poetic wax

I try to balance the spicy (queso, lacy undies, dealing with people who irritate me, red paint) and the soothing (ice cream, jeans, talking to my friends, blue paint). Try. Sometimes I fall too far in one direction or another. Sometimes.

Complex questions get raised, desires and hopes get questioned, all in the search for what I want. Because to question may not always have an answer, but to question knows that at least there is effort put into finding an answer.

Some things seem perfect. Some things seem unstable. And some things just are, no explaination. I are. I decide from moment to moment, day to day, what I would like to do and see happen, and plan accordingly. I notice it's windy outside, I decide not to wear a skirt. I notice I'm out of pink paint, I decide to work on another forgotton project. I notice I'm out of crackers for soup, I find something else for dinner. And yet, I know some things I want, and find ways to make them happen.

Goals. Finish degree. Start new business. Build book case. Get groceries. Go to yoga class. Oh, some are short term goals, some are long term. There really are a lot more. Just can't fit them all into one day.
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Ever notice that bananas left too long do not smell like banana nut bread, which smells good, but instead like, well, rotting, mushy bananas, which smells just a little bit funky.

strike that

emotions were explained. or lack of explained as words and explainations seemed to fail me when it came to expressing myself. thoughts and feelings were aired. no resolutions were found. how do you find answers to things you can't quite explain in the first place? well, in my case, I shed tears, I wipe my nose on my t-shirt because I'm too lazy to get up and go get a kleenex, and attempt to understand why I feel upset over talking about what we both feel. sigh. why it feels as if any decision, any resolution, weighs a ton, I don't know. I do know that once the weight is lifted, whatever is chosen will be easier because it won't be so heavy. too philosophical and too late now, to bed.

same song, second verse

Deja vu all over again. Or something like that.

How many ways can I express that I like attention? And that I like attention from the man I love. The hard part is that our schedules conflict in one way or another, either he's asleep when I get home, or I'm asleep when he has time. The resolution being? Calls when we can. Or when one of us remembers.

Meanwhile someone asked how my weekend went, I said we're going to try to work things out with time. This someone responds "If it was me I never would have let you go in the first place. What's he waiting for? Someone better to come along?" "Uhh, no. He just started his business, things are a little crazy right now, that's all." "But sharing your lives includes the tough stuff as well as the the good. And I think you would be the good part." (I'm taking this as a compliment. I think.)

Meanwhile the rock climber called, and while the conversation was not earth-shattering or entertaining, it did involve discussing welding and the mens ice skating in the Olympics, but he called to talk to me. And when I mentioned it to L, he mocked the rock climber, then threatened to dispose of him and hide his body. It is partially flattering that he feels jealous enough to joke about this, but I'd still rather have his attention than his jokes.

Sorry - I'm in a mood. I'm feeling better. Better enough to do homework today. Better enough to flirt and enjoy the attention. Better enough to work on a painting. Better enough to contemplate too many things that I probably should not be contemplating when I'm feeling contemplative.

As in why I look forward to the phone calls from L, why I like that he calls me "Princess", why his laugh makes me melt. As in why it feels not so good when he falls asleep and doesn't call me back, because then I feel like maybe I don't mean as much to him after all. As in why I feel like I'm a distraction, because he calls when he has time, he has his friends there, and his work does take a lot of time. As in last weekend was good, but we spent practically 24/3 together, and it had awkward moments, and our regular lives we talk once or twice (on rare occasions - three or four) times a day, and have our seperate lives. As in yeah I think we should be sharing the tough stuff as well as the good. As in yeah, I should be talking to him about this, but the phone tag has grown old.

So give me a break, I like knowing that someone is thinking about me. I'm vain like that. Just wish he would let me know it the same way other men do - by telling me.

I am afraid of myself

Or more precisely, I'm afraid of what I could be.

I am in mild pain. Mostly spasms now. Either I've gotten used to it or it really is going away. But leaving the emergency room the other night, after being told it wasn't appendicitis, the doctor who basically thought I was joking wrote me a prescription for antibiotics - even after the labs came back and said I had no infection - and a prescription for Vicodin.

Both pieces of paper are still sitting in my purse. One, because I don't want or need useless antibiotics. Two, because I'm afraid that if I take the Vicodin, I'll like it. I'm afraid I'll get addicted. I'm afraid I'll need it. I scare myself with these thoughts. I haven't been suicidal in years, but I'm afraid of having a bottle of pills around "just in case".

I know this is part of the reason I go so against the grain on so many things. Not just because I like to ruffle feathers (it is fun to do), and not just because I'm stubborn (I am fairly so), but because somewhere along my way I learned a lesson that I didn't like and now go to the extreme opposite. Which may not do me any better, I really should learn moderation on things like this, but it's how I reacted and where I ended up.

