I woke up this morning to fog. I originally planned to follow Jon out the door after I played on his computer a bit (mine is sick), but now I think his bed is calling me. Cooooome to me Liz...you know you want to....cooooome to me. Come.
It's been a weird week. Things are looking up so I feel strong enough to vox. I literally wrote three different times since Tuesday and deleted them all. My propensity to be guarded is a detriment to my sanity. That's what I'm learning. The few times I've been upset about something, it vanishes once I talk to Jon about it. Still, I try to hold out in hopes it'll go away. Why you ask? Well, saying outloud that anything bothers me means that stuff bothers me. Simply, I don't want to be bothered, I don't want to admit that I'm bothered. I want to be nothing but happiness and good times. Secondly in regards to Jon, I fear that complacency when the newness of love wears off and normalcy sets in. It's strange that I want to see myself as being emotionless. It's silly to think that Jon and I could ever really be complacent- the adventure junkies we are (I even mentioned last night that I imagine my adventure increasing a tad more once I graduate. Moving sounds very appealing to me. Who knows where...). Once I let it out, I feel so relieved...and also a little embarrassed. I'm learning. We both are. My challenge is going to be accepting my emotions and trying to communicate them immediately.
Nothing was really wrong this week, mind you, except for this girly brain stuff that hits from time to time. Your brain is a big, fat liar in case you didn't know. It loves to trick you, spin you around, create doubt and worry, try and make you ask unanswerable questions, or project unrealistically into some unknown future when the reality is you may die today. Morbid, yes. True, yes. Always there is a part of you that knows your brain is lying. Sometimes, if you're conscious of it, you can recognize it and it subsides quickly. Sometimes people accept the lie...they want the lie. It proves that the world is unfair and that things outside themselves are responsible for their misery. That is NEVER true.
In other news, big weekend coming up. I have to finish my shopping, Friday night there is the option of seeing two bands and attending a party, but I may not do that as I have to work Saturday morning. Sunday is cooking and the Trudy's Holiday Party. Monday is working and Hanukkah party. Tuesday nothing (day of rest). Wednesday drive to Dallas for Christmas. Driving back Thursday. Probably working Thursday night. Then the next weekend we're off to Arkansas to see Dad. A couple of weeks after that I start school again. Hope I can arrange a great schedule this time. Hmmm...must think of a New Years resolution........
It's been a long time since I was in a mosh pit. Ever since the Nine Inch Nails incident in the 9th grade (crazed mosh pit on ice, drugged up friend needing a rescue, random drugged up dude punching me), I've avoided those things. This one was fairly tame by comparison. The guys in Fishbone have a ska/reggae/punk feel and are all in their mid to upper 40's. They still have the energy of 20-year-olds. The crowd just absorbed it, sending back it's own energy in kind. Jon, Kristen, and I were doing a little dancing near the front row early on in the set when the singer decided to stage dive. The crowd went insane and never recovered. I was immediately separated from Jon by the swell of people invading the front of the stage. I had a choice to make: either make my way to the back where sanity prevailed, or get my spot back. These guys had ripped me from my spot at the foot of the stage and I wasn't about to let them get away with it. I pushed my way back to it, wedged myself into a tiny spot, and joined the insanity. This life gives you very little opportunity to be swept up in such energy-I had to join. The fans were like the rising and falling tide of the sea, pushing against the front in a dramatic sway, and falling backwards hoping someone would catch them. I maintained my foothold. My fellow front of stagers had my back and I had theirs. When a diving idiot kicked me in the face and I lost my balance, my dredlock friend pulled me upright. When someone tried to dislodge my dredlock friend, I pulled him back to his place. The only real annoyance I had was with two guys who decided to use the mosh pit as an excuse to rub against me. You can tell the difference. Someone moshing uses their upper body to push, these guys used their crotches. It got to the point that I was being hurled against the stage most violently, almost doubling over on to it. But I wasn't giving up my spot, damn it. I pushed back with my elbow, yelled at them to get off me, fought. Luckily, Jon saw what was happening and got right behind me the play defense. It made me happy. I have never been protected before and though I'm not quite used to it, I'm grateful. Of course, the humping stopped immediately. At some point, while I was still adrenaline junky, Jon was ready to go back to sanity. I was too, though there was this egoic need to keep my spot. The spot that I fought for-that I struggled for, until the end of the show. Then I realized I was being silly and joined him and Kristen at the bar.
