It'll rain, and it'll all be gone. Just like any other ash. Washed away. Gone.

Just like every other impermanent thing. Gone.

I suppose I tend towards poetry when I don't want to say how it feels. I display every aching sound that's waiting at the back of my throat with pretty words. Pretty, pretty words. I know that I can have power enough over those words to say them one day and I know how much it will mean when it happens.

Until then, it's poetry for me. Pretty, pretty words.

I just lint-brushed the cat. And she liked it...ha!

Still thinking about writing letters...actually, writing a letter. I think it would be a fabulous story to tell, anyway. I guess all of the other stuff would just have to fall into place...see that's me not talking myself out of someone before I even get to know him.

Yeah, good luck with that!

I am lost in the romanticism of letter writing. How much more I would get out of a relationship if I could participate in at least part of it by writing. I am enraptured by the thought...

It seems so much more a personal form of communication than the spoken word. So much more...unlikely to induce lies and shallow intentions. Much more of a forum for love to bud...and real understanding to take place. It seems like a medium that I can get down with, and an era that I totally missed out on.

I am resoundingly happy, right now. I've just had a great friend in for the weekend, and am expecting two great friends in just two weeks. I've had a heart to heart with Mama Blake, I'm reading a good book, my apartment's clean so that I can relax with a glass of wine and some good cheese. I am busting my butt at work and am gleaning some major satisfaction from that; I am learning to trust my instincts in the office and on the dance floor. I am getting to know some real, interesting, genuine boys, and have a thought in my head to make a very uncharacteristic move by going completely old school with one of them...stay tuned for how that goes.

And all of this because I turned the damn television off.

Go figure.

Apres moi le deluge (after me comes the flood)

I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice
-Regina Specter

Yes, I can say no. Yes, I can put my foot down. And yes I will. I reckon the problem is twofold: A. I am never one to deny myself something that I want and B. I always want to see what happens when I touch the hot coil on the stove. Never mind that I've been burned before and brandish the scars to prove it...it's just so enticing when it glows the bright orange of Pele's Lava.

Even if it's not as dangerous as the hot coil...I've adopted a bit of the ocean's attitude - rolling with the tide. It might be a mistake to feel that there are somethings that I just have no control of. And that some people may have perfect and exacting control over most aspects of their lives, but it all just seems so exhausting to me. I would rather just concentrate on happily keeping myself afloat in the swells and just see what new and interesting thing that I come upon.

It sounds a bit negative to my Virgo yet somewhat hippie ears...essentially I am waxing poetical about floating, drifting, having no anchor, no place to plant my feet...can you see what's coming next, people?...no stability. Sometimes I feel that this might even be what the loneliness, the lack of a sense of belonging or purpose comes from. And yet, I resist taking that damn bull by the horns, even though I will stand straight up to it and take a horn in the ribs. You will call me nothing if not brave. And I will die to prove it.

I hurt myself last night...some piddlin' little pain, but none the less, it hurt. And instead of stopping to make the pain go away, make myself feel better, I just sucked in air through my teeth and welcomed the pain, as if I deserved it.

Why do I think I deserve such pain?

10 Minutes...

"From your mouth to God's ears"...don't I know it.

I don't know what it is about snow that makes people go stupid, but it does. And someone needs to explain to me why it slows SUB-way service down...SUB as in below as in where the freak is the snow that is making my train 20 minutes late.

We were at the theatre last night and our usher, who I suspect was drunk or on her way to being, screamed at us (well, me) for finding our own seats. "E-scuse me" tap tap tap on my shoulder "you have to wait to be directed."...

"Yeah, it's ok...I think she just found our seats. Thanks though. Can I have a play bill? And your flask? Thanks."

I was just outside the office this morning, when I see one of our managing directors approaching from the opposite direction. Nice guy, doesn't know quite what to do with the power that he naturally exudes so he throws it around a little bit too much, but whatever. As we draw closer to the office, a Fresh Direct delivery truck stops at the curb long enough for the driver to look at me and say, "hi. Nice ass." Lovely.

I was digging for my key card and paused to grimace at the guy...I enjoy a good catcall now and then, but not at 7 am when somone I work with overhears. I thought he was gonna choke on his coffee, he was so squirmy as we walked through the door together. Tripped up the stairs and thanked me profusely for holding the door for him. Thanks. Thank you. Thanks very much. Uh, sure. I'm thinkin' "that made you uncomfortable? Curious. Maybe you'll think about that next time you're throwing all of that misguided power around."

