Dating when you're an 'adult' sucks. You're busy, you don't want to stay up too late because you have to work the next day and you don't want to get too wasted either (because it really sucks when you're older to be hungover at work). This eliminates the whole 'let's get drunk and make out and get it over with' possibility. Which encapsulates my current quandry. We've been on four dates and not even had an open mouth kiss. I think it's time for some type of drunk date. And I have to mastermind it, because he's just so goddamn nice. I'm not complaining, we're going nice and slow, but if we don't switch it into second gear soon, I'm afraid we might stall.
So, I have two options. 1. Call him on Friday when i'm already tipsy and convince him to come down and meet me and join in the debauch or, 2. Straight up tell him that our next date has to involve getting drunk and making out (or just making out).
I swear to god, when I was younger I could've never imagined that dating be so much work. Thinking up ideas, working around two busy schedules is really challenging. But, fingers crossed, things will get easier once we put it in second gear.....now I just have to figure out how to get there....
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
mercury in retrograde
........this 'special' astrological phenomenon means mercury appears to be moving backwards and its happening all freaking month. May 8-31 is fated to be rife with personal misunderstandings due to muddling every form of communication and perception we have. Call me crazy for believing in this shit, but I swear -- the feeling like I'm running in water and not moving any where has definitley been a theme this month.
I'm anticipating a clearer head and sense of direction later this month- and I must say 'thank god'! The ambiguous world I've been living in has tested my patience. I can't feel a connection with people- even people I have long-established relationships with. It's like we're talking but not knowing what each other is saying.
As for my writing hiatus-- i can't even discipher what my thoughts mean--- let alone feel the clarity to express them in black and white.
Mercury in retrograde---you're a dirty dirty shame. You're a perpetual morning after. And I really hate you for that. So, here's to next month, and the caffiene finally working the way it should!
I'm anticipating a clearer head and sense of direction later this month- and I must say 'thank god'! The ambiguous world I've been living in has tested my patience. I can't feel a connection with people- even people I have long-established relationships with. It's like we're talking but not knowing what each other is saying.
As for my writing hiatus-- i can't even discipher what my thoughts mean--- let alone feel the clarity to express them in black and white.
Mercury in retrograde---you're a dirty dirty shame. You're a perpetual morning after. And I really hate you for that. So, here's to next month, and the caffiene finally working the way it should!
Monday, May 4, 2009
toxic cocktail
A writer, a person, a friend, a woman. I wonder why the planes are so flat, paradoxically, I can reach the bottom but not the top. The upwards slope is idealized in a way that makes me wonder what's really up there, and why I keep slipping. Is the peak a construct of society, and the happiness portrayed there simply fiction?
I have anger. Lots of it. I've never been able to figure out where it comes from. Tossing and turning last night after reading John Updike's Seek My Face my flitting thoughts kept me awake, but were more than revelatory.
..............I'm not really interested in what random people have to say to me (unless it's someone I really care about), even if it's some ridiculous story that might have really happened. I put on a good show though. Appropriate 'un huns' and 'reallys?', mixed with eye contact and appropriate questions. Is that even human? Therefore, I detest socializing without a little bit of booze mixed in to numb myself from feeling so exhausted bythe effort required for these encounters.
..............I'm not your typical artist/writer (stereo) type who lives in their own world and is absorbed in it, not affected by external factors. Quite the opposite. I feel too much, think too much, overanalyze and expect too much. This leaves me saddened and perennially dissapointed and unsatisfied- ultimately angry that I can't reach that mythical peak. Blissful ignorance. That place where people are happy and content with what they have and where they're going, and the simplest encounters are enjoyable.
Mix these two and a bit of booze together and you have a recipe for anger. This toxic cocktail takes me from mildly interested and sociable to completely angry and destructive. Starting at the root ingredient means looking at why I'm so mad at the world and expecting less from it. Expecting that I won't find that idealized version, and becoming comfortable with the version I have now.
Or, realizing that Truth is Ugly. My version of reality and reality seems to have a large discrepancy. And I think it's the truth factor. To seek the absolute truth about what kind of world I live in and the life I've created within it, I have to realize that it won't be pretty and won't meet my expectations. Ever.
I think alcohol works to take the blindfold off for me--- it shows me how distorted my perception of things are-- and it scares me. It makes me mad. Because in my world, I create an idolized version of things. The version at the bottom of the cocktail glass is certainly as raw as you can get. The guts, the marrow of how we live, it somehow never satisfies me. Reveling in the everyday workings - interacting with people, enjoying the sunshine, the satsifaction of a nice meal. I'm somehow numb to it. I think back and wonder- why was I not happy at that time?; that time I lived in the most romantic city in the world; that time I wandered the streets of Portugal- free to do as I pleased; that time I was with all of my friends in a bar watching a show. I wonder why I always feel that something's not there--- every moment has a missing piece.
