feeling nothing is worse. It means that someone doesn't matter to me anymore and that they will soon slip from my memory, as if they never existed. I am sure that in the days to come this will make me sad. After all, he was my 'home'. He was the one I wanted in my life forever. It's hard to accept that there is nothing in me for him, that he could put me at risk....I guess, foolishly I thought that no matter what happened between us, we could put those differences aside, and still be there for each other when it really counted. I thought that we were friends. I was wrong. That's what hurt the most. But it doesn't anymore, it's over. No more of this....forever.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Today...(revisited)
Today I am angry.
This is the first real chance I have had to sit and think and write, not in private, of course. But, it's better for me than not doing it at all.
But, I am angry. There are many reasons, but first, I am angry that I have let someone so weak and emotionally-retarded make me angry. Then I am angry that I gave myself (and was ready to give even more) to him. I don't regret having loved my ex, and I did with everything. When I realized I loved him, I cried and cried because I couldn't be with him at that exact moment. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe normally, I had this crazy nervous feeling all of the time. And then, when I finally saw him, everything was okay....It felt like home. But only for a little while. He didn't like that, me being happy, him being happy, us being happy together. Maybe if I had been a prostitute or something, he would have preferred it.
Anyway, I don't regret that I loved him, I regret that I didn't see...I didn't see him for what he really is. And, as I said, I'm angry. I'm angry that he never told the truth and that he played games with me. That he took advantage, for the second time, of my love for him and what that meant, and that he used things against me that he knew would hurt the most, and that he lied. I'm angry that he took from me and never gave and then blamed my gifts (of love and tenderness) for the demise of whatever it was that existed between us.
And for more than any other reason, I am angry now because he has made me hate him. He has taken the beauty of what I had to give, thrown it at my feet and trampled on it. He has behaved as though I am nothing. As though my respect, my admiration, my love was nothing. I am angry that I let him. I am angry that I've cried and that my eyes fill with tears as I write this....
And now, I hate him. I never wanted to; I tried so hard not to. I know that it is wrong, I believe that it is wrong, to hate anyone, that is. But, I do. I hate him.
This is the first real chance I have had to sit and think and write, not in private, of course. But, it's better for me than not doing it at all.
But, I am angry. There are many reasons, but first, I am angry that I have let someone so weak and emotionally-retarded make me angry. Then I am angry that I gave myself (and was ready to give even more) to him. I don't regret having loved my ex, and I did with everything. When I realized I loved him, I cried and cried because I couldn't be with him at that exact moment. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe normally, I had this crazy nervous feeling all of the time. And then, when I finally saw him, everything was okay....It felt like home. But only for a little while. He didn't like that, me being happy, him being happy, us being happy together. Maybe if I had been a prostitute or something, he would have preferred it.
Anyway, I don't regret that I loved him, I regret that I didn't see...I didn't see him for what he really is. And, as I said, I'm angry. I'm angry that he never told the truth and that he played games with me. That he took advantage, for the second time, of my love for him and what that meant, and that he used things against me that he knew would hurt the most, and that he lied. I'm angry that he took from me and never gave and then blamed my gifts (of love and tenderness) for the demise of whatever it was that existed between us.
And for more than any other reason, I am angry now because he has made me hate him. He has taken the beauty of what I had to give, thrown it at my feet and trampled on it. He has behaved as though I am nothing. As though my respect, my admiration, my love was nothing. I am angry that I let him. I am angry that I've cried and that my eyes fill with tears as I write this....
And now, I hate him. I never wanted to; I tried so hard not to. I know that it is wrong, I believe that it is wrong, to hate anyone, that is. But, I do. I hate him.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Meu nome é Rachel...
Today, in spite of all of the craziness, the homelessness, and the venom I'm feeling right now, I forced myself to go to my first Portuguese lesson. I have always wanted to learn, I think that it is the most beautiful language. So sensual, so fluid, so....mmmm, I don't know. I just love it. I can't wait for the day that it flows freely from my tongue.....
My fantasy is to someday sing Jazz or Bossa Nova in Portuguese. I think the timbre of my voice (if that's the correct term) would be perfect for the Brazilian style of singing. Of course, I have to learn the language first. I'm very excited about it. It was a bright spot.
My fantasy is to someday sing Jazz or Bossa Nova in Portuguese. I think the timbre of my voice (if that's the correct term) would be perfect for the Brazilian style of singing. Of course, I have to learn the language first. I'm very excited about it. It was a bright spot.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Today....
It was not easy, today. I'm not sure why, I think everything is coming to a head, all of the changes the crises, the joys, the pain of the last year. I am tired. I may have said this before. I want to curl up and take a nap, but there's just not time for that right now. Soon....
I want someone to be nice to me unconditionally. People always think I don't need that for some reason. I want someone to see that I do need that and then, miracle of all miracles, do it. Yes, there are violins playing in the background as I write this....Today is just one of those days....
Anyway, In the midst of this fairly emotionally-charged haze I am walking around in, I found myself engaged in a conversation about love, soul mates, lust, pornography, depravity....Huge, I know. Please don't ask me how we managed to cover all of that and more. But, when I think about it, these topics occupy both ends of the same spectrum and it's really not so broad.
One person asked us all if we had ever found our soul mate. I had to think, because, as I may have mentioned previously, I have never necessarily believed in this concept. But when I did consider it all, the events surrounding my boy, who is no longer my boy, I came to the conclusion, that, in fact, he, despite the craziness of our relationship, is my soul mate. This person, with whom I was speaking today suggested that the person who makes "you feel like home..." is your soul mate. Hmmm, what a nice thought.
Something that recently hit me like a ton of bricks is that just because you love someone (and maybe they love you), just because you are connected to someone, just because they may be your soul mate, it doesn't mean you will be with them. None of that is a guarantee. Which may not be so sad after all, maybe it can ultimately provide a sense of peace. Knowing that there is the 'other half' of you out there, and I don't mean this in a whiny, overly romantic, 16 year-old sort of way. It also does not mean that you or they will be ready or able to be with each other or even good for each other. I knew all of this but, knowing something and living something are two vastly different things....
More life lessons, enough already....
So, I trudge on through the rest of this day, realizing that I need to make more money so that I can finally get my own apartment, that I need to call my grandmother , that I need to have more contact with my parents, that I need to pay some bills because they are late, that I need to find a yoga class, that I need to write something to try and get it published, and that I need to sleep. Right now this list seems never-ending. Everything swirling 'round and 'round in my head. "Just take one day at a time..." my boy told me not so long ago, when he was still my boy.
There is a misty rain now, all of a sudden. Seattle. But, I have to pick myself up and go out into it, go home, read more, write more, take the next step.
I want someone to be nice to me unconditionally. People always think I don't need that for some reason. I want someone to see that I do need that and then, miracle of all miracles, do it. Yes, there are violins playing in the background as I write this....Today is just one of those days....
Anyway, In the midst of this fairly emotionally-charged haze I am walking around in, I found myself engaged in a conversation about love, soul mates, lust, pornography, depravity....Huge, I know. Please don't ask me how we managed to cover all of that and more. But, when I think about it, these topics occupy both ends of the same spectrum and it's really not so broad.
One person asked us all if we had ever found our soul mate. I had to think, because, as I may have mentioned previously, I have never necessarily believed in this concept. But when I did consider it all, the events surrounding my boy, who is no longer my boy, I came to the conclusion, that, in fact, he, despite the craziness of our relationship, is my soul mate. This person, with whom I was speaking today suggested that the person who makes "you feel like home..." is your soul mate. Hmmm, what a nice thought.
Something that recently hit me like a ton of bricks is that just because you love someone (and maybe they love you), just because you are connected to someone, just because they may be your soul mate, it doesn't mean you will be with them. None of that is a guarantee. Which may not be so sad after all, maybe it can ultimately provide a sense of peace. Knowing that there is the 'other half' of you out there, and I don't mean this in a whiny, overly romantic, 16 year-old sort of way. It also does not mean that you or they will be ready or able to be with each other or even good for each other. I knew all of this but, knowing something and living something are two vastly different things....
More life lessons, enough already....
