Note to self: It's never a good sign when someone makes you feel like getting sick in your mouth a little...common sense to most but I am forever the idio....t....er...optimist. Uh-huh.



So I kicked a girl in the ankle today, walking on the sidewalk. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but I thought it would be an all out, wound up, punt to someone's shin. This wasn't actually on purpose...she meandered across my path like the UES brat she likely was, and I just didn't yield...and kicked her in the ankle. I'm not proud, but she seemed an idiot and there really wasn't any other option.

And P.S. - I want this one. If it is right and real, I want it. Because, my GAWD.

I'm just sayin'...

Old OLD stuff that yous guys asked me to bring to the forefront again. Not so much to remind you, but to remind me, huh? I get it ;-)




Saturday, February 23, 2008

Figured I’d trot this one out again.

I've stopped trying to explain a long time ago, in order to preserve my sanity and my faith in mankind. What I will reiterate, even though I'm more than fairly certain it won't make a tad bit of difference, is that when I write, it is for me. When I write on here, it is for me and my friends, who know the deal and the demons, to see what's going on in my brain b/c I either cannot express it verbally or don't get to talk to them much. When I do write about "you" it is a way for me to process; to try and figure out what I think and feel about things. My communication talents and my introspection abilities are rustic at best, and this is the one way I've learned to work things out.

Therefore, if you are offended, I will not apologize. If you don't like it, then don't read it. If you think it's about you, it's probably not. In moments that there is a specific "you" it's more than likely a trial of an issue that "you" have brought to the surface than a specific indictment of you as a person or a friend.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Evidently the Power Point presentation wasn’t a bad idea after all, Alicia.Because I am at a loss. I, throughout my life, have done everything I know to make you understand. Pictures, charts, maps, mimes, informational films (and not the good kind), smoke signals, pig latin, hieroglyphs…you name it, I have done it all, while standing on my head, holding my breath, painting my toenails and whistling Dixie. And for God’s Sake I am quite sure that I don’t even know the proper tune, I was always just winging it. All of that to have you look at me like I am speaking another language (although I think I’ve tried that too) altogether different from the one that you know.
A little dramatic? Well, yeah, sure. Duh. But it is how I feel sometimes. Like I did something in a previous lifetime that sealed my fate in this one to be invisible and mute.

Even as I continually shriek with all of the force of my lungs and pirouette at odd, jerking angles that make me stand out from the back of the fluid, albeit unremarkable, chorus. Listen, I’m not trying to be a pretty ballerina here, just an expressive one. The theory of "what’s that girl doin’?""Don’t know but it looks different. Let’s pay attention to her."Has clearly failed me.

But where I once thought it was for your attention, I have quickly come to realize that my black sheep, odd man out, carve my own path out of stone mentality had nothing to do with you, them or anything else at all other than becoming who I am.Huh.You mean I am not a bobble-head doll, here to please you?You mean, even if I make you angry or hurt or confused, or God forbid if I make you think, that it is ok because it’s all coming from a pure place, instead of a calculated, ill-contented, off balanced one?Interesting.

So, what I’m hearing here is, all this drama could be about me, and not you?

Ok, let me catch up. This could be about me figuring out my life, exorcising my previously internalized demons and healing the wounds that they left so deeply inside of me? I could be re-learning how to communicate; i.e. open mouth let words that express true feelings escape without the strange urge to throw myself into traffic and then, be patient enough, not cringing and twitchy, to see how they were received and then reciprocate accordingly? I could be learning how to let my walls down…you mean to tell me that I could be testing the water to see how it feels to me? To me without being concerned with you?Well, that is astounding, really.That all of my fumbling and fussing, loving and hurting, clarity and confusion when it comes to every last one of you can be about me until it becomes about us.

That it doesn’t matter if you understand, as long as I am true to myself, my family, my friends and my faith. All of this is going to come together eventually no matter how hard I clamor at the wrong human being to be heard.

This is all very mind-blowing and revolutionary.

I might need to sleep on it.For a few years.

Until I get woken up.Or until I get tired of chasing my tail and entertaining myself for the moment in my dreams.Whichever comes first.Because, believe it or not (and I know you don’t believe it at all) through all of this, I still believe in Prince Charming. I just don’t believe that I have to wait for him to wake me up. I’ll do that myself. Then draw my sword to slay a few dragons and ogres before I meet him in the Land of Happy Medium. I work my way towards him, he works his way towards me.
Get it? (Sorry, still a little bit stuck in the spelling it out for you phase).

What? I can’t write my own fairy tale?

Saturday, June 30, 2007

This one seems to be doing the rounds for a reason

..> ..> I wrote this over three years ago. Matt reposted it on his page, and I am reposting it now on mine...Every now and then, old friends need a reminder. And then there are new friends who need to be informed, because they clearly have issues with understanding.

But for real, thank God for my Monkeys.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006
..> ..>
i hope she doesn't hate me for this...
the following, my friends, is why i feel it is necessary to wake up on days that i would normally pray the sun would never rise. its not enough just to know someone who can write these words; rather, the ultimacy lies in the fulfilling nature of being a part of it. knowing that any percentage could be directed at you.