I don't accept things how they are, but how I want them to be. And maybe that's why I write. Maybe I can write the effects of this toxic cocktail out of me, until all of my idealized notions of life are laid bare, splayed on the page naked. Except it's the naked parts, the ugly marrow that seems to come out-- the truth about how I think. Because, I play it well. Life that is. I play to the idealized notion that everyone has of me. Because how can I expect it from the world if I don't play the part? And when the blindfold comes off; the toxic cocktail plays it part? I'm desolate, i'm barren, i'm destructive, i'm angry, i'm sad, i'm ugly--- and maybe, that's the truth.
I have anger. Lots of it. I've never been able to figure out where it comes from. Tossing and turning last night after reading John Updike's Seek My Face my flitting thoughts kept me awake, but were more than revelatory.
..............I'm not really interested in what random people have to say to me (unless it's someone I really care about), even if it's some ridiculous story that might have really happened. I put on a good show though. Appropriate 'un huns' and 'reallys?', mixed with eye contact and appropriate questions. Is that even human? Therefore, I detest socializing without a little bit of booze mixed in to numb myself from feeling so exhausted bythe effort required for these encounters.
..............I'm not your typical artist/writer (stereo) type who lives in their own world and is absorbed in it, not affected by external factors. Quite the opposite. I feel too much, think too much, overanalyze and expect too much. This leaves me saddened and perennially dissapointed and unsatisfied- ultimately angry that I can't reach that mythical peak. Blissful ignorance. That place where people are happy and content with what they have and where they're going, and the simplest encounters are enjoyable.
Mix these two and a bit of booze together and you have a recipe for anger. This toxic cocktail takes me from mildly interested and sociable to completely angry and destructive. Starting at the root ingredient means looking at why I'm so mad at the world and expecting less from it. Expecting that I won't find that idealized version, and becoming comfortable with the version I have now.
Or, realizing that Truth is Ugly. My version of reality and reality seems to have a large discrepancy. And I think it's the truth factor. To seek the absolute truth about what kind of world I live in and the life I've created within it, I have to realize that it won't be pretty and won't meet my expectations. Ever.
I think alcohol works to take the blindfold off for me--- it shows me how distorted my perception of things are-- and it scares me. It makes me mad. Because in my world, I create an idolized version of things. The version at the bottom of the cocktail glass is certainly as raw as you can get. The guts, the marrow of how we live, it somehow never satisfies me. Reveling in the everyday workings - interacting with people, enjoying the sunshine, the satsifaction of a nice meal. I'm somehow numb to it. I think back and wonder- why was I not happy at that time?; that time I lived in the most romantic city in the world; that time I wandered the streets of Portugal- free to do as I pleased; that time I was with all of my friends in a bar watching a show. I wonder why I always feel that something's not there--- every moment has a missing piece.
I don't accept things how they are, but how I want them to be. And maybe that's why I write. Maybe I can write the effects of this toxic cocktail out of me, until all of my idealized notions of life are laid bare, splayed on the page naked. Except it's the naked parts, the ugly marrow that seems to come out-- the truth about how I think. Because, I play it well. Life that is. I play to the idealized notion that everyone has of me. Because how can I expect it from the world if I don't play the part? And when the blindfold comes off; the toxic cocktail plays it part? I'm desolate, i'm barren, i'm destructive, i'm angry, i'm sad, i'm ugly--- and maybe, that's the truth.
Friday, May 1, 2009
it destroys me
what we had was dangerous.
the feeling you get when you walk into a dark alley looking for a high. your vision is imparied by the dim lights and the narrow space gives the illusion that you're in a tunnel. the feeling in the pit of your stomach is rushing to your head, giving you the impression that you're already jacked. you believe you'll find what you're looking for at the end, and that it will make you incredibly happy. or at least give you the illusion that that is your reality.
the lines started to blur between illusion and reality. what I thought was real, wasn't, and what I thought was illusion, was, terrifyingly real. our love was like a drug - making me feel good, but knowingly temporary. i thought i could distance myself from the addictive properties. i thought i was always detached from it fully-- always having a backup plan so my lows weren't so, well, low.
so why i'm I still thinking about it two years later?
beacause I always knew, always felt, that we had something different, something that was literally too good to really exist. and when we discovered it did, it was terrifying. like seeing the vortex of a tornado. powerfully beautiful. and it destroyed us. it still destroys me.