So, I trudge on through the rest of this day, realizing that I need to make more money so that I can finally get my own apartment, that I need to call my grandmother , that I need to have more contact with my parents, that I need to pay some bills because they are late, that I need to find a yoga class, that I need to write something to try and get it published, and that I need to sleep. Right now this list seems never-ending. Everything swirling 'round and 'round in my head. "Just take one day at a time..." my boy told me not so long ago, when he was still my boy.
There is a misty rain now, all of a sudden. Seattle. But, I have to pick myself up and go out into it, go home, read more, write more, take the next step.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Inshallah!!
Dare I say am enjoying life?
Despite being broke and effectively homeless, I feel good. Inshallah!!* I'm not sure I've ever been able to say that. Even when those around me are not, I see clearly and I am even, GULP, optimistic about the future. That's not like me.
For the last year or so, life has been chaotic, or at least that's what most would say from the outside looking in. When all of it started, I set out with a very specific plan to find the place where I belong. It has taken 9 months, my life savings, the disintegration of a relationship I'd built up in my head for years, and a trip almost half way around the world, but I am good...able to smile frequently, laugh easily, and believe there are possibilities....
No one has understood why. Certains** close to me have commented on what they consider my immaturity, my naivete, my lack of focus, and even my selfishness. I have found that when you cease to fit into the role you have traditionally played in the lives of others, it ususually doesn't sit well with them. You end up forcing change, a new way of being, on people who never intended it. Today, the cutest cab driver (Orange Cab in the house) asked me if I was a trouble maker. I told him it depends on who you ask. Ain't that the truth.
That's not my intention of course. I once came across a horoscope that something like:
"You live too aggressively and love too obssessively
and you always demand the impossible. That's the glory and
the terror of being you. Don't ever change, babe..."
This is true. Although I've tried in the past to suppress this particular way of being in the world, to no avail. It went on to say:
"...there may come a time when living too aggressively and loving too obssessively
will be just the right amount and demanding the impossible will make
perfect sense. On that strange and happy day you will achieve all that you thought
would secretly elude you forever, think you can handle that much success?"
I saved that one. (find more horoscopes like it here)
I am wondering if that time is coming now. I am beginning to see that while I haven't gotten what I wanted, I've gotten what I needed. That is really the trick, recognizing that at any given moment, you are where you're supposed to be, even if it seems wrong or painful or depressing. Everything happens for a reason and is part of what you need. In the end, on a deeper level, what you need can also become what you want, if you let it....inshallah....
*It is also not my intention to offend or diminish the importance of this phrase/concept by using it here. But I began to say it in France, where Arabic and Muslim expressions, words, phrases are creeping into French popular culture much like, Black culture has come to dominate populare culture in the United States. People use Inshallah quite a bit , Muslims & non-Muslims alike, not always in a religious context, I noticed. It's the perfect phrase to express a sentiment of something that will happen in the future that you have very little control over. It kind of like something my grandmother and other people from the South always say: "God willing and the creek don't rise..." but not quite, it's hard to translate. I find myself saying or thinking it here (in English) sometimes....
**The people (family members and friends) I'm referring to here happen to be all of the things they accuse me of being, strangely enough.
Despite being broke and effectively homeless, I feel good. Inshallah!!* I'm not sure I've ever been able to say that. Even when those around me are not, I see clearly and I am even, GULP, optimistic about the future. That's not like me.
For the last year or so, life has been chaotic, or at least that's what most would say from the outside looking in. When all of it started, I set out with a very specific plan to find the place where I belong. It has taken 9 months, my life savings, the disintegration of a relationship I'd built up in my head for years, and a trip almost half way around the world, but I am good...able to smile frequently, laugh easily, and believe there are possibilities....
No one has understood why. Certains** close to me have commented on what they consider my immaturity, my naivete, my lack of focus, and even my selfishness. I have found that when you cease to fit into the role you have traditionally played in the lives of others, it ususually doesn't sit well with them. You end up forcing change, a new way of being, on people who never intended it. Today, the cutest cab driver (Orange Cab in the house) asked me if I was a trouble maker. I told him it depends on who you ask. Ain't that the truth.
That's not my intention of course. I once came across a horoscope that something like:
"You live too aggressively and love too obssessively
and you always demand the impossible. That's the glory and
the terror of being you. Don't ever change, babe..."
This is true. Although I've tried in the past to suppress this particular way of being in the world, to no avail. It went on to say:
"...there may come a time when living too aggressively and loving too obssessively
will be just the right amount and demanding the impossible will make
perfect sense. On that strange and happy day you will achieve all that you thought
would secretly elude you forever, think you can handle that much success?"
I saved that one. (find more horoscopes like it here)
I am wondering if that time is coming now. I am beginning to see that while I haven't gotten what I wanted, I've gotten what I needed. That is really the trick, recognizing that at any given moment, you are where you're supposed to be, even if it seems wrong or painful or depressing. Everything happens for a reason and is part of what you need. In the end, on a deeper level, what you need can also become what you want, if you let it....inshallah....
*It is also not my intention to offend or diminish the importance of this phrase/concept by using it here. But I began to say it in France, where Arabic and Muslim expressions, words, phrases are creeping into French popular culture much like, Black culture has come to dominate populare culture in the United States. People use Inshallah quite a bit , Muslims & non-Muslims alike, not always in a religious context, I noticed. It's the perfect phrase to express a sentiment of something that will happen in the future that you have very little control over. It kind of like something my grandmother and other people from the South always say: "God willing and the creek don't rise..." but not quite, it's hard to translate. I find myself saying or thinking it here (in English) sometimes....
**The people (family members and friends) I'm referring to here happen to be all of the things they accuse me of being, strangely enough.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
For art's sake...
I am beginning to see myself as a writer, feel like an artist -- although I think writing is more of a craft than an art -- more than ever before. It is good. I am feeling better about everything despite all of the changes in my life. I regret nothing of the last year, not even leaving Paris. But, I feel the need to return there and I will. It is the only place that I've felt, for a long time, that I really belonged. Being there was an amazing struggle, but I feel like she (Paris) was preparing me for her (I think Paris is a chick, a Scorpio chick). I know that places have astrological signs, like Norway and Algeria are linked to the sign of Scorpio and I want to say New Orleans too, I'll have to look that up. I don't think Paris is actually linked to the sign of Scorpio, but I'd like to think she's like me...but I'm getting way off topic here.
For the first time this week, my writing got me into real trouble, so I was thinking that maybe now I have the right to begin calling myself a writer or a journalist. I know it will take so much more. But maybe I can call myself an artist, it's just waiting to come out. So much inside waiting to come out through words, images, etc...I don't say teacher anymore, though, when someone asks me.
What happens when people don't do the things that make them whole and feel like they are really living? I don't mean professionally, although sometimes the two -- your heart's desire and your professional life -- meet and I am imagining that there could be nothing better. But what I'm saying is, what happens when an artist doesn't do his art or a cyclist does ride his bike or a born teacher doesn't teach? When I had money, I bought lots of greeting cards, I had a big box full of them for every occasion and I found one once that said: "Do what you love and the money will follow, do what you hate and be like the rest of us." It was a quote made by a waitress in Florida. She is a font of wisdom, don't you think? I think about that a lot lately, especially after this week. Fortunately I am able to do this. Some people cannot. I am not naive in realizing just how fortunate I am...
I love writing, I need to now. What if I was still standing in front of a classroom in Chicago? What if Paris was still a dream? What if Seattle was not in my life now? What if I was not writing? I ask again:
What happens when people don't do the things that make them whole and feel like they are really living?
For the first time this week, my writing got me into real trouble, so I was thinking that maybe now I have the right to begin calling myself a writer or a journalist. I know it will take so much more. But maybe I can call myself an artist, it's just waiting to come out. So much inside waiting to come out through words, images, etc...I don't say teacher anymore, though, when someone asks me.
What happens when people don't do the things that make them whole and feel like they are really living? I don't mean professionally, although sometimes the two -- your heart's desire and your professional life -- meet and I am imagining that there could be nothing better. But what I'm saying is, what happens when an artist doesn't do his art or a cyclist does ride his bike or a born teacher doesn't teach? When I had money, I bought lots of greeting cards, I had a big box full of them for every occasion and I found one once that said: "Do what you love and the money will follow, do what you hate and be like the rest of us." It was a quote made by a waitress in Florida. She is a font of wisdom, don't you think? I think about that a lot lately, especially after this week. Fortunately I am able to do this. Some people cannot. I am not naive in realizing just how fortunate I am...