Life of me. Oh me Oh Life....
Newnesseseseses?
Presently, I have a Beyonce (oops...Sasha Fierce, that is) song in my head. The repeating line: "If you like it than you should've put a ring on it." Really it's the video that's taken over my brain. The song is catchy though uncomfortably marriage forward...but I want to learn that freakin dance.
Presently, I am sitting in the computer lab at school listening to a group practice a spanish presentation. I can't understand it except that it seems to be regarding Shakira. Ola. No mi gusta Shakira. Shakira es muy estupido.
Presently, I have braces. I was able to actually eat a bagel today!!! That's amazing. And it wasn't even disgusting to eat! I never realized how gross eating is in general. I hate eating right now. It's such a pain.
Presently, I have a lot of love in my life. I am astounded and supremely grateful.
Presently, I live with my friend Jen Tran whose 3 legged Shitzu continuously tries to kill my 80lb lab. It's a funny sight.
Presently, I am exhausted and waiting for my last class to begin. I have a lot of work to do tonight to get ready for my tests.
Presently, I am worried and also fed up with my mom. She is having a hard time with the holidays. understandable. But she has taken to bursting into tears and hanging up on me. I suggested grief conselling. I think I can get her to agree.
Presently, I am impressed with Jon's amazing drive to get what he wants out of this life. It is inspiring to ultra laid back me.
Presently, I am excited to become an aunt. Miss Taylor has grown quite large in mama Mindy's belly.
Presently, I miss my Dallas friends. I miss Sara and Liz. I miss Brett. I miss Heather. I miss my Dad.
Presently, I am so excited to travel to California. Though I did reach out to Jeremy again because I felt weird going there without him aware of my presence--though he is in LA. No response. We shall see. I wish he would get over this. Not sure if it's about me, but it seems strange that since Jon came into my life, Jer is giving me the cold shoulder. I sincerely hope it's not a jealousy thing because that would be retarded.
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Today is the beginning of a new month. Would it be alright if I treated the first of November as if it were the first of January? There is something so seductive yet eternally flimsy about the idea of starting over. There is no way to start over. You are who you are. That year, that month, that week, that weekend, that day happened and there's no going back. Change occurred, whether immediately beneficial or a late bloomer, and you have to deal with it. I'm a believer that all change is essentially good even though it is not always evident. Sometimes change steps forward from behind the dark and awkward cloud of circumstance. Sometimes it's outright traumatic. Then the change changes. Do me a favor...tell me this minute that I am not the same person as I was 10 minutes ago. The clouds have moved since then, then sun exudes a different level of light, my thoughts are water one minute, ice the next, then steam, then evaporated drops so small that I can only perceive them through touch. They form clouds, they rain, they mix with other atmospheres either strengthening or weakening the level of the storm, or they add to the density of the serene puff of pure white...upon what? What? MY command. Upon my command they break with the front, the Gulf Stream. Upon my command they peak, they valley, they flood, they are ever so still and quiet. Upon my command changing tides reach out to touch my feet, or quickly recede in horror. Upon my command the happiest typhoon runs merrily off into the night leaving the debris of my thoughts in it's wake....a cleansing. As it is, As it was...Once upon a time- I was a child. I was a scared child. I was an imaginative child. I was a child who read and wrote stories. I was a child who wanted to be friends. I was a child who listened for her father's snoring in the dead of night. I was a scared child. Once upon a time- I was a teen. I was a mischievous teen. I was a teen who wrote dark poetry and smoked her mother's old cigarette butts. I was a teen who loved the Beatles, Leonard Cohen, Janis Joplin, The Cure, Beavis and Butthead ( but NOT Ren and Stimpy), Bob Dylan, Led Zepplin, The Who, Pink Floyd, and theater. I was a teen who had a lot of friends, who played, who danced, who sang. I was a teen who interfered, who loved her, who opposed drugs but ironically not alcohol. I was a scared teen. Once upon a time- I was a POW-a prisoner of wife. I was a wife who