the feeling you get when you walk into a dark alley looking for a high. your vision is imparied by the dim lights and the narrow space gives the illusion that you're in a tunnel. the feeling in the pit of your stomach is rushing to your head, giving you the impression that you're already jacked. you believe you'll find what you're looking for at the end, and that it will make you incredibly happy. or at least give you the illusion that that is your reality.
the lines started to blur between illusion and reality. what I thought was real, wasn't, and what I thought was illusion, was, terrifyingly real. our love was like a drug - making me feel good, but knowingly temporary. i thought i could distance myself from the addictive properties. i thought i was always detached from it fully-- always having a backup plan so my lows weren't so, well, low.
so why i'm I still thinking about it two years later?
beacause I always knew, always felt, that we had something different, something that was literally too good to really exist. and when we discovered it did, it was terrifying. like seeing the vortex of a tornado. powerfully beautiful. and it destroyed us. it still destroys me.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
one day late
walking with his head down, eveloped by a dark countenance, visibly separated from what was now. what had was all. his long dark curls bounced with his slow gait, his face peering down with a pointed intensity, as if he could decode the cracks in the sidewalk. the dark overcoat insinuated a much colder day, and the wooden cane aged him beyond his years. visually distinct, separated from a reality where most people were celebrating the first day of sun after a long winter.
Perhaps he was one day late.
Perhaps he was one day late.
Friday, April 24, 2009
fuzzy edges
The feeling when you've been napping too much. You wake, and look around; spots and fuzzy edges. My brain has been napping for so long, the world has taken on this look, and I'm scared it's permanent. Moments that may be exciting or joyful are tempered by this lens and I start to feel numb. Out of body. Looking at myself and others and life as if an observer, calmy noting the markers of the day.
7:00 am - Get up, excited for coffee, blast some music and dance around to get myself 'pumped' for the day.
7:30 am- Get dressed. Wear new shoes today. Yay.
8:00 am- Decide wheather it will be a Starbucks day today or not.
8:30 am- Get to work, check Facebook, Google blogger, and various other sites for a couple of hours.
10:30 am- Coffee break, a chance for my new shoes to go for a walk.
12:00pm- Lunch time- read my magazine and decide wheather I should ditch work for the afternoon or not.
12:00 - 4:00 pm- Either work from home (ie. watch a movie and keep email open) or go shopping/errands and hope that I don't get any emails- usually I don't.
And they pay me a ridiculous amount to do this. I just asked my boss for more work, and she kind of laughed. What kind of alternative universe is this? Fuzzy edges and all.
Also had a FML moment last night. Blind date, arrived early - where a very hot, very my type bartender served me a drink. We probably would have struck up a conversation, had my yucky, eventually obnoxious date not shown up.
Three things since my last post that have, surprisingly, made me happy:
1. Army & Navy Annual Shoe sale. THE premier sports event for shoe aficionados like myself. Momma got herself 6 new pairs of shoes. Yay!
2. Reuniting with friend I hooked up with who made it awkward for three months after. We had beers, talked philosophy, Ayn Rand- it was lovely.
3. Rediscovering how sticky green gets me motivated to clean house, and feel really good about it.
7:00 am - Get up, excited for coffee, blast some music and dance around to get myself 'pumped' for the day.
7:30 am- Get dressed. Wear new shoes today. Yay.
8:00 am- Decide wheather it will be a Starbucks day today or not.
8:30 am- Get to work, check Facebook, Google blogger, and various other sites for a couple of hours.
10:30 am- Coffee break, a chance for my new shoes to go for a walk.
12:00pm- Lunch time- read my magazine and decide wheather I should ditch work for the afternoon or not.
12:00 - 4:00 pm- Either work from home (ie. watch a movie and keep email open) or go shopping/errands and hope that I don't get any emails- usually I don't.
And they pay me a ridiculous amount to do this. I just asked my boss for more work, and she kind of laughed. What kind of alternative universe is this? Fuzzy edges and all.
Also had a FML moment last night. Blind date, arrived early - where a very hot, very my type bartender served me a drink. We probably would have struck up a conversation, had my yucky, eventually obnoxious date not shown up.
Three things since my last post that have, surprisingly, made me happy:
1. Army & Navy Annual Shoe sale. THE premier sports event for shoe aficionados like myself. Momma got herself 6 new pairs of shoes. Yay!
2. Reuniting with friend I hooked up with who made it awkward for three months after. We had beers, talked philosophy, Ayn Rand- it was lovely.
3. Rediscovering how sticky green gets me motivated to clean house, and feel really good about it.
Friday, April 17, 2009
as the years pass
hopfeully crazy doesn't go off the rails.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk9rtgF5bsc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mk9rtgF5bsc
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