I love writing, I need to now. What if I was still standing in front of a classroom in Chicago? What if Paris was still a dream? What if Seattle was not in my life now? What if I was not writing? I ask again:
What happens when people don't do the things that make them whole and feel like they are really living?
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Things that should never be done on public transportation....
These days, I don't own a car, and I like that. Public transportation gets you out and about. You are forced to interact with people, the world around you. It even keeps you grounded, let's face it, you really can't be too proud when you're taking the bus. It is one of the great equalizers of our times. It is also a great way to learn your way in a new place. It was certainly true of my life in Chicago, before I became a quasi-yuppster. Even as a teenager, when I lived in Paraguay, I got to know the bus system well and the ferries that shuttled you between Posadas in Argentina and Encarnacion where I lived. A few years ago, when I traveled to Denmark frequently, I mastered the bus system there too. And, Paris, the city of my heart, I mastered the Metro, and it is becoming true of Seattle, where I now call home.*** Throughout these experiences, I have learned that there are just certain things you shouldn't do on public transportation. I have found, in my travels, that people are tacky and mal élévé around the world. We all have our moments, but we all know, in the name of all things holy, that public transportation just is not the place for...
***For those who have asked, Paris is calling and returning in the next few years is my goal, it's in my blood now!!!
- Eating anything that requires a knife and fork...
- Eating barbeque. Yes, all my people on the SOUTHSIDE, this means you.
- Eating anything, for that matter, unless you have some sort of medical condition...
- Painting fingernails or removing fingernail polish...
- Clipping toenails. Yes I saw it, I would not lie about this...
- Removing braids or extensions. Yes, all my people on the WESTSIDE and the Porte de la Chapelle area of Paris, this means you.
- Picking your nose, ears, scabs, etc...
- Farting as you walk down the aisle to get on or off...
- Adjusting body parts, undergarments, etc...
- Sitting in the opposite direction that all of the other seats are facing...
- Sitting in the opposite direction that all of the other seats are facing and engaging in any of the activities on this list...
- Reading big newspapers that you rest on people's backs/heads/shoulders...
- Reading newspapers over other people's shoulders...
- Drinking forties or empty Evian bottles filled with wine. We know what it is, Native Americans on the #18 in Seattle...
- Putting feet/umbrellas/pets on seats...
- Transporting chickens, iguana-looking lizards, parrots outside of cages, or at all...
- Wearing a loaded gun strapped to your leg during rush hour, then cautioning people around you not to "push up against you" too hard...
- Lying down, know matter how empty the bus is...
- Gesturing obscenely with your tongue at anyone, but especially me, when I am trying to read, guy on the #6 direction Porte d'Italie...
- Talking on cell phones...
- Talking loudly in general about...
- impending court dates, or those of your friends and family
- selling drugs
- your recent brain tumor removal surgery
- your fucking bitch of a girlfriend/boyfriend
- the fact that your SSI benefits are under question/you have to apply for WIC, etc...
- the fact that some girl "blew you in the backseat of" your new Audi...
***For those who have asked, Paris is calling and returning in the next few years is my goal, it's in my blood now!!!
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Go on ahead and kick it.....
So, life has taken yet another turn or twist, or whatever....
I am staying at my ex's house. The boy to whom I professed my undying love a few short months ago, the boy who factored into my decision to return to the United States from Paris. Now, I am afraid, "he gets no love from me". Wow, how things change. But I am here and he has been good enough to let me stay, although he keeps eating all of the really yummy things I cook before I can enjoy them myself, but I guess I can't complain. I can, but, I won't. I shouldn't, but I think I'm going to anyway....
So here it is, I am hoping he doesn't read this, because I really need to stay here for a little while longer while I save up for my own place, because I cannot live with anyone else. I just cannot. Fortunately, I think he would never admit to looking at my site. He would never want to appear interested in my life outside of how I relate to him, and even then....
Since coming here, we have barely spoken to each other, which I'm finding is a very good thing. When we have, which occurred this morning, he again revealed himself to be the same person I met 7 years ago. This man has not changed at all. He is still the same. He accuses me of that too, but he is looking at things about me that will never change, for instance:
I am staying at my ex's house. The boy to whom I professed my undying love a few short months ago, the boy who factored into my decision to return to the United States from Paris. Now, I am afraid, "he gets no love from me". Wow, how things change. But I am here and he has been good enough to let me stay, although he keeps eating all of the really yummy things I cook before I can enjoy them myself, but I guess I can't complain. I can, but, I won't. I shouldn't, but I think I'm going to anyway....
So here it is, I am hoping he doesn't read this, because I really need to stay here for a little while longer while I save up for my own place, because I cannot live with anyone else. I just cannot. Fortunately, I think he would never admit to looking at my site. He would never want to appear interested in my life outside of how I relate to him, and even then....
Since coming here, we have barely spoken to each other, which I'm finding is a very good thing. When we have, which occurred this morning, he again revealed himself to be the same person I met 7 years ago. This man has not changed at all. He is still the same. He accuses me of that too, but he is looking at things about me that will never change, for instance:
- I will never take orders from any man, anyone for that matter, just because they think I should
- I will not lose myself in order to be a part of someone's life
- I will not hide my emotions/feelings/wants/needs because they make someone else uncomfortable
- I will never do anything that compromises my integrity, my feelings of self worth, etc...
And, I think it's important to point out that I would never expect these things from anyone else either.
Why did I ever like this person? A friend recently asked me that. Okay, get ready for this, because it is going to start out a little bit lame. I liked him, because we have a very strong connection to each other. We are drawn to each other. Okay, that was the lame part. Now, for what could be construed as the naive part....When we were together, it was very difficult. We were younger and it was the first time, I think, that either one of us had experienced such intense admiration or passion for another person. We both have very strong personalities...We both were going through very difficult times. Now, I say this, because I believed, that the difficult times were the reason for our problems. Everything seemed to be a competition with us, a battle of wills. When we were able to come together, however, we talked and laughed and were genuinely friends. It was clear that there was genuine love and respect. But, it seemed that each of these times ended badly, because when things went well between us, when we were happy, he always did something to ruin it and I always fell into the trap and fed into the madness. He started arguments, anything he could do, to push me away from him. Over the years, and this is where the naivete comes in once again, I believed that this was simply because of our circumstances, I could never have believed that someone would permit themselves to continue to be as screwed up as we were, that someone would want nothing more for themselves. I know I did. However, when I returned to declare myself to him in February, the same thing happened. I was decidedly different, he was decidedly not. He cannot see or maybe does not value the changes in me that were so hard won and I am so proud of. He asked me when I left him in February why I had never asked about the man he had become. But, I saw no change. I really thought about it and I saw no positive change, at least not with me. I only saw that he had lost the beauty of the boy I knew....Perhaps he thinks the same of me. It still makes me sad....
So, I learned, that it wasn't circumstance, it was him. Either not wanting or not being capable....It is us....We, it seems, are not good for each other.....I have what I think could be good for him. He does not see that, won't let me in to know for sure. He has what he thinks I need, but won't give it, hasn't taken the time to know me to really see. Right place, right person, wrong lifetime, maybe......Wrong place, wrong person, wrong lifetime. I suppose any combination is possible. Whatever it is, it's just does not working.
The road to acceptance has been rocky. I am still stumbling from time to time, but I think I'll remain on this path. There is no future for me with him and none for him with me. I thought I would never say that. It seems so unreal. In the end, I can only be grateful for this experience. It has played a huge role in making me the woman I am today. So, I have to thank him for that and now, I can "...go on 'head and kick it..." as I know my friend Jesus would counsel....In Praise of Drunkeness
This week, for the first time in my life, I went to the store and bought a big bottle of fairly expensive beer (and quite yummy, I must add) with the singular goal of getting wasted. And I did. And it was really fun. And I did it all by myself to boot. Let me preface all of this by saying that I don't advocate alcoholism or anything, but I think, there's something really nice about an alcohol-induced haze from time to time. Damnit, I'd do it again...Hey, I'll do it again soon.
