tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63733327374104838242024-03-21T20:59:55.739-07:00...but i have to.nothing worth doing is ever easyellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-34243354844469844282010-12-09T23:37:00.000-08:002010-12-09T23:37:01.697-08:00finally homeI'm taking the leap. It is overwhelming and scary and huge... but I feel fine. I'm not in any of this alone.<br />
<br />
<i>boy i hear you in my dreams / i feel your whisper across the sea</i><br />
<br />
It has been a habit of mine for the past couple years to assume that everything ends. And, because everything ends, I assume that there is no point in making a beginning. This mentality made for some really miserable days and some unbelievably magical ones. I wouldn't change a thing about any of it. The tears and the smiles were all worth whatever struggle they came with. But... (yes, there is always a but)<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<i>i keep you with me in my heart / you make it easier when life gets hard</i><br />
<br />
I'm not dooming this with an end. I'm thinking as far to forever as I possibly can. Granted, for me forever right now could be anything from a day to 50 years; I'm not exactly stable. Luckily, he knows. He has known for a year. He has waited for me to be ready. He's put in more effort than I know, and all based on his belief that I'm worth it. I don't even know if I'm worth it. For some reason he does, and I can't explain how different that feels. He understands that I'm volatile and not exactly all in one piece, and for whatever reason, he's willing to deal with that. He wants to deal with me, wake up to me, flaws and all. For the foreseeable forever.<br />
<br />
<i>as the world keeps spinning round / you hold me right here right now</i><br />
<br />
While I'm moving, and starting new jobs, and crying in my room at night over the uncontrollable loneliness I've come down with, he's there. For better or for worse.<br />
Please don't let me screw this up.<br />
L<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>*lyrics from Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait's Lucky</i></span>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-52325250270193847112010-11-15T00:41:00.000-08:002010-11-15T00:47:44.733-08:00the view from hereAll I can hope for is someone to love me. I want that love to be as I imagine it-- a little bit selfish, but undying; all mine, committed and proven; safe, but not the easy way. I want him to be who I call on my way home for the night, although I need not spend every night with him. I want the honeymoon phase, but I want it to last the rest of my life, not just a really intense 3 weeks of perfection. For all normal purposes, I have unreasonable standards.<br />
<br />
<i>I just want someone to say to me... </i><br />
<br />
I tested the grass on the other side. It was a let down. I remembered what it was like to be ignored and to battle for passive attention. I want the attention to be mine, all mine, all the time. I don't like having to fight for it. And knowing I've been passed off to a wingman is just not something I can handle. I need the alpha, and I need to know that I'm the alpha. But there is something to be said for hopping to the other side. It is a potent reminder of how wonderful your side is.<br />
<br />
<i>I'll always be there when you wake... </i><br />
<br />
As far as I can tell, he wants me. He wants to love me in a somewhat selfish way, that is mostly for me but entirely for him. He is happy to see me, to talk to me, to know me. He might even need me if he'd let himself think so. (And he won't. I wouldn't. Can't blame him.) We are both stubborn and self-assured. We both want to be right, and we both win our arguments. We should clash instantly, but he lets me slide for being me. He likes me for being me. Me. This is new and unusual ground. I'm talking more about myself than about him. I'm more challenged by his appreciation for me than by his disregard for me. It is new territory. He likes me more than I like him. But every glance to the other side reminds me that I like him more than I admit that I do.<br />
<br />
<i>So stay with me and I'll have it made. </i><br />
<br />
Whether I want to admit it or not, I have really hit something good here. Now lets all put our heads down and pray that I don't fuck it up.<br />
I have such a tendency to fuck things up.<br />
L<br />
<br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Lyrics from Blind Melon's No Rain </span></i>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-71340201005076943502010-11-13T14:15:00.000-08:002010-11-13T14:17:14.030-08:00prepare for the let downWanna feel bad about yourself?<br />
No?<br />
How about feel great for 20 minutes, pumped, excited, invigorated, psyched about all the potential there is in the world and your future?<br />
Yes!<br />
Okay. That followed by feeling bad about yourself?<br />