Somewhere, watching good friends have their stomachs pumped and spend weeks in re-hab and counseling, or reading the stories, or one-too-many crime tv shows or whatever, but somewhere along my way I got scared. And now I study the alternatives to drugs and surgery, and even more so - being written a prescription for antibiotics when there is no sign of an infection? - and know the benefits of meditation and breathing and de-stressing my life... and yet, the enticement to try, to fill that prescription just to try it out, just to see what it's like, is there.

That right there scares me. Do I have my own will power to continue to ignore that piece of paper that is in my name? My mom keeps a bottle of "see-you-in-three-days" muscle relaxers. For when she thinks she needs them. I don't think she's used one in a couple of years. I've smoked pot before, but that was more of a time standing still thing, and it was never a big deal to me. L told me a story about going skiing on Vicodin, and how you don't feel anything.

Maybe that's it. I feel all the time. I have to feel something. And while the pain may not be nice, may not be comfortable, it still is a feeling. A feeling to work through, get to the cause of, release somehow. Not to ignore. I am afraid of not feeling. I am afraid of not feeling anything, and quite possibly liking it, and (there I go again) afraid of becoming addicted to the not feeling feeling.

Wait. Can not feeling be a feeling?

If so, that's what scares me.

rain goggles

Thick rolling clouds bring the cool air through and reflect the lightning strikes. Rain follows the rumbles of thunder. Washes everything clean. Washes everything down. Knowing how parched the land is, knowing this is what we need, knowing the rain is welcome a thousand times over, this is good.

The world seems off-kilter a bit. Well, my world does. Strange patterns appear everywhere. Lines. Squares. Diamonds. Circles. Hearts. And that's just in playing solitare on the computer. Shapes in the flowers on my desk. Shapes in the book covers. Shapes in the splatters of paint. So it seems off-kilter, and yet it all coincides in harmony. Maybe I'm the one who's shifted and I'm just seeing this in a different perspective. Maybe the rain has changed my perspective too.

tender those memories, tender those thoughts

Monday's notes:

For everything except my memories - and the two pictures I took with my phone - this weekend was a dream.

Back to work and right back into the routine of answering phones, arranging reservations, and taking care of the customers. As well as dodging the nosy co-workers questions about my personal life. I'd still like to keep this to myself, this is not something I want to openly share. Thank goodness the nosy ones are vain enough that they are easily re-routed by getting them on their favorite subject - themselves.

So. Did I leave town for three short days or dream it all? Hmm. Two new photos on my phone. Of L. A bag of packed clothes under my desk. A program from "The Phantom Of The Opera" in my purse. And really sore in places that remind me it was not my imagination. And that i smell like sex and I'm pretty sure I took a shower this morning. I didn't want to leave this morning. Oh, so many hours ago now. Sleeping soundly until the alarm went off at 4.

There are always questions. I acknowledge this. I always have. So the questions here - the "What if?". Neither he nor I want to screw it up. I know I'm slightly commitment-phobic. I'll admit I've gotten better - come on - I've paid off and kept my car for seven years now, a car that I hesitated to get because it was a FIVE year payment plan. I have a commitment to work - at least till May. So can I commit to him? Part of me is scared at that thought. The other part is calm and assures me that that is where I'm supposed to be.

But still....? Can it work? I don't know. I know that I'm alot more open to trying now. Did that make sense? I think I mean that having that time apart - no matter that it hurt or was easy or tough or whatever - it helped me to be more accepting of my needs, helped me be more assertive with my wants, and helped me be more aware of that factor of sharing my life is not to lose myself but to gain another perspective.

I still want answers of course. I want to say "OK, I'll move on this day. I'll see if we're compatible for longer than a few days at a time." Yeah. If it doesn't work out I can always come back. But I don't want to. I don't want that feeling as a fallback.

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Tuesday's notes

Recap to remember as much as I can.
Friday - Turbulence getting there. Unsettled feeling while looking for him. Such relief and thrill at wrapping our arms around each other. Snow flurries, dancing around the truck as we drive through areas of hills and trees. Quaint house, one you have to duck under the slanted walls in the upstairs rooms. No power due to the wind storms. Curl up and raise the questions. They had work to do, I sat in the truck and read and dozed. Then meet friends for dinner. Fun conversations, great food (perfect prime rib), good banter and good feelings. Decide to find a hotel, because I'm not prepared to camp out, and there's no telling when the power will come back. Rolling around in bed, lathering up in the shower, sleeping with each other, middle-of-the-night pouncing... yeah.

Saturday - Sleep till the maid wakes me up. Dress and L gets back from working. We go find food, there's actually white layers on the ground - I can see my footprints! He does post office stuff. I get a pedicure. We go back home, he starts dinner, and we curl up on the couch. He sleeps, I read till I fall asleep too, and end up drooling on his head. He cooks. I rinse the broccoli and drink the wine. Delicious dinner. We get dressed. I put on the black boustier, knowing that I don't need it with this dress, but just to see his face when I take it off later. Beautiful theatre. Wonderful show, so much better than I imagined. Cold night air as we make a mad dash to the truck. Back home, it's warm. Undressing. Yes, the underclothes turn him on as much as me. Touching. Feeling. Sex. Oh. My. God. So down and dirty, and oh so good.