I was compelled because, I'd had a really rough week. I had to move with my ex unexpectedly and the stress was just overwhelming. In fact I bought and drank my bottle of Maudite the very first night I spent chez my ex. I won't go into why I had to move or my feelings about being here, because the former doesn't really matter and the latter has been done to death. But getting drunk, what a pleasant feeling. The sensation washed over me slowly as I sat at the dining room table. When I stood up, I realized, the deed had been done. It was a 750ml bottle and I drank every last drop of it. Maudite, I bought it because of the name, the damned one, or the damned girl. I'm missing France and I was feeling sorry for myself too, so I thought, how fitting. But when I tasted it. YUM!! Dark, rich, slightly sweet and spicy. Oh, like me, except for the rich part. Okay, let me get back to the topic at hand before I descend any further into 'cheese-ville' and before this becomes an endorsement for the beer itself, which would not be a bad thing, because let me tell you, it's delicious. In any case, I was intensely relaxed. I was moving slowly, the world around me was moving slowly and things were calmed for the moment.
I recently read an article about this topic with a slightly different angle, you can read it here. The author extols the virtues of partaking from time to time....It has been, for me, something of a taboo as I have more than a few family members who take/have taken things to the extreme, but I have never gone overboard with drug or drink. Really, it, getting sloshed for it's own sake, is something that I had all but forgotten about since my college days. Even then I didn't drink to get drunk, it was all more a requisite part of the larger activity at hand - partying - and yes, I have used the word party as a verb here. Again, I am not talking about intoxication in the peeing-on-the-side-of-the-road, crawling-on-disgusting-bar-bathroom-floor, praying-to- the-porcelain-god sort of way, I am referring more to the very warm, comfortable feeling of being buzzed. Almost like floating in very warm water. There is really something to be something to be said for it.
Do I advocate alcoholism or any sort of habitually soused state of being? No. Do I think that alcoholic beverages should be consumed before noon? Generally speaking, no -- mimosas being one very big and important exception. The days of beer bongs and drinking games are a bit of a distant memory for me and I like that. Maybe then, the title here is overstated and should be instead: In praise of being buzzed. Perhaps. But, I'll leave it as it is, because I think there's something to be said for peeing on the side of the road or losing your shoes in a field occasionally too....Maybe it's high time I rounded up my homies for that too....**
**we'll wear our payless shoes that night!!
I was compelled because, I'd had a really rough week. I had to move with my ex unexpectedly and the stress was just overwhelming. In fact I bought and drank my bottle of Maudite the very first night I spent chez my ex. I won't go into why I had to move or my feelings about being here, because the former doesn't really matter and the latter has been done to death. But getting drunk, what a pleasant feeling. The sensation washed over me slowly as I sat at the dining room table. When I stood up, I realized, the deed had been done. It was a 750ml bottle and I drank every last drop of it. Maudite, I bought it because of the name, the damned one, or the damned girl. I'm missing France and I was feeling sorry for myself too, so I thought, how fitting. But when I tasted it. YUM!! Dark, rich, slightly sweet and spicy. Oh, like me, except for the rich part. Okay, let me get back to the topic at hand before I descend any further into 'cheese-ville' and before this becomes an endorsement for the beer itself, which would not be a bad thing, because let me tell you, it's delicious. In any case, I was intensely relaxed. I was moving slowly, the world around me was moving slowly and things were calmed for the moment.
I recently read an article about this topic with a slightly different angle, you can read it here. The author extols the virtues of partaking from time to time....It has been, for me, something of a taboo as I have more than a few family members who take/have taken things to the extreme, but I have never gone overboard with drug or drink. Really, it, getting sloshed for it's own sake, is something that I had all but forgotten about since my college days. Even then I didn't drink to get drunk, it was all more a requisite part of the larger activity at hand - partying - and yes, I have used the word party as a verb here. Again, I am not talking about intoxication in the peeing-on-the-side-of-the-road, crawling-on-disgusting-bar-bathroom-floor, praying-to- the-porcelain-god sort of way, I am referring more to the very warm, comfortable feeling of being buzzed. Almost like floating in very warm water. There is really something to be something to be said for it.
Do I advocate alcoholism or any sort of habitually soused state of being? No. Do I think that alcoholic beverages should be consumed before noon? Generally speaking, no -- mimosas being one very big and important exception. The days of beer bongs and drinking games are a bit of a distant memory for me and I like that. Maybe then, the title here is overstated and should be instead: In praise of being buzzed. Perhaps. But, I'll leave it as it is, because I think there's something to be said for peeing on the side of the road or losing your shoes in a field occasionally too....Maybe it's high time I rounded up my homies for that too....**
**we'll wear our payless shoes that night!!
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Unbelievable
I am not updating nearly as much as I should, I know. This is not good for an aspiring writer and journalist, but hey, I have self-discipline issues. Isn't recognition the first step to healing?
Anyway....
I am loathe to post this on my own site, but I feel compelled....
After browsing blogs, I found this:
http://5stagesoflove.blogspot.com/
Written apparently by a man who has all of the answers for the ladies. Or maybe not, maybe it is just what he thinks and he's sharing, but it sure sounds as if he's trying to enlighten the fairer sex.....WOW!!
More to come.....
Anyway....
I am loathe to post this on my own site, but I feel compelled....
After browsing blogs, I found this:
http://5stagesoflove.blogspot.com/
Written apparently by a man who has all of the answers for the ladies. Or maybe not, maybe it is just what he thinks and he's sharing, but it sure sounds as if he's trying to enlighten the fairer sex.....WOW!!
More to come.....
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Lily, Queen of Bunnies
I have a bunny, her name is Lily. If you ever saw her, you'd say she was the most beautiful bunny you'd ever seen, really, she's very pretty. I was not able to bring her because I don't have my own place here yet. Since moving here to Seattle, I miss her terribly. That's crazy, she's a rabbit for god's sake. Even more importantly, she doesn't really like me that much, at least not all of the time. We've had quite a rocky relationship, she and I. When I first got her, we shared my apartment and she destroyed every exposed wire, newspaper, baseboard, remote control button, shoe sole, candle...well, I think you get the idea. Needless to say, we had a very difficult first year together. She chewed through 5 telephone cords in a month and a half and got part way through a USB cable and power cable for my computer. Once, I went about 4 days without receiving a phone call, when I finally checked the phone, I found that it was no longer attached to the wall. Now, every piece of electronic equipment I own has some part of its cord wrapped with electrician's tape to hide exposed wires. The amazing thing about all of this, is that she chewed most of this stuff while it was plugged in. I can't believe she is not a rabbit fricassee at this point.
Anyway, I miss her. Even though she has a really bad attitude and ignores me sometimes. When I say bad attitude, I mean, when she doesn't want to be bothered she grunts at me-rabbits aren't really supposed to make noise. When I say she ignores me, I mean often, when I am talking to her or trying to coax her to me, she will simply look at me and then turn around with her back to me while I am talking to her, literally. I am telling you, she does this on purpose, as if to say: 'You must realize, silly woman, that I am not interested, even vaguely in what you are saying and I have no intention in complying with your wishes.' I'm telling you, she's very smart, she knows. She does things on purpose. She knows her name, although, I call her many things: Lilypad, Baby Girl, Little Girl, Pumpkin, Pumpkin-face. She particularly likes Baby Girl, I think. In fact, she may actually think that's her name, because for the first 6 months that I had her, I couldn't figure out what to call her, so I called her Baby Girl or just plain old Girl. She knows the word no, God knows she's heard it enough. Sometimes, I talk to her in French and she likes the sound of it, she is my lapinette. I don't have any framed pictures of her though. Just before I left the Chi (Chicago) I took the first picture ever of her.
She is also sick. She has abscesses in her mouth that she will probably die from eventually. She needs injections of penicillin every other day and will continue to need them for the rest of her life. So, I am worried, because although she is being well taken care of now, I have left her. I feel that I am the one who should be doing those things for her now. When I returned from Paris 3 months ago, she was very sick. She was close to death and no one seemed to notice, it seems, that I came back just in time. Learning of her illness was difficult and even moreso when I learned that I had to give her shots. It took so long to feel comfortable doing it and it really was emotionally draining at first. I wondered if she could possibly have a good life when she have to go through this for the rest of it.