Eh, sure.<br />
GO TO THE MOVIES.<br />
<br />
It is entirely too common for me to leave a movie theater feeling unbelievably good about life. I call my mom and thank her for being so amazing. I call friends and tell them how awesome I think they are and how much fun I have with them. I promise myself I will finish my projects. I promise other people that I will finish projects. Not by some future deadline, no, I will do it today! I'm on it! I'm feeling GREAT about life!<br />
And then I get home, sit in front of the TV, and realize that the chick in the movie did amazing things in a 2 hour time span, and in the next 2 hours all I will accomplish is maybe finishing what's left of my movie-large diet coke.<br />
<br />
Moral of this story is don't get too sucked into the movie-excitement. They play those songs that get you feeling feelings and promising promises, and dammit, you didn't make $200,000 like the chick on screen did. You <i>paid</i> at least $5.50. Enjoy the psych, but save some diet coke for the let down. It's hard to handle both losing your sense of impending accomplishment <i>and</i> running out of soda.<br />
<br />
Trust me. I promise.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-41204956936985553372010-11-11T22:30:00.000-08:002010-11-11T22:30:25.735-08:00punching people in supermarketsI talk a lot. But when it matters, I do not talk enough. Instead, I act out in my own special ways. I feel like I'm out of control. Okay, I have command over my living situation. Over my money. Over my job. But the issue is that I have no control at all over what I say under the influence of affection. I have no control over myself when faced with monogamy. I'm up, and I'm down, and I'm happy, and then I'm all over the place. And since I have no apparent outlet for the fear welling up in my mind, I rebel wherever I can find the opportunity. <div><br />
</div><div><i>But I love you more than words can say</i></div><div><i>I can't count the reasons I should stay </i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>It seems entirely too possible that the reason I can't trust anyone is because I don't think I could trust myself. I don't mean to hurt anyone, but I end up punching people in supermarkets far too often. (It's a metaphor. Root: Parenthood. Watch it on Tuesday nights.) I can't find a way to rationally express the fear/anxiety/weakness I have in and around relationships, so I subconsciously try to sabotage them. I don't realize what I'm doing, or I do and I don't do anything about it. But if I'm fighting it, then maybe it is meant to be fought. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i>I can't count the reasons I should stay</i><i> </i></div><div><i>One by one they all just fade away</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>This time I'm not going to be able to fight my way out. He has waited for me. And he will wait for me. And he is genuinely interested in being committed to me. Me. And I'd be lying if I said that was easy to understand. That puts on a lot of pressure. It is a wonderful thing to be reminded that I'm worth something to someone, but all that build up makes the fall so much further when I mess it up. I have to be better than myself. I have to be stronger than myself, more capable than myself, more reliable than myself. He knows me, he knows me well, and he puts up with my idiosyncrasies. No questions asked. Generally when I screw up, he smiles like he knew it was coming, kisses me and says something reassuring. Because he does know its coming. He does know me. So he has to know I'm having trouble with all this. But for the life of me I don't know how to put it into words. </div><div>I've got to figure it out. And stop trying to ruin everything good that happens. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i>One by one they all just fade away</i></div><div><i>But I love you more than words can say </i></div><div><br />
</div><div>I can't just go around punching people in supermarkets. </div><div>L</div><div><br />
</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Lyrics from The 88's At Least It Was Here</span></i></div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-69309720734324119042010-11-07T20:56:00.000-08:002011-07-27T23:56:08.556-07:00if, thenI had a conversation with someone at work the other day about girls who feel the need to check their man's text messages. My overall feeling is that if you need to check their texts, there is no trust, and the relationship is over. Done and done.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>In high school, I checked texts. I moderated phone calls. I<i> </i>was <i>that</i> girl. </div><div>And that relationship ended in a long, drawn out, overly public, powerfully painful way. My ignorance to the importance of trust led me into years of crying myself to sleep-- which led to some really excellent writing, but thats another discussion. </div><div><br />