watched TV-What not to Wear, Dr. Phil, Bewitched, The Price is Right, Lost, Seinfeld, Friends, Home Improvement, The Simpsons, Project Runway, America's Next Top Model. I was a wife who came home to an alcoholic husband who worshiped her. I was a wife who received presents, accolades, compliments, pedestals, grapes, poems, songs, post its, freedom. I was a wife in a martyred role as if given to me from the Director of the eternal universe. I was a miserable wife, a wretched wife, an exemplary wife, screaming to get out from the depths of my prison. I was a scared wife. Once upon a time- I was a divorcee. I was a scared divorcee. I was a divorcee who received looks, pats, nudges, nods, sympathy, acknowledgment, the once over, talks, drugs, gifts, scents, wonder, worry, distaste, encouragement, money. I was a divorcee who saw the mirror, saw the heart, felt the spirit, felt the love. I was a divorcee happily trembling in my freedom, laughing, mingling, experiencing, learning, being with me, myself, and I...I was the happiest divorcee. I am- One soul. One heart. One mind. One nose. One mouth. Two eyes. Two arms. Two legs. Two hemispheres. One woman. One girl. One human. One nothing. I am- A student. A sister. A daughter. A girlfriend. A friend. A lover. A slinger. A dancer. A mystery. An afterthought. A complication. A need. A belief. A breath of air-here and gone. A stroke of luck. A superstition. An illusion. A revelation. I am- Intense. Incorrigible. Impervious. Insatiable. Instinctual. Inseparable. Independent. In demand. Involved. In my head. In my feet. In my stomach. In a room. In a house. On a street. In Austin. In Texas. In the USA. In the west. Above the equator. On Earth. Around the sun. In the milky way. In the universe. In love. In life. In LOVE. In LIFE. Here. |
I've made some progress in school. Due to the cicumstances of Goggie passing away, I had to drop my Spanish class. Is that a dangling modifier in the previous sentence? I just took a test on grammer yesterday. I got the participle, infinitive, noun clause, prepositional phrase down. I know how to punctuate direct quotes. I know that it's fewer people instead of less people. But the damn dangling and misplaced modifier has me stumped. I just can't see them! Ugh. I digress.
So I'm trying to come up with a todo list which is turning out to be a bit overwhelming. At the same time, I'm fighting feelings of anger towards Abby who recently told me she's moving out. I was counting on her being here a year. Now my finances have become these huge goons that are putting a painful squeeze on me. While the buddhist tendencies in me know that I am taking this personally when I should have acceptance, I still feel like I got shit on. It's a hard one to shake. So...here we go
- bicuspids extraction-$800 (call oral surgeon for price comparrison)
- Braces-$5500($2200 down = $160 a month)
- Get cavity filled-Oct 29th 1pm
- Pay off citibank card-$400
- adjust phone bill. Right now its at $95
- New glasses-$300
New tires-$350- New place to live-just can't afford my awesome apt anymore. Too pricey for a girl and her dog. $625 a month vs $850. It'll help. Dec 1st hopefully
- New job-mine is not even coming close to paying the bills. I may have to make some sacrafices here (such as working until 4am on the weekends and barely ever seeing Jon) and I'm not sure I'm willing to. Buying myself some time to think about this one.
So it is quite forminable if you ask me. On step at a time I always say. So right now I'm directing focus towards my teeth and a new place. I'll think about the rest later.
Why do people (particularly women) feel the need to have the "talk"?
Here's the deal
It's a broken question that no one could possibly provide an answer for. First of all, you are making your relationship out to be some kind of transportation device that might propell you somewhere. Where do you need to be propelled when your life is happening right now? It's this intense future thinking of maybe possibly one day getting hurt...or getting married...that causes an unrealistic demand for some sort of future prediction from your love interest. Secondly, it's a lie. You are fully aware that you could never receive a true answer. It's impossible. What you're really trying to ask when you say "where is this going" is do you love me? But, you are sooo scared to ask the real question simply because most of the time being "in love" is addictive and co-dependant and therefore ends. There is such a fear around that word love as if it carries vast implications, yet it has no walls in its true form.