Sunday - Sleep till whenever. Shower. Head to a sweet little tea shop and eat lunch and savor the tea. Then a coffee shop so the boys can get caffeine. And drive all over, looking at downed power lines, admiring the architecture on the houses and buildings. Short debate on finding a bar or a bookstore, the bookstore won. Picked up some new reads. Then head to pick up pizza - and a few movies, and head home to sit and eat and watch. To bed, I love his body, I massaged his back. I told him how happy I am with him, and why I love him. More down and dirty sex, loud and sweaty, exhausting. Roll over and sleep till the alarm hits at 4am.

Monday - Early drive to the airport, quiet. Me not wanting to let go again, not wanting to cry again when we said goodbye. Plane rides, delays. Land an hour late and make a mad dash to work. Long day.

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Wednesday's notes

Oh so not feeling well. Started with an UTI - from all that really good down and dirty sex, and from not peeing afterwards. Now it seems centralized and feels like it's either kidney or appendix. Not thrilled at either prospect really. But I'm hungry now. The fever is gone, and I want food. But I'm afraid to eat just yet.

I miss him. I wish he was here. I wish I was there. Soon enough, when we get our lives sorted out. Then again, we said that last time.

cold wx & warm bodies

Cold. Cold crisp air. Beautiful. So this is what snow flurries look like. So this is what snow looks like when it actually sticks. So this is what trees are. So these are hills. So this is being wrapped in the arms of someone I love.

So the throwing up part? That would have happened because of the turbulence on the flight. The seeing him again? That was like wrapping my arms around the most comforting feeling in the world.

I don't want to go back. He's not there. But I will. Work commitments that I agreed to when they hired me. But...

But we talked about it. Briefly. Agreed we're both scared of what may happen. He mentioned taking it slow. I said "No guts, no glory." We will probably take it slow. Because we're both scared.

This feels good. He feels comfortable. He feels right. I feel right. And this scares me. It scares me, but I don't want anything else. Is that possible?

Yes. I think it is.

Early flight. Work tomorrow. Back to my current life. Sigh. I at least want to take the pizza with me. I'll come back for him.

anxiety and fish faces

Power out this am. No alarm. No internet to pay bills with.
Paying bills now. Packed. I think.
Anxious. Nervous. Excited.

Secure in knowing this trip is the right thing to do no matter what happens.

Will I see him and be shy?
Will I see him and throw my arms around him?

The rock climber was in today, we talked a bit. Reminded me that life will often throw options at you when you think you know what you want but aren't entirely sure and are trying to make a choice. And so I continue to question myself further over not "What is right for me?" but "What do I want?", or more precisely, "Who do I want?" Who. Damn. Damn. Damn. I keep thinking I know, then all of a sudden I'm unsure again.

No. I know. At least I think I do. But. What if we don't work out after all?

Then at least I'll know.

It's all learning someone new again. Even L, whom I know, but am learning all over again. The intimidation of see if two people are compatible is awkward of course, but how will it be with someone that things didn't quite work with the first time?

Sigh. I really need to take a nap. The flight leaves at 5:30 am. Did I get everything I might need? I guess I'll see when I leave.

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On a lighter note - I couldn't be more proud than when A told me that WildChild has learned to make a fish face! That's what I was teaching him last week at lunch, and he's been trying it out and he got it!

Ahhh... what a legacy. Teaching small children how to stick out their tongues and do fish faces. I am proud!

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So. The weekend is here. By 2:09 Eastern time, I'll be in Albany. Please let me not throw up!

rock n roll

higher beats, thrumming through the stereo
spinning, rotating, dancing
vision blurs, body moves
louder and louder
feeling every beat
moving all around

take a hike

Somewhere inside are the hidden wishes. Various forms of those ideals sift through and remind of what could be.

What could be? Do tell.

Tell of when the hopes were real. Tell of when the desires formed every waking thought and drove every action. When there was a dream to succeed at something, anything, that one thing that makes you happy, and you followed it.

Push, pursue, succeed, dream, follow... And then get distracted by the daily. Distracted by the standards of society, the focus shifts to the doing and not the be-ing. Meander off that path of your own, that path that is yours only, and you get distracted by what lies along the sidelines. Sure, those trees are pretty, but a brief pause is all that is needed.

Pardon the depth, didn't mean to drown there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My focus changes all the time. Like I really think I know what I'm going to do, like I really think I know where I'm going next. I've gotten jaded about some things, just from the "been there, done that" point of view of actually being there and doing that. And yet there seems to be so much more out there to try, to dabble in, to accomplish.