</div><div>With J, I did not check texts. I was suspicious once, and that passed. Trust prevailed.</div><div>And that relationship ended in one quick blow followed by 2 uncomfortable weeks of packing and uncertainty. We were a rock in the trust category, but it still ended up down the drain. (Interesting that our break up took place in a bathroom? I don't think I've ever fully thought about how funny that location choice really is.) </div><div><br />
</div><div>Checking a text on C's phone is what ended our official relationship. It would have ended no matter what I found; the fact that I worried enough to check was reason enough to end it. But I found something I didn't want to. </div><div>And that relationship officially ended in a splash of tears. Yes, we dragged out the together-not together saga for a year after, but the titles on the relationship dropped that night. If I don't trust you, there can't be any title that says I do.<br />
<br />
So far we've learned that whether or not I check texts, the relationship ends. As a general rule, the relationship lasts longer when I do not check texts. Trust is a solid foundation. </div><div><br />
</div><div>And now I'm in the beginning of a situation: Tonight, just for a minute, I wanted to check. I didn't, and I'm not going to; nothing is that important. But I worry that there is something there. I worry because I know for a fact that I sent him texts at one point that were a worry for someone else. And if my texts were reciprocated then, what's stopping him from answering someone else's similarly relationship-threatening texts now? </div><div>If once, then always. </div><div>Once, always. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Done and done. </div><div>L</div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-85103643016466588812010-11-04T00:02:00.000-07:002010-11-04T00:02:32.130-07:00sleeplessI think I'll know when I find 'the one'- or at least the next real thing- when I stop thinking of C as I'm trying to sleep.<br />
(Until then, thank you for giving me such difficult sleep cycles. It certainly is hard to get to sleep while I'm thinking about missing you, but the dreams are awfully wonderful.)<br />
Sweet dreams.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-19306705362836761962010-11-01T01:13:00.000-07:002010-11-01T01:16:21.697-07:00freaks come out at nightHalloween on a Sunday means 3 days of Halloween. Friday: work Halloween, club/dancing Halloween. Saturday: day 1 Halloween hangover, party Halloween, pub crawl Halloween. Sunday: day 2 Halloween hangover, football Halloween, children's Halloween.<br />
<br />
I dislike so much about this holiday. I strongly dislike the word Halloween (possibly because I've typed it so many times in the past minute?). But mostly I've just always hated being scared. This whole holiday is about embracing fear-- walk into a maze made of thick wheat where no one can hear me scream or find me to help? sure! go into a dark house where nightmares jump out at me in an effort to make me cry? of course!!-- and I'm just not the type to go along with that. But, I am not the one to fight a good time. I celebrated the holiday this year, like most, with the best of them.<br />
<br />
I faced quite a few fears Saturday. 3 were noteworthy:<br />
<br />
1. My costume. I dressed as my worst fear. I was a very subtle, non-threatening version of said fear, but I did it. I made myself into a dinosaur. And wouldn't you know it, as I'm walking down the steps from my front porch, my first official act after putting on my dino-sweatshirt and dino-shoes was my misguided step onto a snail. Killed the poor thing. Really just reaffirmed my fear- dinosaurs will kill anything smaller than them. Fear faced, and still firmly in place.<br />
<br />
2. Talked to C. I haven't talked to him in about 2 months. I let him fall off my radar, and I fell off his. For the better, as you'll all agree, since that relationship was literally drug-like. Early in the night, a bar was showing a movie that was one of C's favorites. I texted him to say hi, and that his movie was on. We chatted on and off the rest of the night. I am proud to say that I did NOT get into a cab to go see him. I did NOT invite him over. I did NOT ask him what he was doing later, tomorrow, this week, ever. And I don't feel like I need to. I had a friendly, platonic, non-confrontational interaction with one of the loves of my life. Fear faced, and conquered.<br />
<br />
3. Commitment issues, like whoa. I scare easy, in the corn-maze way and the relationship way. This weekend brought it out in me. I was looking for sneak exits in every establishment. Never took a sneaky way out, stayed with who I was there with, but WOW did I feel my mind scoping for escape routes. (Maybe that is what urged me to text C in the first place?). BUT I didn't run. Still here. Shaking in my boots and definitely more a flight risk now than ever before, but still here. Fear faced, and acknowledged.<br />