I left her. I feel terribly guilty, even though I feel that I didn't have a choice. Before moving, I lied down on the floor and explained everything to her. Through tears, I even told her about the problems with my boy. After I finished, she hopped over to me and nudged my ear with her twitchy little nose. I think she understood. Okay, maybe not, but it felt pretty good to have her acknowledge me. These days, she is the thing that has kept me going. I have been feeling quite sad about my boy. Knowing that it is all over now is difficult and she keeps me focused. I have to move, find my own place so I can go back to Illinois and get her. I think she will like it her, I was considering getting her one of those rabbit leashes (seriously, they make them), so I can take her to the park here. She would love it. But I have to think about that one, bunnies on leashes could rank up there with cats on leashes on the scale of weirdness.
In any case, I am beginning to see that I have learned something from all of this. For the first time, I am learning what it means to love someone/something. I am understanding, to a degree, what it means to be selfless. All of this from I little brown lop-eared bunny, who knew? When I arrived in Seattle, with less the $500, all I could think of was that I had to find a job fast, so that I could by Lily's medicine and pay for her monthly vet visits. She has helped me so much, even though I have probably yelled at her too much and not been patient enough at times. You know what, I love that little bunny, and I'm not afraid to say it anymore. Hell, I would even take her for a walk on a leash, I am not too proud....
Anyway, I miss her. Even though she has a really bad attitude and ignores me sometimes. When I say bad attitude, I mean, when she doesn't want to be bothered she grunts at me-rabbits aren't really supposed to make noise. When I say she ignores me, I mean often, when I am talking to her or trying to coax her to me, she will simply look at me and then turn around with her back to me while I am talking to her, literally. I am telling you, she does this on purpose, as if to say: 'You must realize, silly woman, that I am not interested, even vaguely in what you are saying and I have no intention in complying with your wishes.' I'm telling you, she's very smart, she knows. She does things on purpose. She knows her name, although, I call her many things: Lilypad, Baby Girl, Little Girl, Pumpkin, Pumpkin-face. She particularly likes Baby Girl, I think. In fact, she may actually think that's her name, because for the first 6 months that I had her, I couldn't figure out what to call her, so I called her Baby Girl or just plain old Girl. She knows the word no, God knows she's heard it enough. Sometimes, I talk to her in French and she likes the sound of it, she is my lapinette. I don't have any framed pictures of her though. Just before I left the Chi (Chicago) I took the first picture ever of her.
She is also sick. She has abscesses in her mouth that she will probably die from eventually. She needs injections of penicillin every other day and will continue to need them for the rest of her life. So, I am worried, because although she is being well taken care of now, I have left her. I feel that I am the one who should be doing those things for her now. When I returned from Paris 3 months ago, she was very sick. She was close to death and no one seemed to notice, it seems, that I came back just in time. Learning of her illness was difficult and even moreso when I learned that I had to give her shots. It took so long to feel comfortable doing it and it really was emotionally draining at first. I wondered if she could possibly have a good life when she have to go through this for the rest of it.
I left her. I feel terribly guilty, even though I feel that I didn't have a choice. Before moving, I lied down on the floor and explained everything to her. Through tears, I even told her about the problems with my boy. After I finished, she hopped over to me and nudged my ear with her twitchy little nose. I think she understood. Okay, maybe not, but it felt pretty good to have her acknowledge me. These days, she is the thing that has kept me going. I have been feeling quite sad about my boy. Knowing that it is all over now is difficult and she keeps me focused. I have to move, find my own place so I can go back to Illinois and get her. I think she will like it her, I was considering getting her one of those rabbit leashes (seriously, they make them), so I can take her to the park here. She would love it. But I have to think about that one, bunnies on leashes could rank up there with cats on leashes on the scale of weirdness.
In any case, I am beginning to see that I have learned something from all of this. For the first time, I am learning what it means to love someone/something. I am understanding, to a degree, what it means to be selfless. All of this from I little brown lop-eared bunny, who knew? When I arrived in Seattle, with less the $500, all I could think of was that I had to find a job fast, so that I could by Lily's medicine and pay for her monthly vet visits. She has helped me so much, even though I have probably yelled at her too much and not been patient enough at times. You know what, I love that little bunny, and I'm not afraid to say it anymore. Hell, I would even take her for a walk on a leash, I am not too proud....
Friday, May 13, 2005
Blackwash
A couple of days ago, I heard the original verson of "Hello, it's me" by Todd Rundgren. for the first time Previously, I'd only known the version of the song as interpreted by the Isley Brothers. I'm proud to say that I'd always known that it was not the orignal, however. But, all I can say about Todd Rundgren's version is ----- CORNY!!!
This song, which, in the hands of the Isley Brothers becomes an almost anti-beautiful ballad, a sort of ode to a lover filled with yearning, regret, and touching sincerity, is more of a 1970s ABC Monday-night movie kind of theme song chez Rundgren. Amazing. Perhaps this is a reflection of the '1970s-ness' of it all, the time when Rundgren's original version (RV from now on) was recorded and released. But the catch is, the Isley's version (IV) is also a product of the 1970s. In fact, both versions were released in 1974, which refutes the theory I was going to propose, that the IV was perhaps recorded in the mid to late 1980s. Perhaps, it has more to do with the fact that the RV is not even remotely influenced by R & B, not it a direct sense, that is. I guess what I'm saying is that it sounds, well, very white. There's just no other way to describe it. Not that this is a bad thing.
For a girl who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s in Chicago listening to the old WBMX and WGCI, my musical palate was shapted by the likes of the Isley Brothers, The Spinners, Marvin Gaye and later people like Teena Marie, Debarge, and Prince. My father was also a jazz fanatic and I spent many a rainy Saturday being forced to listen to old blues recordings by artists like Blind Lemon Jefferson (for god's sake), B.B. King and countless others. However, I also love Rock and Roll. Okay, Led Zepplin, a little Black Sabbath for good measure, the Stones, Cream, Jimi Hendrix....
As such, I consider myself an 'equal opportunity' kind of girl when it comes to music (and most other things in my life) but there is a whole, let's call it genre that I just can't wrap my head around, I feel about it the way most people feel about Country music. Artists like the Doors, the Grateful Dead, the Beach Boys, Janis Joplin (although I recognize her brilliance), I'm just not feeling any of it. I've tried. What makes me love the others, I just don't know. The thing is, when I hear the Doors, the Grateful Dead, the Beach Boys, I cringe, I can't take it, I must immediately change the station, completely eradicate the source of the offense. This is no exaggeration. I don't know much of Todd Rundgren's music, but it sounded dangerously close to this particular group of artists that causes me so much music listening pain.
I guess what I am really talking about here, what hearing Rundgren's version of the song made me think of is the whole idea of black artists remaking the work of white artists, and why it doesn't really happen too regularly, as far as I can think of. Although, the Isley Brothers did so at at least one other time with Summer Breeze, which also turned out to be much cooler than the original, in my opinion. We just don't see as much of this. From music to slang to styles of dress, pop cultural/musical trends tend to originate, harder-edged, within the black community and end up whitewashed (no pun intended here) , slicker when they become mainstream, more palatable, to the majority.
It seems to be a common pattern though, in the reverse. It is a commonly known fact about the early (and maybe current too, for that matter) history of popular music that white artists generally usurped the style and work of black artists, made it their own, and benefited by reaping great profits, none of which were shared by those innovative black artists. But this is a subject for another blog entry at another time.
This also makes me think about how slang changes as it becomes adopted by different groups. I was riding the #18 bus into downtown Seattle the other day when I overheard a guy on his cell phone talking to his friend about possible plans for the evening. He ended by asking his friend if he wanted to join him by saying: "Are you down to go..." Anyone in the know is aware that the correct usage would never include the final infinitive. You would never say "Are you down to go..." you would just say 'are you down?' the rest is implied, but when the slang is co-opted, it morphs into something a bit different with different rules. Take the whole -izzle craze prompted by Snoop (sigh). When this once pig latin-esque dialect once used by gang members as a way to communicate secretively became mainstream, the D-O-double-G conceded that it was time to retire the -izzle. But even this 'language' was derived from the 1980 R & B hit by Frankie Smith, "Double Dutch Bus". But here, I digress even further......