I've always wanted to go hang gliding. I've always wanted to salsa dance. I've always wanted to travel to Italy. I'd still like to have a gallery/workshop. And there are a handful of things that I've thought about that I think I'd still like to try if I got the chance. Like have a bookstore, like go sailing, like scuba diving, like skiing, like go to Hawaii (where I could probably do the sailing and scuba diving), like to learn glassblowing, like to write a book (of some sort), etc.. Anyway, you get the idea.

So - the idea that sprang up several weeks ago, has been festering. Wait, festering has a negative connotation. Hmm, growing? Or germinating? Or developing? Yeah, one of those sounds better. Ohh-ohh! Processing! No, wait, I do that all the time anyway. So, whatever - this idea for recording stories, is one I really think I want to see happen, in one way or another. You know, to put on that list of things I'd really like to do.

This path I'm on, is varied and sometimes confusing (ha! sometimes?), but it really is mine.

hold me, touch me

I let my hands roam my body.
I explore.
I feel the muscle tension in my neck.
I press down on my shoulders.
I tap along my arms.
I measure the distance between my nipples.
I caress my breasts.
I slide down my stomach.
I wrap around my waist.
I slide over my hips.
I walk down my thighs.
I shift my knees.
I flex my calves.
I rub my heels and feet.
I explore.

I stand in front of the mirror and just look.
I'm still not happy with my hair.
I have pimples.
I ought to trim my bikini line.
I shouldn't let it get so unruly.
I think I'll get another tattoo, but where?
I like my long legs.
I like my flat belly.
I don't like my bony shoulders and arms.
I really do have small breasts.
I like my eyes.
I stand and admire.

I feel naked.
I am naked.
I want to wrap up in a blanket.
I want to be cozy.
I am comfortable.
I am alone.
I'm wrapped up, naked and comfortable.
I'm cozy.

I think I'll paint my toenails.
I think I'll do laundry tomorrow.
I think I'll mail a card for A tomorrow.
I think I want to pack my red dress for Saturday.
I think I'm excited about this trip.
I think I'm hungry again.
I think I'll finish this chapter tomorrow.
I think I'm going to bed now.

There is the scent of chocolate covered cherries in the air

Actually it seems to be permeating everything. At least for the weeks leading up to the middle of February. All marketing, I suppose. The stores that start pushing pink and red, heart shaped, shiny things the day after Christmas. The oversaturation of all things chocolate and covered in ribbons. If all the love songs ever written could be slammed the same way Christmas songs do, then I'd never listen to the radio ever again.

This seems to imply I'm cynical about romance or something. How could I be cynical when there's chocolate involved? The day after Valentine's sales are the ones I look forward to, just to stock up on some good chocolates. And I love the craft possibilities with the heart shapes, and I really like pinks and reds.

I'm open to it, really I am. I'm open to any idea that encourages being romantic and nice and loving. I just think it should be something year round, not just once a year. Like a gift for someone when you feel like it, not just for their birthday. Like giving thanks for the blessings in your life, not just on turkey day.

Go figure - I can find a way to over process even the holidays.

See, I'm the type who will send cards to friends just because. I find things I think my friends or family will like, and give them at the next possible chance. I've kept all the cards my best friend has given me, the silly ones, the sappy ones.

I'm a firm believer in "It's the thought that counts." theory. Cause the three foot teddy bear that a guy gave me after meeting me once, was a sweet gesture, sure, but really weird. The dozen roses I got for Valentine's a few years ago were beautiful, but the fact was he had them sent because he thought I expected it, he bought into the marketing and the "that's what you do" mentality.

You know what? I have a picture on my desk. It sits next to my chocolate obsession stash of dark chocolate, chocolate dipped chocolate chunk cookies, and the thin mints girl scout cookies. Anyway. This picture? Kinda grainy, taken at an odd angle by my grandmother, in August 2004. She gave it to me several months ago, cleaning out her picture files, forgetting the fact that what is pictured was the past. This picture is of that day when L came to visit, and he got hit by meeting my whole slam-damn family at once. This picture was taken while he and I were stealing a quiet moment in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, and he's kissing my neck while my arm is wrapped around him. In this picture you can't see our faces, but I remember that moment.

When my grandmother handed me this photo, mixed in with a stack of others from family reunions and camping trips, I about cried. Because that was a sweet moment, and I missed it. I stuck it in the box of other memories, and tried to forget it. But I couldn't. And then, within the last several weeks, while L & I have been talking, I opened that box again. The past is the past, but memories are memories. And this one memory, this picture of one memory, reminds me that those moments are to be treasured no matter what happens, no matter what day they happen on.

So this is my contribution to the Valentine's Day massacre of crazy card buying and insane stuffed animals: Take the moments when you can, give the thoughts when you can, and buy the chocolates the day after, because it's on sale then!

I'm not perfect anymore, and it stings

I'm not one of those girls who looks cute when she cries. I'm the type whose nose turns red, my skin gets splotchy, I sniffle, and look like a general mess the moment a tear hits my eye. So the when Whiskey came in tonight and said "You look lovelier every time I see you", it threw me off.