<br />
To summarize: I'm afraid of dinosaurs stepping on me. I can still love C, but not be a raving lunatic clamoring for his attention. The thought of being tied to anyone makes me <i>literally</i> want to run away.<br />
<br />
Facing fears doesn't always mean conquering them. Unfortunate, cos I'm just going to have to keep facing them until they go away.<br />
Maybe just once a year, though.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-34034049830569256762010-09-16T17:52:00.000-07:002010-09-16T17:55:01.636-07:00literally biting the hand that feedsI cancelled another date. It's becoming a serious problem. 9 out of 10 times this doesn't bother me, because once the date is cancelled I rarely have to see the guy again, other than the random run-ins on J street on drunken Friday nights, but this time it is one of those exceptions. An exception that I fall into more often than I'd like.<br />
I can officially say "Oops, I did it again."<br />
<br />
Since I've been single in midtown, I've gotten attached to quite a few watering holes. Ahem. I've gotten attached to one spot at a time. What makes me leave one pseudo-home for the next one? I tend to date the help. Or, as is my way, make dates and then cancel them, and in order to avoid awkwardness, find a new place to hang out.<br />
<br />
This was my first venturing outside of the "bartender"type. The date I cancelled this week was with an executive chef! I thought by getting out from behind the bar I might be making a step in the right direction. The though has merit... but my follow through is severely lacking. There goes my late-night-taco stop, my mid-afternoon-burger joint, my Sunday-funday hangout. I'd rather find a new bar than deal with that awkwardness.<br />
<br />
From now on I only <s>date</s> make dates with people who work in bars I severely dislike. Thats the right moral to get from this story, right?<br />
...right?<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-33519044562454170232010-08-10T14:44:00.000-07:002010-08-10T14:44:43.140-07:00pushToday I was told that I date like my mother. This was intended as a compliment. <div><br />
</div><div>There are so many nice, good, quality guys out there that I've shut down because I'm quick to judge and committed to my decisions. Not second guessing myself, not at all, but wondering why there are so many nice guys I don't want, and so few that I do. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Can't push away someone who is already running. </div><div>Running toward...?</div><div>L</div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-1810327731633449102010-08-08T07:56:00.000-07:002010-08-08T07:57:26.742-07:00just one pieceThought it was over, didn't you. Sorry for the tease.<br />
<br />
<i>You've already broken my heart </i><br />
<br />
Made huge steps this month without you. Pictured life without you and survived completely. Was pretty sure you were gone for good. I mentally started packing our memory box away for closet storage. All I needed was closure. Give me back my keys and make that graceful exit I know you can make.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I'd like to keep at least one piece </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Seems like you can't go quietly. Content to let me fidget and forget and force moving on, but then you sneak back under my skin. It wasn't difficult. You didn't need to be a magician. I could've used some powers to shield myself, but we both know I can't fight the cravings once you wake them up. And somewhere between sunset on Friday and 4 am Sunday- Hello Sunshine.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>You can take all that you want </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Wasting no time. You work quickly when there's something on the line, something at stake. Wonder what it is this time? We're starting again like the first time- like the very beginning. Flirting in text messages from completely separate geographic locations. Couldn't see you now if I tried. Makes the words stronger. Makes me more vulnerable. Not complaining.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>But you're gonna have to share it with me. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Chances aren't going to run out for you. I've got an unlimited supply stored up. As long as I wake up smiling after just thinking about you in dreams, you can keep coming around. Please do. But watch your step. I wiped the slate clean this month, so try not to mess it up too quickly. Don't abuse your power.<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Share it with me, just one piece. </i><br />