Hey, I could go on and on with this one, but do I want to? Not particularly, it's late and I just got home from a long night of waiting tables. I do think, though, that if you have a chance to give a listen to both versions, you should. And hey, let me know what you think.
Todd Rundgren's version
Isley Brothers version
***By the way, everyone should own the album Love Songs by the Isley Brothers, the link above takes you to it on Amazon.com***
This song, which, in the hands of the Isley Brothers becomes an almost anti-beautiful ballad, a sort of ode to a lover filled with yearning, regret, and touching sincerity, is more of a 1970s ABC Monday-night movie kind of theme song chez Rundgren. Amazing. Perhaps this is a reflection of the '1970s-ness' of it all, the time when Rundgren's original version (RV from now on) was recorded and released. But the catch is, the Isley's version (IV) is also a product of the 1970s. In fact, both versions were released in 1974, which refutes the theory I was going to propose, that the IV was perhaps recorded in the mid to late 1980s. Perhaps, it has more to do with the fact that the RV is not even remotely influenced by R & B, not it a direct sense, that is. I guess what I'm saying is that it sounds, well, very white. There's just no other way to describe it. Not that this is a bad thing.
For a girl who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s in Chicago listening to the old WBMX and WGCI, my musical palate was shapted by the likes of the Isley Brothers, The Spinners, Marvin Gaye and later people like Teena Marie, Debarge, and Prince. My father was also a jazz fanatic and I spent many a rainy Saturday being forced to listen to old blues recordings by artists like Blind Lemon Jefferson (for god's sake), B.B. King and countless others. However, I also love Rock and Roll. Okay, Led Zepplin, a little Black Sabbath for good measure, the Stones, Cream, Jimi Hendrix....
As such, I consider myself an 'equal opportunity' kind of girl when it comes to music (and most other things in my life) but there is a whole, let's call it genre that I just can't wrap my head around, I feel about it the way most people feel about Country music. Artists like the Doors, the Grateful Dead, the Beach Boys, Janis Joplin (although I recognize her brilliance), I'm just not feeling any of it. I've tried. What makes me love the others, I just don't know. The thing is, when I hear the Doors, the Grateful Dead, the Beach Boys, I cringe, I can't take it, I must immediately change the station, completely eradicate the source of the offense. This is no exaggeration. I don't know much of Todd Rundgren's music, but it sounded dangerously close to this particular group of artists that causes me so much music listening pain.
I guess what I am really talking about here, what hearing Rundgren's version of the song made me think of is the whole idea of black artists remaking the work of white artists, and why it doesn't really happen too regularly, as far as I can think of. Although, the Isley Brothers did so at at least one other time with Summer Breeze, which also turned out to be much cooler than the original, in my opinion. We just don't see as much of this. From music to slang to styles of dress, pop cultural/musical trends tend to originate, harder-edged, within the black community and end up whitewashed (no pun intended here) , slicker when they become mainstream, more palatable, to the majority.
It seems to be a common pattern though, in the reverse. It is a commonly known fact about the early (and maybe current too, for that matter) history of popular music that white artists generally usurped the style and work of black artists, made it their own, and benefited by reaping great profits, none of which were shared by those innovative black artists. But this is a subject for another blog entry at another time.
This also makes me think about how slang changes as it becomes adopted by different groups. I was riding the #18 bus into downtown Seattle the other day when I overheard a guy on his cell phone talking to his friend about possible plans for the evening. He ended by asking his friend if he wanted to join him by saying: "Are you down to go..." Anyone in the know is aware that the correct usage would never include the final infinitive. You would never say "Are you down to go..." you would just say 'are you down?' the rest is implied, but when the slang is co-opted, it morphs into something a bit different with different rules. Take the whole -izzle craze prompted by Snoop (sigh). When this once pig latin-esque dialect once used by gang members as a way to communicate secretively became mainstream, the D-O-double-G conceded that it was time to retire the -izzle. But even this 'language' was derived from the 1980 R & B hit by Frankie Smith, "Double Dutch Bus". But here, I digress even further......
Hey, I could go on and on with this one, but do I want to? Not particularly, it's late and I just got home from a long night of waiting tables. I do think, though, that if you have a chance to give a listen to both versions, you should. And hey, let me know what you think.
Todd Rundgren's version
Isley Brothers version
***By the way, everyone should own the album Love Songs by the Isley Brothers, the link above takes you to it on Amazon.com***
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Letter to a 'nomad'
To whom it may concern,
You are not a nomad. A nomad moves purposefully, toward something, he does not move away from his destination in flight.
Now you are spending all of this time sitting around on the couch, smoking too much, watching too much bad T.V., not showering, FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF. You have become a shell of the man you once believed yourself to be. A shell of the man I once knew. And why? Because you are refusing to face the hard truth that you are the cause of the problems in your life. You swam out into the middle of the lake and now you have to decide whether you're going to continue to the other side through the storm or whether you're going to turn around and head back to shore like all the times before.
Everything you've hoped for has eroded. Your dreams have crumbled; each time you've gotten close to success or happiness you've run away from it, or quit, or even worse, ruined it with an irrationality that suggests you don't believe you deserve the shining life and privilege you've always told me you envision for yourself. You have spent all of this time sabotaging yourself without knowing it, but it is plain to see and secretly, I think, you do know. You didn't move because there was something beyond the horizon calling you, (well, maybe the first time), you moved because there was something deeper in all those places tugging at you to stay. It seems that all along you've feared the possibility of getting all you've dreamed of in this life....
You are not a nomad. Nomads move because they have no choice, no suitable place to put down roots. They move because to survive, they must follow and care for what sustains them. Nomads cherish this sustenance because they know that it may not last always.
It seems that you have not determined what will sustain you. Maybe it's that you're afraid of what nourishes your soul. One would think that you've unequivocally rejected this nourishment, although you seem unable to push your chair away from the table entirely. Why are you unable to accept sustenance? While some search and search and never find, leaving this life malnourished, yours has come right to your doorstep many times before.
You are not a nomad. Nomads must prepare themselves for everything, they must stay the course in the face of confusion and despair. They accept the power and unpredictability of their surroundings and live their lives within that context, taking nothing for granted.
You've been sitting for years avoiding the real journey. Are you afraid? Ashamed? No matter. The past is the past but now, you have to make a decision. The stakes are higher than ever before. Don't forget that you have created this. You are afraid that the next leg of your journey will be nothing different than you've had before. Without preparation, even the desert will teem with all of the demons you seek to escape. They are in you and no one else.
You are not a nomad.
The possibilities are endless for you, if you admit that you make life happen, if you see life as a journey punctuated alternately by struggles and joy. You are owed nothing, no, not even you. You cannot continue to wait for others to recognize your brilliance and bestow upon you what you feel you deserve. The face that you present to the world matters less than the one you see in mirror or the one you present to those closest to you. My greatest hope is that you finally accept this. Above all it is you who must recognize that all you need is right in front of you. If you do, all that you want will finally come. Will your desert be the urban skyline of a new city or confines of your mind or the vast, stark beauty of the Sahara's sandy expanse? I don't know. Simplicity comes from within. Maybe someday you will see....
With great love and concern,
You are not a nomad. A nomad moves purposefully, toward something, he does not move away from his destination in flight.
Now you are spending all of this time sitting around on the couch, smoking too much, watching too much bad T.V., not showering, FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF. You have become a shell of the man you once believed yourself to be. A shell of the man I once knew. And why? Because you are refusing to face the hard truth that you are the cause of the problems in your life. You swam out into the middle of the lake and now you have to decide whether you're going to continue to the other side through the storm or whether you're going to turn around and head back to shore like all the times before.
Everything you've hoped for has eroded. Your dreams have crumbled; each time you've gotten close to success or happiness you've run away from it, or quit, or even worse, ruined it with an irrationality that suggests you don't believe you deserve the shining life and privilege you've always told me you envision for yourself. You have spent all of this time sabotaging yourself without knowing it, but it is plain to see and secretly, I think, you do know. You didn't move because there was something beyond the horizon calling you, (well, maybe the first time), you moved because there was something deeper in all those places tugging at you to stay. It seems that all along you've feared the possibility of getting all you've dreamed of in this life....