Anyway. It's not like it was all that difficult to throw me off tonight.

I'm barely hanging on to stable for one whole day, and I screw up at work, and this upsets me greatly. I know I'll have a strike, I know this may mean I lose the raise I just got, and what upsets me most? The fact that I've had a clear record for six years and I just screwed up. (Note: The record in indication is a security clearance, not like I got busted for drunk driving or anything.)

This is like I felt in elementary school and I had perfect attendance. Until I got the chicken pox, and I still tried to go to school to keep that coveted "Perfect Attendance" on my record. It ate me up more that I was no longer "Perfect" than the fact that I had a fever and my skin was itching all over.

I know. It's not a big deal in the big scheme of things. I made a mistake. I made a decision that was wrong. And I got the hand slap for it. And I could barely sign the paper with the violation on it before tears came to my eyes.

I'm not entirely sure why I let things like this get to me so. I know it comes from my need to please, and some distorted desire to be perfect. Even when I inherently know that I'm not, when I know that life is messy, and that I constantly make decesions that are skewed. But I still want to be "perfect" damnit! Even when I know it's not possible because there is no such thing as perfect. Even when I know that it stresses me out to try to achieve this standard.

So I secluded myself into my own funk, finished the shift with the best fake smile I could manage, and came home to stew some more. Called L, and figured that he was too tired to talk, so it'd be a short conversation and I could curl up and just cry or something. Well, forget that. There's nothing like a good friend to kick you when you're licking your wounds. But while kicking sanity and sense back into me, he also told me stories about him not being perfect to make me feel better.

Yeah, it worked. It worked to remind me that I'm human and things happen, and on occasion I'll screw it up. And that it's ok. I still cried, but it's ok. Well, at least I think that if I keep telling myself this I'll believe it.

part II

Ok. Add masturbation to the list of things that feel really good. I probably shouldn't do that at work either, though.

think about it. or don't

I'm not entirely sure which feels better: anti-anxiety pills, a margarita, or both?

Hmm. Tough decision. 'Cause the anti-anxiety pills are supposed to lower blood pressure. Alcohol lowers blood pressure. Conclusion: Yeah, sure, why not? Hmm, again. Now I almost want a joint to see how I would react to that.

The alcohol and conversations were funny. You know - the alcohol really isn't all that funny by itself, it really is pretty serious. Unless you order something silly like a pineapple-raspberry margarita, cause that's just wrong in a weird way. But the conversation and friends were pretty darn funny. Either that or I was relaxed and enjoying myself, and not worrying about things.

Oh, speaking of which, that worry about bill paying got a little easier unwarranted. As of today I need not worry about the extra cash flow that I would be missing out on from not modeling, cause I was given a raise at work. Without asking, as L pointed out cause I was just excited over the getting recognition part. So all is pretty darn well on that front.

Still keeping the pills in the purse for when I need them. Cause they would frown on me having a bottle of tequila in my purse and taking nips of that.

yeah

Nothing says "I Love You Aunt 'Bella'!" like a big sloppy three year old covered in pasta and mozzarella kiss.

rules were meant to be broken

Rule: An accepted procedure, custom, or habit. A standard of judgment. A prescribed guide for conduct or action.

I can impose made up rules on my own life. I can try to impose them anyway. I make them up, decide which ones suit me, adapt what I need to, all to make my life run smoothly.

I can make up the rule that says I will get up when the alarm goes off. And then break it the moment I hit snooze for the twelfth time. I can make up the rule that I will be pleasant and not offend anyone. Then I let whatever I feel like saying flow, and eventually piss someone off. I can make up the rule that dictates I'll organize everything and make it nice and neat. Then reality kicks in and reminds me I don't function like that. I can make the rule that I will find and keep a job so I can pay my bills. And I can, for a while, then I realize I need a better reason to be at work than just paying bills. I can make the rule that I will eat healthy, exercise regularly, and all will be well. Well, I try to eat healthy, most of the time anyway, and exercise is random in form and time. And my body obviously has different ideas.

An hour and a half today at the doc's office. Asking questions, me asking her, her asking me. A blood test. An EKG. Some answers, more to come. Mild heart arrhythmias. Probably due to the panic attacks, probably nothing to do with my history, thankfully not a heart attack, nothing to worry about. Love it when they say things like "Nothing to worry about." Makes me feel SO much better. She gave me a small dose prescription for a beta-adrenergic blocker. To lower my already low blood pressure. To try to stabilize the rhythm until test results get back next week. Lovely.

That was sarcasm. I'm feeling much better now. Still moments of shakiness, but relatively ok.

Decided to quit modeling, much to the instructors chagrin. Those questions I brought up were reactions to not listening, or at least not paying attention, to what I need. Modeling is something I'm good at, and partly enjoy. But I've been doing it because of habit and it's time to move on. Modeling really is like a past life, and I need to move forward, go in new directions. I told her I'd work at least the rest of the month, until she can find a new model. But this is a chapter I need to close, so that I can pursue what waits ahead.