L<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*Lyrics from Family Force 5's Share It With Me </i></span>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-26368996846333133862010-08-02T15:29:00.000-07:002010-08-02T15:29:02.269-07:00who/whomYou text me and I light up. <div>You text me something I don't like and my day becomes wreckage. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Why am I the object in these sentences? </div><div>I let you control too much. </div><div>L </div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-24197614313891660722010-07-26T00:35:00.000-07:002010-07-26T00:39:29.574-07:00trying to be fearlessSome of my fears are irrational. I've got a terrible fear of dinosaurs-- specifically re-creations that look realistic, movies that suggest they could come back, not-so realistic representations that show up when I least expect them. I used to be so afraid of the shower drain that I made my little sister stay in the bathroom with me whenever I took a shower. I'm afraid of large bodies of water through which I cannot see. If the bottom is visible, I'm good anywhere. One piece of seaweed grabs my unsuspecting leg, though, and I'm out. I've had these fears for as long as I can remember. I'm making some progress on conquering them, but there will always be something terrifying to me about dinosaurs, shower drains, and murky water.<br />
<br />
When I was a teenager, I thought I was scared of rejection. I thought the feeling keeping me in unhappy relationships and stopping me from trying harder and putting myself out there was a fear of being rejected. I got rejected. Multiple times. Now, years later, I've been rejected more times than I can count. It's not a fear of rejection, and it never was. It's just a normal dislike for rejection. The fear is behind it. The fear is of being rejected to the point where I become, ultimately, in all aspects of my life, alone.<br />
<br />
The next step in my life requires me to face loneliness. Not just being alone, being away from family and friends, being far from everything I know and have come to count on, but being completely and totally lonely. I am walking into this knowing full well that I will cry myself to sleep for a while, and that it will be a long long while before someone comes around to clean up the mess. I'm not expecting anyone to clean it up, honestly. I am expecting tear-soaked pillows for the foreseeable future.<br />
<br />
Every piece of the potential next step sounds like it could be a wonderful adventure. I'll learn more about me, about what I want to do with my life, about what I am capable of, and of course, what I'm not capable of. But I'm doing it alone. I'm trying to frame loneliness as part of the adventure... but this is a tough one, even for me. I can't let my fear of complete loneliness keep me from moving forward, though. I have to keep going. I'm scared of the drain, but I still spend an hour in the shower. I'm scared of the water, but my favorite place in the world is still on a boat in the middle of the lake. I'm scared to do this alone, but maybe something amazing will come of it.<br />
I think I'm going to face this dinosaur.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-79314094913707430032010-07-20T00:08:00.001-07:002010-07-26T00:42:16.676-07:00when you knowOne morning, it happens.<br />
<br />
You can't plan for it. You aren't expecting it. Maybe you've tried for weeks, for months, but you never thought it would happen so suddenly.<br />
But then it does.<br />
<br />
I'm caught off guard by something that should be spectacular. Cue the fireworks. I've hit the wall- the ultimate wall- the wall standing between me and the edge of my ability to reason a failing relationship. I don't need him anymore.<br />
Finally, I can carry myself.<br />
<br />
C,<br />
This is bittersweet. I love you, but I don't need you like I used to need you. I am happy to wake up alone. I am content to come home and tuck myself in. I am excited about life outside of when I'll see you next. I'm not sure if you gave me this, but you didn't deprive me of it, so I owe you a couple thank you's.<br />
<br />
First, for showing me love again. It has been a long road for us, in the grand scheme of things. You've been leading me on for at least a year. I've been enjoying it for just as long. Ultimately my appreciation for tears, feelings, smiles, and happiness has been dependent upon your provisions. Thank you for providing. Even for the tears.<br />
<br />
Second, for breaking my heart. I may be a masochist. I thrive on heartbreak. I can't write if I'm happy. I don't get into relationships that will be stable or amicable or perfect. I am drawn to frustrating, aggravating, disturbing situations. Ours was one. I loved every excruciating minute of it. But it's run its course.<br />
I feel stronger than I have been. I feel prouder than I have been. We haven't spoken in a week, and in that week I've written more, thought more, and grown more than I have in months. I've considered moving across the country. I've almost- check back in a week- committed to moving across the country. I've made progress on my thesis. I've cleaned my apartment and had a party for my friends. I've met new people. I've seen new things. I've flown. I've sung. I've lived.<br />