You are not a nomad. Nomads move because they have no choice, no suitable place to put down roots. They move because to survive, they must follow and care for what sustains them. Nomads cherish this sustenance because they know that it may not last always.
It seems that you have not determined what will sustain you. Maybe it's that you're afraid of what nourishes your soul. One would think that you've unequivocally rejected this nourishment, although you seem unable to push your chair away from the table entirely. Why are you unable to accept sustenance? While some search and search and never find, leaving this life malnourished, yours has come right to your doorstep many times before.
You are not a nomad. Nomads must prepare themselves for everything, they must stay the course in the face of confusion and despair. They accept the power and unpredictability of their surroundings and live their lives within that context, taking nothing for granted.
You've been sitting for years avoiding the real journey. Are you afraid? Ashamed? No matter. The past is the past but now, you have to make a decision. The stakes are higher than ever before. Don't forget that you have created this. You are afraid that the next leg of your journey will be nothing different than you've had before. Without preparation, even the desert will teem with all of the demons you seek to escape. They are in you and no one else.
You are not a nomad.
The possibilities are endless for you, if you admit that you make life happen, if you see life as a journey punctuated alternately by struggles and joy. You are owed nothing, no, not even you. You cannot continue to wait for others to recognize your brilliance and bestow upon you what you feel you deserve. The face that you present to the world matters less than the one you see in mirror or the one you present to those closest to you. My greatest hope is that you finally accept this. Above all it is you who must recognize that all you need is right in front of you. If you do, all that you want will finally come. Will your desert be the urban skyline of a new city or confines of your mind or the vast, stark beauty of the Sahara's sandy expanse? I don't know. Simplicity comes from within. Maybe someday you will see....
With great love and concern,
Monday, May 02, 2005
Growing pains
It may be a good idea to preface all of this by saying that I do not have casual friends, really. I tend to go for the gusto in my friendships, not wasting time on relationships with people I don't feel have the potential for a lasting strong bond. Yes, I have acquaintances, but that's not what I'm talking about here. Now, I recently did something that I never do and that is completely ignore someone who'd responded to an email I sent, I mean I actually, put the response in the trash and hit delete without reading it.
It felt so liberating, because it stemmed from a problem that I've had with our friendship that I've been trying to resolve for a long time. It felt good. After years of being a staunch proponent of facing an issue head on, I can see now, why people do this, ignore their problems. It's pretty easy to just ignore people, blow things off. Although over time I'm sure it gets harder and the stakes get higher. Of course, it didn't end there, it never does with me. I proceeded to disect my relationship with this person for the umpteenth time. This I am sure will make me sound like a needy basket case, and let's face it, sometimes I can be, but I am a Scorpio too, so, I'll attribute it to that. Also, I'm not working and, well, let me get on with it... fortunately, the phone rang....
It turned out to be a good friend of mine who cheered me up immensely, our talk went something like this:
Him: "How are things?"
Me: "Fine, I guess."
sniffling quietly to try and hide the rather obvious fact that I'd been crying seconds before the phone rang
Him: "What's up, girl? YOU are not fine..."
Me: "Well, I'm just a little frustrated with a few people in my life."
At this point I proceeded to tell him about some of the things that recently happened, including but not limited to recent news from a friend of 13 years who had a baby in February and just informed me 2 weeks ago. In the end, my friend, who I cherish, told me in fairly uncertain terms: "Rachel, it sounds like you need to pull out that address book and what? LIQUIDATE!!"
He is right and frankly, there are more than a few names that need the old once over with a big fat pink diamond eraser (I always update my address in pencil). It is a healthy thing to evaluate your relationships and send certains packing from whence they came from time to time. I think that sometimes we hold on to people far too long, far too often, and for reasons that are far too sentimental or maybe even irrational. I am not talking about people you lose touch with temporarily because you both get busy or because some other issues have come up. With them, there is no awkwardness or uncertainty. There are no mixed feelings, these temporary lapses don't matter because with these people you are sure. I'm talking about those others, your relationships with them may have you sitting on the fence. Maybe you've just been avoiding the inevitability of removing them from your life. Or maybe you're just not sure you're being fair or giving them the benefit of the doubt.
I've come up with a litmus test of sorts for initiating this process and avoiding such sentimentality in evaluating our relationships. If any of the following scenarios seem familiar to you, you too may need to liquidate....
So after my conversation with my friend, I realize that here I am three weeks after a major move and the people I would cite first as my friends, if someone were to ask, are precisely the ones who have made not made much of an attempt to check to see what's going on in my life. Others, I have undervalued and will be eternally grateful for their support. But please, don't get me wrong, I am not bitter or angry, at least not anymore. I've moved through that and I am currently at the 'acceptance-stage' of it all. In the end I can only change me, not anyone else.
In the past, you could say that I was a sort of Sisyphus of relationships, pushing the rock of my lofty relationship/friendship expectations up that hill and never really realizing that under the circumstances of my behavior, issues, hang-ups and their behavior, issues, and hang-ups, it could really do nothing more than come rolling back down. To be sure, I have not been the greatest of friends all of the time. But I hope people do say that somehow I have enriched their lives in some way. Sometimes, it's just the right time to move on, with someone or without them, or in a very different way than you moved with them before. The people we spend our time with really are a reflection of who we are and where we're at in our lives and we all need to make sure that we choose carefully so that we don't find ourselves liquidating too often.
It felt so liberating, because it stemmed from a problem that I've had with our friendship that I've been trying to resolve for a long time. It felt good. After years of being a staunch proponent of facing an issue head on, I can see now, why people do this, ignore their problems. It's pretty easy to just ignore people, blow things off. Although over time I'm sure it gets harder and the stakes get higher. Of course, it didn't end there, it never does with me. I proceeded to disect my relationship with this person for the umpteenth time. This I am sure will make me sound like a needy basket case, and let's face it, sometimes I can be, but I am a Scorpio too, so, I'll attribute it to that. Also, I'm not working and, well, let me get on with it... fortunately, the phone rang....
It turned out to be a good friend of mine who cheered me up immensely, our talk went something like this:
Him: "How are things?"
Me: "Fine, I guess."
sniffling quietly to try and hide the rather obvious fact that I'd been crying seconds before the phone rang
Him: "What's up, girl? YOU are not fine..."
Me: "Well, I'm just a little frustrated with a few people in my life."
At this point I proceeded to tell him about some of the things that recently happened, including but not limited to recent news from a friend of 13 years who had a baby in February and just informed me 2 weeks ago. In the end, my friend, who I cherish, told me in fairly uncertain terms: "Rachel, it sounds like you need to pull out that address book and what? LIQUIDATE!!"
He is right and frankly, there are more than a few names that need the old once over with a big fat pink diamond eraser (I always update my address in pencil). It is a healthy thing to evaluate your relationships and send certains packing from whence they came from time to time. I think that sometimes we hold on to people far too long, far too often, and for reasons that are far too sentimental or maybe even irrational. I am not talking about people you lose touch with temporarily because you both get busy or because some other issues have come up. With them, there is no awkwardness or uncertainty. There are no mixed feelings, these temporary lapses don't matter because with these people you are sure. I'm talking about those others, your relationships with them may have you sitting on the fence. Maybe you've just been avoiding the inevitability of removing them from your life. Or maybe you're just not sure you're being fair or giving them the benefit of the doubt.
I've come up with a litmus test of sorts for initiating this process and avoiding such sentimentality in evaluating our relationships. If any of the following scenarios seem familiar to you, you too may need to liquidate....
- After breaking up with the last of 3 serial boyfriends, your friend
a) decides that all she wants to do is see you and spend some time with you, she's really missed you.
b) calls and leaves messages incessantly offering to take you to lunch or a movie, she's really bored.
c) gets mad when you talk to her and don't seem quite as excited about her as you used to be.