This would also correlate to the questions about relationships, but since I cannot make rules about that in the first place, I will try to just see what happens. I said TRY. This is something that matters to me obviously, but since this is something I cannot control, because there is another person and thier opinions and whims to work with, I can't just decide how I want things to be. So I focus on my work, on my creativity, on other things, because I can decide what to do there. Even though those are just as likely to change at a moments notice.

All this - all this thinking too much - is the likely trigger. I know this. So I make a rule that says I'll try not to think too much, I'll just go with the flow, and try to keep in mind my health first. Guess I'll see how long this one lasts.

Compassion and bubble gum

When is that moment when we learn that our heart, our love for another, is completely fragile? Like glass? Like a beautiful glass figurine of a heart, that on that first moment of true heartbreak, shatters.

Does this happen when we are young and we don't understand why Buddy the Turtle isn't there to play with anymore? Does this happen when we're 11 years old and the boyfriend/girlfriend we had a summer camp the year before is now bf/gf with someone else? Does this happen when we hear that our Papa died in his sleep?

How do we learn that feeling, then proceed with our lives? How do we gather those shattered pieces and patch them together? Bubble gum? Duct tape? Super glue?

Forget the fact that we have now learned pain. We now are experienced. We are now aware of the world and what can happen if we love someone or something with all our heart. And now our heart is not completely giveable, because those moments when it broke, little pieces went with the passing of love.

This is hard to justify. This is difficult to explain. We know what that potential for pain could be. We know that feeling and know that it will happen again someday.

And yet we welcome the chance to love again. Because what that pain means is that we loved in first place. It means that we opened up enough to care about someone else. It means that we felt the joy of being together, and treasured that exchange of feelings. It means that we remember the good parts of love and those parts were worth it all. It means that we are willing to give our all, even if that all is held together with bubble gum, to give our all to something that really matters. We are willing to stand up for that love, we are willing to give it away completely. We are open and compassionate. We are loving. We are not cynics after all, because that lure of love is stronger than the silence of not sharing.

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I had a rough day, just dealing with myself. The rock climber called to say that maybe lunch wasn't a good idea after all, that he should back off till I've worked things through. Sigh. Also started to answer some of my own thoughts and questions. Knowing I want to be moving forward and am taking baby steps, and yes, it is overwhelming. Am still going to the doctor tomorrow to rule out the physiological, just in case.

L had a rough day as well, many things going on with his business, re-working set-ups, etc. And one of his cats died today. Hearing him talk about his adoration and affection for his cats was tender. This is the man who used to be cynical, who used to say things like "It happens." and not be affected one way or the other. I realize that at the time he was like this he had to keep his mortality in check because of his work. Now he shares, is giving, and compassionate.

This got me thinking. He really has changed alot since we were together. I know I have. I know that going to see him next week has me anxious. But now I'm also curious. I want to find out all about him again. I want to see what he's like. I want to see what we're like. I want to see if this is a love worth the bubble gum.

Like the lines on the pages have gone all wobbly and are dripping

When in my mind too much, detours become abstract and take off on tangents of their own. Today was the abstract of extremes.

Standing completely still, a twenty minute pose, nothing hard. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was hungry. Maybe I was losing blood flow to my feet because my knees were locked. Maybe. All I know is that I'm standing there, staring at the blinds on a window, and these horrible, nightmarish images flash through my head. Painful images, as in broken bones, falling, hurting, bloody images. And it made me nauseous. All of a sudden I'm having a panic attack. I sat down there, and tried to take some deep breaths, to see if I could settle down. Thankfully the teacher called an early end to class.

Shaky. Freaked. Unsure. Bewildered. Emotional. Just sat there, in the changing room, trying to gather my wits. I left. Ate lunch. Stopped to visit my aunt awhile and just sat still. Then I went to work, and I thought I was fine. I figured it was a minor trip out and no big deal. Go on with the rest of my day.

And today was as busy as the past few have been. This is good for the company I know, but steady is easier to handle than busy. A brief ten minute break, call L to see how he's doing, and the phone rings again. It slowed enough by evening that I was able to do some homework, but I know I was tired at that point because I kept dozing off while reading. The guys grilled chicken and corn on the cob, so lunch was really good tonight. Finally hand over to the night shift and head home. Then remember I really needed body lotion because my skin is so dry right now that I used up my last bottle. So head to the store.

The rock climber calls, and we chat a bit. I finally get the guts to tell him that I'm going to see my ex next week and that we've been talking, and would like to try to see if things can work out. And I told him I really enjoy knowing him, but this is something I need to do. He said he appreciated that I told him, and that it's better to go now, to find out now, than if say, we were dating six months and this happened. He has a valid point. So we chatted a bit more, and he's coming in tomorrow so we'll meet up for lunch.