A month ago I'd have spent that time waiting for you.<br />
<br />
Until tonight I didn't realize how much time it'd been. It's been a while. I won't lie and say I don't miss you; I do. Like crazy. But I'm not incapable of surviving anymore.<br />
That is a huge step forward.<br />
<br />
<i>I hope you know that I tried.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>I never wanted to give you away </i><br />
<i>I still love you </i><br />
<i>but I don't need you </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I just couldn't say it better myself.<br />
L<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*Lyrics from O-Town's I Still Love You</i></span>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-9304279843811410092010-07-08T00:45:00.000-07:002010-07-08T00:45:15.521-07:00leftover fireworksKids down the street are still setting off loud, obnoxious, fire-spewing noise-makers. I assume they are kids, which is in their best interest. I can't hit kids. It has been 3 days since the 4th of July. Two questions: 1) Why aren't they done with their fireworks yet? It's been 3 days! 2) Why do I assume they have to use up all their fun in one day? These kids might just be on to something.<br />
I'm not though, so it pisses me off. I'm a user. I use everything up until I'm done with it. Immediately. Unless it- whatever it may be- decides to walk away before I'm finished, it's getting used up. This generally applies to ice cream, beer, boys, and money. Most of these don't go before I'm done. The ones that do, well, who am I kidding? If you're reading this, you know what happens to those that leave before I finish with them. They stick around. I don't let them go. They haunt my dreams and show up during the day. They appear at my neighborhood bar and know people in my classes. They walk by at the mall and their names show up in interviews.<br />
If I don't use up all the spark I can get to, it keeps sparking. I'm not up for fire burns. I'm not in the mood to deal with injuries again. I would rather use up all the damn fireworks when they're called for, so I can move on. Give myself another year before I have to step into that death trap again.<br />
But I've still spent a year burning myself on sparklers... I have very little room to complain.<br />
I just keep lighting them.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-65355316818389537972010-06-19T02:43:00.000-07:002010-06-19T02:43:37.061-07:00if onlyAll it takes is 5 minutes.<br />
<br />
So many days I have an aching feeling all over my body. It manifests mostly in my shoulders, and some days burns into my lower back. It stings when I first wake up and turns into a dull ache that lasts most of the day. The days I wake up without the pain are the days I wake up next to C.<br />
<br />
Turns out I don't even need to be next to him. He's 3 hours away tonight, but a quick text message has already lifted so much of the pressure I'd anticipated waking up to tomorrow.<br />
<br />
Just 5 minutes, and an unlimited texting plan, and everyone wakes up happy.<br />
<br />
If only it were always so simple.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-91016508123898368952010-06-16T20:51:00.000-07:002010-06-16T23:32:39.967-07:00ringingPicture your life without cell phones. (Take 30 seconds to really let it sink in.) I'm guessing you are home, reading at a leisurely pace, so you may not be as worried as you could be, but keep picturing. Now, where is your family? Where are your friends? You significant other? What are your plans for the night? What are your plans for tomorrow? Do you know what you're doing this weekend? Are you worried yet? Is it wrong that I am on the edge of my seat with anticipation?<br />
<br />
C's cell phone fell into a sink last week while I was on my mini-vacation. Accidents happen, but I am such a worrier that there is no space for accidents on my watch. C was in charge of babysitting Killer, my cat/child. Without knowing that the phone had become inoperable, I was frantic worrying about whether Killer was being fed, getting water, getting attention, still alive. I came back home a day early. Didn't hear from C for a couple days, so I started to worry if he was fed, getting water, getting attention, still alive. He showed up in the middle of the night a couple days later, all is well. But without phone access he didn't have my number, and I had no access to him aside from calling him at work and exposing myself for the unreasonable worrier I am. He wasn't worried at all. He visited Killer every day until he noticed my stuff had reappeared. He STILL has not replaced his phone, and he is completely relaxed about it. I misplaced my phone for 20 minutes and my life flashed before my eyes.<br />
<br />