When it all comes down to it, maybe it is a question of how much you mean to me. Maybe you don't understand. Fair enough. Now I'm telling you. My love is strong, and pure. If I love you, I worship you for your strengths, and realize who you are for your weaknesses. Because I am such a potent mixture of both strength and weakness, I see the beauty even in the things that you hate about yourself. I am the one who will see the greatness in you, even when you hurt me. I will defend you, your right to be mixed up, anti-social, angry, sad, silly, skippingly happy, glaringly wrong or triumphantly right. Whatever in this world you could possibly feel is necessary to being you, I support you.

Once I have told you, there is still room to mess up. To disappoint. To annoy and ignore. Because when I say I love you forever, I mean forever. If I have claimed you as mine, a possession of my heart, which is rare, you will exist there always. Love is something that I was born to give, freely and generously with no exceptions. Relationships and friendships are existences that follow the tides. Sometimes full of warm, lolling waves and moon kissed waters. Sometimes waning and choppy, dark and cold. There is no way in our power to control the consistency of the surf, and where the waves will break. But that doesn't mean that we ignore the ocean...we jump in, embrace it, and just hope that we make it out alive. I've come to the point that I've made it out alive enough to know that, even if you hurt me, I will continue to live and live well.

Here is where I warn you: It takes a strong person to love me back. I deal in respect, consideration, love, loyalty and honesty. All of these things are intertwined. Even if I love you eternally, if you hand me back anything less than what I give you, continually or maliciously or flippantly, I don't have room for you in my life. In my big and strong heart always, but not my life. I will always take care of myself, and if knowing you detracts from the complicated beauty of my life, than I just won't know you anymore.

my only wish is that everyone could know somebody that wise and willing to love. as for you, you know who you are, thank you for letting me in.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Zombie thoughts of a tired girl

There is a "special needs" cat named Ty that I want to adopt. My heart always yearns to love something broken. It's not sure what do to with offerings from other hearts that are whole. My computer is not working and I will continue to die a slow spiritual death if I can't find some sort of creative outlet. Other than drinking. But that's not creative it's numbing.

I have no TV and just bought a Jack Kerouac compilation b/c when the book fell open in my hands he was writing of San Francisco on one page and New York on the opposite page...I spent five minutes dreaming of the descriptive words of opposite Beloved Cities being mashed together when the book was closed and reshelved, spending the night in it's place between the other books and wished suddenly and passionately that I could somehow mash myself in between those words and breath. I took it as a sign and bought the book. Along with Friedrich Nietzsche's "Thus Spake Zarathustra" simply because it mentioned discussion of the intricate relationship between Christianity and Judaism.

I have a crush on an Irish Bartender whose music makes my muse run high and who doesn't seem to have enough pens; not to mention it is evident that he's no idea what to do with me (surprise) and who would (once again) be a bad choice in the long run, but (for the first time) I don't think that I will choose him.

I am restless, I know that things are changing I can feel it in everything and I know that I have to wait and act. All at once. I can't keep my body still I could never make my mind stop and I see that I am going to start testing my boundaries more than ever very soon. I am told that I am hyper-aware of time, that I just know things and have always known things and will always know...that I will save women and those weaker, that I run away from what I don't know how to deal with and will be stuck in this very same holding pattern until I deal with why and stop acting like I don't care.

I realize that what I have been stuffing back down my throat for years is power that I am afraid I can't contain once it's been released...and I find that I am not afraid anymore. Stirring the pot is a good way to make everything come to the surface - I'll take the good that comes from upsetting that balance even if it means that there is a lot of bad that comes up with it.
Safe is nowhere in my heart, my head. Not for awhile.

Someday.

Friday, October 19, 2007

Shouldn't we get an f-ing manual? Some sort of guideline/rule book/in case of emergency outline...something?

There must be some way to deal with this other than avoidance, resistance and shots. Of Jameson, God yes please. There's gotta be some zen-esque plane that we can all relax on - a sort of male/female common ground that nobody will fuck with.

It's quite a shocking revelation to notice that I've been throwing stones at a mirror; not quite living in a glass house but really tossing some monster unfairness around at others when I should be looking long and hard at my very own green-eyed reflection. Entienda? No? Me either. Intente explicar? Ok. I get impatient with people who are closed. Unresponsive. Passive, nonchalant and unforthcoming. If you will not offer yourself up to me, I cannot be bothered with you. So be gone.

Or so it seems...because I know I am not that way. I just haven't a clue how to tell any of you that I am not that way.

Anybody who has dated me, feel free to chime in with all of the instances in which I have been all of the above towards you. Don't all rush in here at once, now. Because while I am just as guilty as anyone who I try to poke a finger at, these things are a defense mechanism (it does sound lame, doesn't it?) honed to perfection by years of disbelief over all of the scandalous ways that people treat each other. It's not because I don't care. It's not because I am aloof or duplicitous, it's not because I can't be moved or don't have any feelings. It's because I have watched and learned, vicariously and personally.

It's a thick skin indeed that I have crafted around this painfully sensitive soul.

I'm ready to feel the tiny pin-pricks that mean my being is becoming un-numb. I am ready to get hurt again, be angry again, and deal with it. Because until I allow myself to feel these things, I won't be ready to love.

And that's what I'm here for, really.