If I don't mess something up at least once a week, I get very nervous. Because that means something big might happen...

Good news is, I messed something up today, so I'm probably all set. Don't worry, I just knocked on wood.

The problem is the guilt that I feel when I do something wrong. Not "wrong in the name of fun" wrong (cute boy, for example - that's totally wrong but it is sooo much fun, it doesn't bother me at all), but messing up at work (today) or forgetting to do something for my family or neglecting that phone call that I really need to make...everything else I can put to the side and deal with; guilt is almost debilitating. I know that people make mistakes and I know that no one is perfect and I need to learn how to deal, but here I am. Sitting at my desk. Writing my ten minutes because I feel so bad that I can't do anything else.

Boo to guilt.

I felt like this was applicable after last nights "exchange":


Friday, May 04, 2007

Ironic Karma

I swear to God...
And I really do. Shit is funny. It's good that I find it humorous, because it's the way it IS. If I didn't - lots more drinking than I already do, I think. That's all I'm saying.

So, it is a common trend, influenced by Murphy's Law, no doubt, that the minute you swear something off you are inundated with so many temptations Job would break. It never fails. At least with me anyway. It's how I know God has the kind of sense of humor I can appreciate.
Imagine. You swear off alcohol (like really swear it off, not how I do, where I don't consider wine and beer to actually count as alcohol) and next second your date's standing on your doorstep with a bottle of your favorite really hard to find wine. You just say no to chocolate (why would you DO that?) in all forms, and Mom makes you a chocolate ganache fudge cake with rasberry filling for your birthday...thanks Mom.

You have decided you need to abstain for awhile from any carnal activities, and suddenly everything male with a heartbeat is offering it up to you, including the dog that is humping your leg while you're standing on the street corner, dialing your therapist. You have frozen your credit card in three graduated levels of tupperware, and ALL of your favorite stores (if you're serious about shopping you have WAY more than one) are having incredible sales. On everything. All in your size. And it fits.

What can we say about will-power, and the constant tests of our temperament and resolve as soon as we cross our hearts and hope to die over anything? 'Cause you know something, somehow somewhere is going to prove whether or not you really mean it. I'm convinced God is waving at me from Heaven going, "Hi, remember me? The one you have to answer to eventually? Yeah, I think this is REAL funny, this you-think-you-actually-have-control-thing ya got going on down there. Good luck with that."

When I got to the point of respect; for myself, for those that I cared about, for life in general, bad things got easier to drop. Even when I was tempted. The temptation seemed more like a bother if anything "eck. This bores me. I am so done with all of this. Out of my face please." Of the things that I swear off but keep coming back to, it's all so perfectly comical to me now that I don't get upset anymore. I just laugh. A lot. And shake my head.

And thank God for my friends who have fake toenails. That tends to put things in perspective.

Well then. Looks like I may have met my match...natch. I mean, Murphy's is the law that I apply liberally to my life, right? It only makes sense!

P.S. -

Did you ever stop to think that the way I am may be a reaction to you? 'Cause I stop to think that all the time...

10 minutes before everyone gets into the office...

Hmmmm....OH! Jesus! Eyes!! SWOON, my GOD. I am such a sucker for light eyes in a tan face…oh, here we go again…

Do you know how many times I typed “backend of our system” today? And do you know that I giggled like Beavis every time that I did it? Backend…huh, huh, huh huh huh...

I enjoy behaving like a 10 year old, thank you. When I am stuffed in a "cube" for 12 hours a day, I find it refreshing. No one else does, but they can bite my butt. So there.

I don't think I am going to have anything cohesive to write, right now. There is nothing that is staying still long enough in my brain. Except for the fact that I am truly looking forward to busting my ass this week so that I can enjoy my time while Shawn is here this weekend. Shawn will be the good kind of fun and I can't wait!

MOVE!
Move, move, move MOVE!