Suck it up and ask the real questions. Every time you feel the need to do that whole talking business-ask the real questions.
Relationships with ANYONE are indefinable. It's a feeling. Stop trying to box it up people. Just live already!!!!
Liz
The past couple of years, pretty much since I became interested in Buddhism, I have developed a distaste for talking shit. It doesn't mean I don't talk some mad shit every now and again...but now I feel the need to say something nice immediately or add some other sort of disclaimer. The result is my wit, my writing has suffered. I don't think we realize how much we rely on bringing other people down in order to boost our silly little 5 year old egos. For a while I fought this seemingly innate desire for trash talkin with all the gusto of a seasoned justifier. Problem is, it only further increased my already inflated ego: "look how freakin cool I am. Oh yee of little mind; you're a dispicable, gossipy fiend. Whereas I...I do not lower myself in such ways." In acknowledgement that this is, in fact, worse than being a shit talker; I decided to embrace and even befriend my ego...that way I am able to reason with it. Example from today:
Ego: Look at that dude over there. He's actually eating Cheetos with a spoon! Ridiculous.
Me: Well, dear ego, think about the last time we ate Cheetos. It was a mess! It ended up all over our clothes and no amount of finger sucking will get the remenants off our fingers. Maybe he's got something there....
Ego: Wow...you're totally right. My bad. Carry on in a non-judgemental fashion.
The result is that I have the urge to buy some Cheetos and try out the spoon. I could be the next George Castanza!
Even though it was such a long day, I have no desire to go to sleep yet. I'm operating purely on the fumes of delirium.
Gotta say, it's been an off month. I feel like I'm standing outside of my own skin trying so desperately to sink back into my life that I'm skipping valuable steps. Things change. And what a different mixture of the good and the sad, good stress and bad stress, change and rearrange. Yesterday, I was so overwhelmed by the thought of a Spanish test that I started sobbing. I just laid my head on my book and cried for a good two hours. It all came out at once-Goggie being gone, being behind in school, work, trying to keep up with friends and balance in fun, wanting to spend time with Jon getting to know him in this real way vs just the phone, knowing my doggie needs to be walked more often and needs those nails trimmed, all the way down to the fact that I must clean out my car. Everything stopped when Goggie got sick. So now it's time to get back into my routine. My diet and exercise routine which will be jump started by the ability to run outside again. My coffee shop studying routine. I'm excited to feel like myself again...especially now that Jon's settled in and I no longer feel like I'm on vacation since he's around.
I'm lovin him being here, by the way. It's just so easy and comfortable. I can completely be myself. I'm not constantly wondering if either of us will lose interest. I'm not filled with all this needless worry or insecurity. It makes me wonder if people unnecessarily complicate their lives, their friendships, all their relationships with other people to the point of insanity. Or am I naive? Who knows? All I know is that I have an amazing physical, emotional, spiritual connection with this person, I'm happy, and I'm having a blast. It's nice watching everything unfold in supreme confidence.
Alright...I'm finally sleepy. Night world of the vox.
Here's what I want...in a nut shell. (Ya know, every freakin time I want to use that phrase now I think of Austin Powers miming actually being inside a nut shell. hahaha!)
I want to do well in school. Numero uno. HOWEVER, I want a life as well. There has to be a balance, right? Mindy and I had a conversation tonight about how we just aren't as young as we used to be. 5 years ago I would have been able to barely sleep all week hanging out with Jon while studying and working on the side, and have zero problems getting up in the morning to do it all again. Now? I'm exhausted and a little sick. All I can think about is crawling under the covers of my bed and sleeping for a couple of days. Even after my 3 hour nap today.
I want to have some sort of routine. By day. By week. Here's what I picture in my head. Getting up at around 6am most days. Putting on the coffee and immediately taking Sara out for a walk. Come back and do morning yoga/meditation. Do a little homework while eating breakfast and drinking coffee. From there either go to the gym or go to work. If I work, hit the gym on the way home. Same if I go to school. Only go out if I finish my homework. I want to go to meditation classes. I want to study Buddhism.