The problem with this situation isn't that I am too attached to my technology. It isn't not having access to my baseball scores or expensive device that bothers me. What is burning inside my head when I'm without my phone is that I don't know ANYTHING. Suddenly I cannot remember where I'm supposed to be. I don't have any way to find anyone who does know where I'm supposed to be. I don't know who would know. I cannot text anyone. I cannot check facebook for clues. I get lost in my own mind. C not having a phone is killing me, and I rarely talk to him more than twice a week. Still, I call his phone once every few hours to see if it's still going to voicemail. I think just knowing he has access to a phone again will calm me a little.<br />
<br />
I know I'm not the only one. I depend on this phone for so much more than just phone calls. Look at just how many facebook and twitter updates are made by mobile devices. Even blog entries are written and posted from phones. This hyper-need to stay connected-- an unreasonable amount of connected-- has to be doing something to us for the long term. Knowing where everyone is, what they're doing, how they feel, all the time... there has to be some terrible after-effect.<br />
Or is this it? (As I call C. I'm obviously not too worried that this is the horrible ending to the obsession.)<br />
<br />
It's ringing. I can breathe again.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-45336550622379691832010-06-07T01:42:00.000-07:002010-06-07T01:42:48.641-07:00because/not becauseMade excuses. Some for him, some for me. Decided I am love sick, willing to put myself through bad to get good. Decided his phone dies frequently. Interesting, really, as he doesn't so much answer texts. Bad battery, that phone. I could stop liking him if I wanted to. He still loves me under that tough exterior. His friends don't like me because I intimidate them, not because they really don't like me. I'm still awake because I was cleaning, not because I am waiting for a call. I have to check my phone constantly because the volume is low. If he called after I went to bed, I'd still go get him. But because I don't want him to drive if he's tired or tipsy, not because I am that dependent. I'm waiting for him because he's going to feed my cat while I'm out of town, not because I want him. I'm still up thinking about him because... because... because no one else is worth thinking about at the moment. If someone worth thinking about came along, I'd think of them instead. Nothing wrong with that. This is all completely healthy. This relationship works in its own way. Its got special circumstances; we have very specific compatibility requirements. This works as well as it can with these restrictions. I'm totally happy with this limited interaction. I'm waiting up because I worry about his safety, not because if I fall asleep I might miss a call. <div><div><br />
</div><div>Next time I'm making excuses that help. </div><div>L</div></div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-58958008754270007602010-06-06T22:50:00.000-07:002010-06-07T00:51:52.225-07:00not another girl meets boyStuck somewhere between La Roux's "I'm Not Your Toy" and B.O.B.'s "Airplanes". I'm either happy or not. Somewhere between a minor chord and a major in my head. I'm as confused as Lady Gaga's parents must be when they look at baby pictures. Even my body is in limbo-- the front half of me is burnt to a deep lobster red, and the back half is plain and pale. I'm awake and alert but all I want to do is sleep it off. I really do not like this in between.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><i>Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i>Cos I could really use a wish right now.</i> </span></i></div><div><div><br />
</div><div>My wish would be for this burn to go away. I'm pretty completely sure that if this burn disappeared, all the other things plaguing my mind would fade pretty quickly. I spent the weekend at a soccer tournament, watching C play, like I did all last summer. Sitting in the grass and watching him coach from the back of the field, run on his extremely f-ed up leg, cooly defend his keeper... nothing could make me happier for 20 minutes at a time. But once the game ends, life gets back to normal. He's just as cool off the field. He nods at me. Smiles. And walks away. He texts one word answers and I text sentences back. I crave his attention and he basks in mine. </div><div>I've been doing this- we've been doing this- for a year. Officially for a year next Sunday. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i>It's all false love and affection. </i></div><div><i>You don't want me, you just like the attention.</i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>Stupid sparks. Gets in the way of everything. My brain cant differentiate between anger and love, so I am trapped in this spark-heavy trap. And everyone I meet, everyone I date, everyone I spend an hour getting to know, every one of them falls short. Not because they aren't great people. They are! They're fantastic! They are all perfect catches! But if my heart doesn't skip a beat, I don't have the urge to try anymore. Someone else gets my attention for a week, but it always goes back to C. </div><div>I'm sure thats how he likes it. I probably like it that way, too. Damn my spark-cravings. </div><div><br />