(note: the serial dating started approximately 2 years ago) - You make plans with a friend and each time she perpetually
a) arrives late.
b) doesn't show up and doesn't call.
c) calls to say she will be late and doesn't show up.
d) makes plans with 2 other people within an hour of the time you're supposed to get together, informing you that you'll have "...plenty of time to catch up."
(note: you haven't seen her in 6 months) - You call/email your friend and leave a message, she
a) doesn't call you back
b) says she didn't get the message. She lives alone.
c) says she doesn't have an answering machine and hasn't in 2 years.
d) talks to you when you call her back a week later. When asked about it she says, "Yeah, you mean the message last Tuesday about your grandmother being sick, I got it..." - Your friend is pregnant/has a baby/gets engaged/gets married/moves in with someone and doesn't call to tell you immediately. Immediately meaning well, immediately.
- Your friend offers to help you move/pack/drive you to the airport and
a) arrives late and complains about the hard work, or does nothing.
b) doesn't show up and doesn't call.
c) calls to say she will be late and doesn't show up.
d) runs into you 2 weeks later at a restaurant and doesn't mention the incident at all. - You're in bed with the flu/recovering from major or minor surgery/depressed and your friend has offered to help she
a) tells you're a malcontent and you should buck up and get over it.
b) tells you that she has to leave, you're really bringing her down.
c) comes over, messes up the kitchen making snacks for herself, watches the latest episode of Cribs then looks at her watch, informing you that she wants make it out on road before rush hour starts. It's saturday....
d) doesn't show up. - You're stranded on the side of the road/in a foreign country/at a restaurant with a date who tells you he's a No Limit Soldier, you frantically call your friend and she...
a) asks if you can call back later, she's watching Cribs.
b) tells you that you shouldn't have gone anyway and that she has to go, she's watching Cribs.
c) screens her calls and lets her voicemail pick up. She finally calls 3 days later. Hey, there was a Cribs marathon on MTV that weekend.
d) never calls and doesn't mention having received your call when you finally talk to her, justifies this by saying, "Girl, you know I never check my messages."
***Please note that the dynamic of these scenarios are not immutable, male friends, boyfriends, girlfriends or family members can easily replace the women referenced above.***
In the past, you could say that I was a sort of Sisyphus of relationships, pushing the rock of my lofty relationship/friendship expectations up that hill and never really realizing that under the circumstances of my behavior, issues, hang-ups and their behavior, issues, and hang-ups, it could really do nothing more than come rolling back down. To be sure, I have not been the greatest of friends all of the time. But I hope people do say that somehow I have enriched their lives in some way. Sometimes, it's just the right time to move on, with someone or without them, or in a very different way than you moved with them before. The people we spend our time with really are a reflection of who we are and where we're at in our lives and we all need to make sure that we choose carefully so that we don't find ourselves liquidating too often.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Cupcake Royale: a dialectic of love?
Last night, I discovered what I can say when someone asks me why I moved to Seattle. And that, my friends, is Cupcake Royale. It is a little cafe that sells only--sit down for this one--CUPCAKES!!! I could scarcely believe it. There are even two locations. That alone could be enough to draw most of the people I know to this fair city.
Cupcakes are the perfect treat. They have their own little, neat packaging and when done correctly, as they are at CR, you are left hoping that they could somehow contain the nutritional value of quinoa, so you could eat them guilt-free for every meal and have all of your nutritional needs met. Additionally, cupcakes can offer endless variety in flavoring, color, and decoration, and CR comes through on that too. There are your standards: chocolate or vanilla cake frosted with either chocolate or vanilla buttercream. The vanilla buttercream comes in pretty colors: lavender, pink, and baby blue, with or without decorations. Then, there are the the specialty flavors, chocolate or vanilla cake with peppermint icing, lemon cake with lemon icing (complete with a lemon drop for decoration), or chocolate cake with orange icing. Variety without being too overwhelming that is the key, if only our lives and loves could be this way....
Lovers should be like the cupcakes at Cupcake Royale and our love affairs like the process of eating them. We spot our coveted one in the glass display case where we see a cautionary note: 'please don't scare the cupcakes by banging on the glass'. Of course we choose it for it's inticing beauty and imagined goodness. We begin to peel away the paper and decide how we will partake of this delectable treat. Will we bite into the pint-sized cake with wild abandon? Or maybe we will rip off the bottom, eating it first and saving the creamy, sweet icing and slightly crunchy top for last, savoring every bite. Maybe we'll go straight for the icing and forget the cake altogether, but in the end, how could you forget the cake? The combination of the two compliment each other so perfectly.
Could the folks at CR, like Roland Barthes write a lover's discourse* of sorts? Well, maybe not a discourse, but at least a friendly how-to guide. The Cupcake Royale Guide to Love, or something like that. Of course, the details would need to be worked out, and I'm no philosopher, but it could be a great success. The proposed title is not too original I know, but the important part would be this cupcake philosophy of love (or life, it could be utilitarian and applied to multiple situations), would be simple and straightforward and could help guide it's adherants to the ultimate payoff--a meaningful love affair, satisfying every step of the way, much like the sweet little morsels of goodness themselves...
I am so obsessed with love these days because I am attempting to fall out of it. The realization came suddenly after many years of lying in wait, only to overtake me at the wrong time. But was it the wrong time? When love entered the already complex equation of my personal quest, a level-headed German friend, a fabulous girl, told me in the lilted accent of her English, "It's all so exciting, just realize, it might not happen now...maybe one month, maybe one year, maybe not ever, but you have to see..." She was right, of course. But I didn't have Cupcake Royale then, I didn't have this new philosophy to flesh out to guide me in my next foray into matters of the heart.....
*don't be confused, this is not the entire Lover's Discourse as the author of this site implies.
Cupcakes are the perfect treat. They have their own little, neat packaging and when done correctly, as they are at CR, you are left hoping that they could somehow contain the nutritional value of quinoa, so you could eat them guilt-free for every meal and have all of your nutritional needs met. Additionally, cupcakes can offer endless variety in flavoring, color, and decoration, and CR comes through on that too. There are your standards: chocolate or vanilla cake frosted with either chocolate or vanilla buttercream. The vanilla buttercream comes in pretty colors: lavender, pink, and baby blue, with or without decorations. Then, there are the the specialty flavors, chocolate or vanilla cake with peppermint icing, lemon cake with lemon icing (complete with a lemon drop for decoration), or chocolate cake with orange icing. Variety without being too overwhelming that is the key, if only our lives and loves could be this way....
Lovers should be like the cupcakes at Cupcake Royale and our love affairs like the process of eating them. We spot our coveted one in the glass display case where we see a cautionary note: 'please don't scare the cupcakes by banging on the glass'. Of course we choose it for it's inticing beauty and imagined goodness. We begin to peel away the paper and decide how we will partake of this delectable treat. Will we bite into the pint-sized cake with wild abandon? Or maybe we will rip off the bottom, eating it first and saving the creamy, sweet icing and slightly crunchy top for last, savoring every bite. Maybe we'll go straight for the icing and forget the cake altogether, but in the end, how could you forget the cake? The combination of the two compliment each other so perfectly.
Could the folks at CR, like Roland Barthes write a lover's discourse* of sorts? Well, maybe not a discourse, but at least a friendly how-to guide. The Cupcake Royale Guide to Love, or something like that. Of course, the details would need to be worked out, and I'm no philosopher, but it could be a great success. The proposed title is not too original I know, but the important part would be this cupcake philosophy of love (or life, it could be utilitarian and applied to multiple situations), would be simple and straightforward and could help guide it's adherants to the ultimate payoff--a meaningful love affair, satisfying every step of the way, much like the sweet little morsels of goodness themselves...
I am so obsessed with love these days because I am attempting to fall out of it. The realization came suddenly after many years of lying in wait, only to overtake me at the wrong time. But was it the wrong time? When love entered the already complex equation of my personal quest, a level-headed German friend, a fabulous girl, told me in the lilted accent of her English, "It's all so exciting, just realize, it might not happen now...maybe one month, maybe one year, maybe not ever, but you have to see..." She was right, of course. But I didn't have Cupcake Royale then, I didn't have this new philosophy to flesh out to guide me in my next foray into matters of the heart.....
*don't be confused, this is not the entire Lover's Discourse as the author of this site implies.
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