We hung up, I'm still driving, and boom!, I can't breathe. Again. Like there's a vise around my ribcage. What the hell? Once in a day I can (sorta) handle. Twice? What is going on? I calm down, pull into the parking lot and go get what I need and head home, still feeling weird.

It's all I can do to not cry, and I don't know why. PMS could be a factor, but jeez, never been like this before. I pull off my clothes, and oh, my, god, just pulling off the bra helped so much. That vise around the ribcage feeling - not gone, but better. Change in to sweats and I call L, lay on my bed and pull my legs to my chest as I tell him about my day. At least talking through the feelings and reactions helped. His day was tough on him, too, so we did our best to help each other out, I think.

I have no answer. This used to bug the hell out of me, too. I must have matured or grown up some where along the way, because I really did need to have answers to why I felt things, or what was going on. And part of me still does, part of me will question and try to figure out what the triggers are, and how to work through it all. But the other part, who may just be tired and too lazy to care, but I don't think that's it, has accepted that these things happen, and I'll deal with them as they do.

This is a way to deal, of letting that unknown happen, and not trying to suppress it, of experiencing it. Of not denying the bad, as well as not denying the good. Of knowing this happens, on occasion, with no warning that I can remember. So I will try to work through it, and when I feel it really means something, then I'll follow that direction.

Did today mean anything? I'm afraid of severe pain? I have too many irons in the fire and maybe need to quit modeling? I am subconsciously being self-destructive and it will catch up to me? And the always and forever one - I've gotten off the path I'm supposed to be on and my mind was trying to tell me?

Then tonight - I don't like hurting other people? The eternal what if of who is the person for me? (Not that I believe in soul mates anyway, I do believe in certain people connecting for the right reasons at the right times in their lives, and if those turn into relationships and work out or not, the influence of those you meet is always there.) I'm a girl who needs to be wanted, needs to feel useful, needs to feel loved, and I've narrowed the targets and am aiming at one person now, and it does scare me? And what if L & I don't work out after all, will anyone else out there want me?

Still no answers. Still rattled enough to not want to think about it. Still feel my energy is all over the place.

I'll try to fill in the blanks when I know what's going on. Till then, I'll work in abstract.

I forget myself sometimes

Like a mutiny of my thoughts, one minute I'm self-reliant and capable, the next I'm curled up on the floor trying to hide from whatever.

I know I'm tired. I am wishing I could do more to help my best friend because she is having a tough time right now. She has a family member treating her like she's no more than a teenager, and insisting she needs therapy. A is one of the strongest and mentally healthy women I know, and it disturbs me that anyone would suggest otherwise. I offered to come down and beat someone up for her. But at least I'll see her later this week and we can talk then.

I know I'm anxious. Because I feel a helluva lot more comfortable talking to L now. Enough to tell him when I feel inadequate or unsure. Enough to tell him I feel that twinge of jealousy when he calls his ex "my ex", or has friends to go out with. And while we both say "no pressure" on the visit in two weeks, we both said the same thing before we met in Charleston, and I think we're both aware of what we hope for. I do feel better when he says things along the lines of enjoying the interactions, of wanting to see me, of hoping to work things out, because I feel these too, and I hate being the only one feeling or thinking these things.

I know I'm scattered. And that includes everything. Technically working two jobs to make sure I can pay the bills. Re-connecting with L and still kinda talking to the rock climber. Worrying about A. Attempting to make it through this class, but being too busy to do the reading required. Wanting to start a business that I know will take time and patience to put together, as well as wanting to pursue artwork like carving and painting. Being asked by friends to help on projects, and being interested, wanting to, but knowing that I have enough to do as it is and really ought to say not right now. Still having things in disarray from when I rearranged furniture over a month ago, because I look at the boxes that should go in the attic and decide I'll do it later.

I know I'm content. I'm tired, anxious, and scattered, but content. I think if I don't think too much, just go with my routine, and try not to get in my own way, that I'll be fine. But it doesn't work that way. Things change, I change my mind constantly, ideas come and go, feelings ebb and flow, and I'm ok with that. At least I can feel, at least I can care, at least I can want to do these things, whether I ever accomplish them or not, the intent is there.

And if the most I accomplished today was keeping the customers happy, was talking to my best friend to make her feel better, was talking to L to make myself feel better, and doing a little writing... then today was a good day. I just have to remind myself of that.

a day

Low throbbing headache. I'm blaming the wind. Very busy today, surprisingly. Short handed, busy, crazy weather - makes a slightly draining day.

Strange muscle ache in my back right above my hip bone - the illiac crest. I know where it hurts. Just don't know why it hurts. The rock climber, whom I've talked to more tonight than I have to L in the past two days, suggested that getting laid would probably help alleviate the pain.

Part of me agrees with that statement. But I really would rather it be L. And he knows this. I haven't the guts to tell the rock climber that I don't want to see him anymore, because I'm still afraid that I'm hoping for too much in thinking that L & I can work.