I want to run. I want to run the capitol 10k this year in March. I want to join a training group and get ready for it.
I want to see more live music. I want to see more plays. More art. Stimulate my mind.
There's more but I can't keep my eyes open. Dallas tomorrow. It's the party in celebration of Goggie's life. I hope it really is something I can hold to me as a good and positive memory and not the kind of thing that makes me want to bang my head against a brick wall until I can no longer hear the nonsense.
I'm having a really hard time writing today. First I thought I could write this whole thing about death; and how natural it is; and how you must embrace it; and how you shouldn't smoke; and how dying from lung cancer is close to drowning; and how most people site drowning as their most feared death; and how she was really cool; and how she told me that she was glad I divorced Tommy; and how precious it was to be with her through that moment of letting go as she decided to become something else entirely.
Or I was going to write about my mom; and how she and the rest of my family are dealing with Goggie's death; and how she called me this morning and said "Why the fuck aren't you here"; and how apparently she feels that Emily and Marti gang up on her and talk about her behind her back; and how she thinks I am the only person on her side; and how I explained to her that she is paranoid and needs to accept other people for who they are and that they are going to deal with this differently; and how everyone is on everyone's side; and how emotions are running high over there; and how it's important to not take anything personally; and how apparently she and Emily got into a fight; and how mom doesn't understand why she can't talk to Emily like she talks to me; and how i explained it was because she approached the conversation with Emily completely wrong by saying something confrontation and rude instead of using "I" language; and how she needs to let Emily and I have our own relationship with our Aunt that has nothing to do with her instead of feeling like she isn't included; and how Aunt Marti is grandiose just like Goggie was and it drives Mom crazy; and how I reminded Mom that she has some less than desirable Goggie-like traits herself; and how I feel this need to send her a letter mapping out everything she is doing to push Emily and I away and make us not ever want to come home; and how I won't do it because I will not play the mediator or caretaker role anymore (and she wouldn't realize it anyway); and how she really needs therapy; and how Mom is such an injured bird; and how she is so insecure, depressed, surrounds herself with abuse of all kinds, continuously tries to destroy herself in any way she can; and how sad it is because she can be so amazing, fun, hilarious, wicked intelligent, wise, and there is just really no one quite like her; and how I can not help her nor allow it to effect my life; and how I will be there and love her and stay in this family but I will not participate in the poisonous parts; and how poison is a choice you make not inherent; and how the only thing I can do is live well as I see it and maybe some of it will rub off on her.
Or I was going to write about how I have become open to the idea of love over this last year; and how I don't necessarily mean romantic love; and how romantic love is an island whole unto itself that can make you feel utterly invincible, completely off balance, as if you were in a constant state of song, where joy seems to drip from your pores saturating the world; but how romantic love cannot exist without the vast sea of the thing itself surrounding it, that almost alive being, the breath of life: the thing that drives a person to create, that makes you reach out to a family member even when they are being a total asshole, that makes you question, notice beauty, feel alive in yourself, embrace the nameless connection with fellow humans, the thing that caused whoever it was to erect a papier-mâché statue to the homeless man Jerry when we all thought he was dead, the thing that makes me wake up to sunlight everyday and dance in the living room with my doggie, the thing that makes you forgive, let go, move on, move up, move out, move away, move, change, the thing that is even there at your worst moments whispering to you that these are the times when you are most alive and that you must be thankful; and how it isn't that I didn't have romantic love for my ex, but that it was the wrong kind of love, dependant, addictive, attached; and how it was the kind of love constantly marred by a nameless fear...destructive; and how realizing that this larger love of all things is vastly more important will make you whole in yourself, cause you to cease basing your life on finding the husband, the child, the house with the white picket fence, and will set you free; and how say that whole romance thing comes along--you will be able to love them all in a real way, with certainty in yourself.
So this is the nut shell of my life. My thoughts. My underbelly.
Liz
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