You live in the fastest-paced city in the world, possibly in the entire UNIVERSE…if you cannot manage to walk/talk, blackberry, text message, put your make-up on, ready the paper, do a CROSS WORD PUZZLE, then put all of that junk in you big manhattanite purse/man bag/whatever and GET. TO. STEPPIN’! And listen, I realize that not everybody walks at the speed of a freight train, like I do. And I realize that some people have physical handicaps that slow them down, so steps and curbs and what not are harder for them. I get that. And I have patience for them, of course I do, they deserve that. But if you are in my way not so much because you are physically handicapped (or just happen to walk slower) but more consideration-aly or spatially challenged, then shift one foot to the side so that we can get around you, PLEASE. If it is the only thing that you contribute to this earth while you are here on it, I beg of you, MOVE!

When you are on stairs or in a narrow space (supermarkets isles in Manhattan are the bane of my existence) and need to slow down, pause, stop completely, wait until you clear the bottle neck so that other people can get by you! You are not the only person in the world…I thought I might point this out to you because it seems that you haven’t noticed. I swear to God, the next time someone stops to rifle in their bag at the foot of the stairway at the 23rd street station, I am going to just put my shoulder and all of my rage and frustration into knocking them right over. And I’m pretty sure I’m not even going to pause or look back, either. Might hold someone else up if I do. God for-freakin'-bid.

Damn.

No one ever praised me for my everyday patience, folks. Especially not at 7 a.m.

I sleep with your books under my pillow, hoping to absorb the spirit of their brilliance into my brain. I carry your pages around just under my skin; when I daydream, I like to imagine that I can peer through my milky, transparent skin and see the letters form the words form the sentences form the quotes that I draw my most piercing inspiration from. I envy you and your art, I envy you and your release, I envy your voice that has imparted itself in these words and is now immortally speaking to and touching people that don't even know you.

They may laugh, they may judge, and even worse, they may dismiss, but someday they may realize that they have physically been touched by you and they never knew, never knew who...what you were. Now they do. Now they most certainly do.

That envy - equal parts respect and awe, admiration and recognition - that your voice in my head creates in my heart is what make me so determined to do what I can that I can physically taste it...it's metallic, tastes like blood and it's starting now to overpower the flavor of my food. It is the single thing that drives me and makes me want to fight, to love and to laugh every single minute that I can because I know, through it all, that these things are what will give me my own voice to put in people's heads, so that they can never again underestimate who I am.

I just woke up. I love how even my body is now in on the "let's us sleep as an avoidance tactic" thing that my brain normally uses. I have so much to do it's epic, and yet I stay up until 4:30 am and sleep into the afternoon...but "stop being so hard on yourself, Kel. You're too hard on yourself."

Alrighty then.

I like how I am growing professionally, even though I am not sure this is the profession I want to settle in. I like how I am writing everyday and being more open (at least through my writing, that's a start, yeah?) I like how I don't really care anymore if what I am doing rubs you the wrong way; even if I am wrong...I like how I am learning that sometimes people make mistakes and sometimes other people forgive them for it. I like how I am giving myself more credit, and more respect and saying no to things that devalue who I am. I like that I am standing up for myself more and more.

And now I am ravenously hungry and need to go see if there is any food I like before I become the largest crank ass within a five block radius and kick someone in the ankle again.

Bless.

"So, cute boy that I met last Sat...is this sat going to be as fun as last?"

"Damn, well it will be for me, but prob not for u, b/c I'm out of town at an Alumni wknd in Providence. Can I get a raincheck for next wknd? Like ur style!"

OOOOhhhhhh m'goodness...

"Oh, did u think I was askin' u out, cocky? & not just curious abt the cute boy that belongs to the # I got lst wkend? Verry innteresting ;-)"

If he responds to that with style, I might have met my match...but probably not. Dying laughing, and wondering if I will ever be able to resist the urge to entertain myself. Probably not, tehehehehe...

And what the fuck is "Like ur style?"

Thoughts I had yesterday, in between bitching about college educated goobers:

Eeuu, the only child in my just reared her brattish head, jeez.

I find it odd and strangely comforting that painful, hurtful things make me feel better. It’s like being a cutter, only this time it’s just emotional and not physical. Which is why getting this tattoo might start me down an interesting path...

So I guess another sign of “Kelly very busy, grunt” is when she drops the last bite of her much needed (because they won’t let me drink at work) 3 Musketeers Bar on the floor while talking to someone in senior management and doesn’t even blink while she bends down, picks it up, blows it off mid-sentence and pops it in her mouth. I am such a world-class professional!