Does this sound crazy? Or superficial? Or what? I feel like I'm still talking to the rock climber as a saftey net. I go to see L in less than two weeks, and I am afraid. I'm just not entriely sure what it is I'm afraid of. Him? Me? Feelings?

Maybe it all chalks up to I'm tired, my back really hurts, my foot has now fallen asleep, and my head aches. Maybe getting laid isn't such a bad idea after all.

Wear your heart on your sleeve...

and it won't be there when you take your shirt off.

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Desire drives the innermost ideas of what we want. Desire and acceptance.

To be able to process the heart is like trying to discuss the theory of relativity underwater. Not real conducive to humor, yet frighteningly prospective of mind numbing mantras that play over and over in the back of elevators.

Where the general hopes fall into place is that moment of open clarity and connection. Desire is the fore-runner to prove that hypothesis, as desire has a vested interest in any outcome in it's favor. Acceptance plays the game of cat-and-mouse, tugging back and forth between logical facts and romantic ideals.

To follow either desire or acceptance takes the courage of actually listening to that inner turmoil, listening to the inner soul, driving forward with optimism, and letting the risk be worth it. Bare that fear and take a good look at it, realize what is fearful is also desire driven, realize just facing that fear changes its hold on your heart.

Some suggest panicking loudly, some suggest retreating hastily, some suggest curling up in a ball and falling asleep. All three can be viable options. The suggestion most often ignored is the stand up and fight method, the one that dictates letting everyone, friend or foe, lover or loser, know every possible thought and outcome. This method is difficult because baring so openly leaves little room for protection. This method is known for producing casualties. Perhaps this is why this method is best left unsaid, except to those daring or dumb enough to try it.

Tender and tough, these are innocent hopes to be protected, and these are powerful ideas to be nourished. Never really know when either will come into play. Never really know what will capture our attention. Never really know how to react to it all. Never really know which will be the best course of action until that moment is laid out at our feet.

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I wear my heart proudly.

downloading the day's thoughts

A long day. Three hour class. Pay the bills and realize paycheck is completely gone. Wow. 40 bucks till next payday. But I have food to last the next two weeks and a full tank of gas so it'll be good to budget myself better.

Then to work. Where I got to watch the guys dig through the box of goodies, all the free keychains and stress balls and bouncy light up balls and pens and flashlights that were given away at last weeks conference. So watching them was like watching them open Christmas presents or something. It was great.

Work itself was quiet, so the boys tossed a frisbee around for about an hour... I even attempted to toss it a few times, and was reminded that I throw like a girl. Well, duh. Also watched the clouds change colors with the sunset, soft pinks to violets to dark blues and grays. I laughed at the boys and enjoyed the night. Warm for winter, but it's felt like spring for weeks already.

Was invited out to drink beers with some of our customers. Yeah, it felt nice to be asked, and these are nice guys, but they are customers, and I figure that would be weird. As well as I had no desire for beer tonight, I wanted chocolate milk. And I was tired and wanted to go home and get comfy. So I did.

How is it the daily life just goes and goes, and I put off things like sorting old school and business papers, or leave half finished knitting projects till a week or so later, or start an organizing spree and leave everything scattered out for weeks till I get tired of it and just sit and get it done? I'll admit the only reason I did any cleaning tonight was because I couldn't find my scissors anywhere and had to dig and then just started sorting and picking up. So, my desk looks better than it did yesterday, but I know I'll just pile more stuff on it tomorrow.

It seems that I've forgotten how to appreciate the daily, the mundane, the routine. I've forgotten about it and just let it slip by, day by day. Till it feels like a day or two has passed, when in reality it's been a week or two. I knew I had issues with time management, but this is ridiculous.

4,5,6 come on and get your kicks

Today's soundtrack provided by Jet. More precisely by "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" on repeat.

Why? Two reasons. a) Can't help it, it's got a great beat, the song comes on and I start bouncing my head, dancing around. b) Because the rock climber, or 'mountain boy' as L called him, came down today to meet me for lunch.

Yes, all we did was eat lunch... no quickies, no nooner, but the thought did cross both our minds. But what does this have to do with the song?

Well... this can go so many ways. We can go so many ways. As in I really enjoy his company, and I like gettting to know him better. As in I love L, and really want things to work out between us. As in either way, no matter what I want from the men in my life, I am still single, and I might as well keep my options open. As in right now I want to be L's girl, because we connect and are compatible on many levels, not to mention we have history together. As in if L wasn't part of the picture, if there really was no chance ever, then yeah, I'd be spending more time talking to the rock climber.

And since I'm not going to just flip a coin or anything, I'm going to enjoy talking to both. And I'll wait till one of them gets to the point he wants to ask me to be his girl.

"dunh, dunh, dunh... I said a 1,2,3, take my hand and come with me 'cause you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine...."