10 Minutes, everyday Amber. Because Mama Blake said so...


10 Things to look forward to this weekend (I am not really sure why I am throwing down with the lists, it might have something to do with the 12 hr days I've been working for the past two weeks and lack of brain capacity for anything else, I don't know...)

10. Sleep. I love sleep. I miss sleep. I am not really sure that sleep even remembers who I am.
9. Trying my damnedest to ignore a really strong urge and my natural instinct when it comes to said urge.
8. Cleaning my apartment. No seriously, I am looking forward to it because it looks like a cyclone has come through and I've lost the cat under piles of stuff more than once this week.
7. Writing for longer than ten minutes
6. Wandering, which I haven't had the time to do in a long time
5. Going to a party with a boy that I barely know and a bunch of people that I don't know at all - sounds like fun for me, right?
4. Figuring out where I'm going for the 30th b-day vacation
3. Figuring out what I'm going to do for the 30th b-day in New York, because you know there's gonna be a party
2. Seeing Rudy to get my hair did...god knows the mane needs to be tamed!
1. Sittin' on some babies.

I am sooo sleepy!

Ten Responses:

10. Really Dude? Really?!?
9. You are Lame.
8. Um, no. Nooooo....eh eh EH - just no!
7. Right, well, do feel better, darling. (said in a cockney accent)
6. You got dropped on you head when you were a baby, didn't you?
5. And you are?...?
4. Sunday was rough, huh? Pansy.
3. Such a waste. I mean, look at ya.
2. You're friend was funny - is he a moron too?
1. ....*Crickets*...

Yeah, I know. We all knew I was going with 1 before I even started this list. AS Ashley said "Cut and run, Kelly. Cut and run."

Cut the anchor rope and run before the wind. I freakin' love it!

Nerd.

Sunday, April 29, 2007
The house plant is giving me eyes...

Yes. Thank you for dinner.

Thinking that you want something, and knowing that it's wrong for a multitude of reasons, but being perfectly willing to do it anyway, usually comes to an end at some point in a person's life.
When you say to yourself "EVER-Y time that I do this, the end result is ALWAYS bad..." then you're either going to learn to stop doing it, or experience divine intervention, or DIE.

In my case, most of the bad habits that I insist upon perpetuating won't end tragically. Some things I learn to get better about, and some things God has given me signs about, in varying degrees of obviousness from the appearance of a butterfly to a flashing neon sign that says "hey MORON, knock it OFF", indicating that I should not keep doing what I am doing. What I find interesting about myself, and humanity in general for that matter, is how much we are willing to listen. Or not listen at all, to be concise. We stumble around in our lives trying to make the right choices, and trying to not get too upset over our mistakes.

There are some mistakes that are so easy to make, that feel so good, we just can't seem to get the point...BAD. And even if we do - "ah, what's this time gonna hurt? One more time is not gonna throw me too far off the path..." even when we know good and well that it does. Why? WHY do we do that?

I, for my part, am getting damn tired of feeling like a kid with a helmet, banging my head against the same wall over the same tired junk.

I think I'll take the helmet off. At this point, busting my head open or breaking my neck might just be the f-ing wake-up call that I need.

Friday, July 06, 2007

The Things That Make Me Happy:

Sunglasses, a bikini and my camera.
Rough waves...any waves, Starvin' Surfer at Stir-it-Up, the Monkeys, a happy baby, old crushes, Brown Ale, a brazen racoon and bare feet on hot sand.

A sketched out cat and an itty bitty teeny little dog who sounds like a herd of elephants and tries to gobble my nose, parallel parking, funny stories "remember when we did this?", watching the clouds pass while trying to absorb the sun, my infamous funny tan lines "I swear, you're just meant to be striped!" The half-moon making a trail across the water, practically crooking a finger to invite me to dream.

Blueberry picking and clever, funny kids who are growing so quickly, seeing a guy who now has enough patience to wait for me to settle down and look at him, talking to the woman who has made me cry more than any person on this earth, coffee in a go-mug because I don't have time to sit and drink it...
Grinning at my life. Resting my heart and soul with people who taught me how to be peaceful on the inside, not just trying to look peaceful by cloaking my face with a smile. Resting the same on the beach that is everything spiritual that I will ever need, and knowing that in the end, it is what I will always return to.