</div><div><i>Prom girl wipes her tears with silver lines, and she can't get enough. </i></div><div><i><br />
</i></div><div>I bring it all on myself. I know, but I like it. And if my sunburn went away, I could get back to enjoying the mess I've buried myself in. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I just love love. I love love too much. I love it so much that every emotion wants to be love. </div><div>But at least thats one thing I've got straight. </div><div>L </div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>**Lyrics from B.O.B.'s Airplanes, La Roux's I'm Not Your Toy, and Lady Gaga's I Like It Rough.</i></span></div></div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-52558630090536079922010-05-26T16:09:00.000-07:002010-05-26T16:09:40.101-07:00leavingAt what point does leaving become giving up?<br />
Maybe I'm asking because one of the most important people in my life moved across the country this morning. Maybe I'm asking because one of the most important loves of my life will not be moving across the state until next year.<br />
But really I'm asking because one of the shelves in my closet quit on me yesterday, rendering most of my closet useless until it is repaired. My closet gave up. The shelf was about 5 feet up on the wall. Under it hung all my dresses and coats, and above it rested many rubbermaid boxes full of computer cables, photos, games, videos, blankets, towels, and more boxes. The shelf came down, and everything else fell in along with it. Now I give up.<br />
Since I have to clean out my closet piece by piece anyway, maybe I should just pack and move. Leaving sounds like a really logical option. I have nothing to stay for, so maybe I go.<br />
Even my closet can't handle my life right now.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-68079677737716793522010-05-11T00:27:00.000-07:002010-05-11T00:27:40.066-07:00ordinaryNot settling for less than "extraordinary" is a lot more work than I remember it being. <div><br />
</div><div>At 19, everything was extraordinary. Every guy who looked my way was a step in the right direction. Every boy I fell for was spectacularly better than the last. I had a way of looking at each new love as though it were the most amazing thing that could ever happen to a girl like me. </div><div>I lost it. </div><div>Nothing is extraordinary anymore. Ordinary is all I can muster up. The only extraordinary moments are a select few with C- not all the time, anymore. But the point of this is not to dissect some moments with C. I'm introducing the next character in this soap opera drama: V.</div><div><br />
</div><div>V likes me. I like V more than I've liked anyone recently. We've been on 3 dates. I haven't once had to ignore a call or text from him. I don't feel like running away. I don't feel like running in, either. We are nothing extraordinary. We get along well in public and one-on-one. He is a good guy, I don't feel like I'm in danger of heartbreak. I'm not terribly worried that I'll hurt him, either. But thats not to say that I'm in this with all of me. I just think he seems rational enough to bounce back when I start ignoring his calls. </div><div>Once again, I'm missing the spark. </div><div>Is it settling if I wait this one out to see where it goes, even though the spark is obviously absent? Or can we just call that good sense? I think I've answered it for myself. </div><div>It's not extraordinary. It might be a bit better than ordinary, but I've had extraordinary, and this doesn't begin to compare. I'll give it a few more shots... but then back to the war path. </div><div>Hopefully he understands.</div><div>L</div><div><br />
</div>ellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-69143118658881858832010-04-26T22:49:00.000-07:002010-04-26T22:49:30.593-07:00my way(Just prose, been sitting in draft form, unfinished, for too long. Needed to be freed!)<br />
<br />
You set me free<br />
By doing what you've always done.<br />
What kept me here so long<br />
Is what's giving me the power to run.<br />
And I will.<br />
I will run.<br />
Because I'm not so sure how long my disenchantment will last.<br />
<br />
You're ignorant. Mean.<br />
You're indifferent and heartless.<br />
You didn't try.<br />
You let me try.<br />
You let me fight.<br />
You let me cry.<br />
You let me suffer.<br />
You let me destroy myself,<br />
And never tried to stop me.<br />
Where's the honor in that?<br />
Miserable.<br />
You are miserable.<br />
A miserable excuse for a man.<br />
A pathetic picture of a boy.<br />
<br />
Someday you'll know.<br />
And I hope it kills you to see all I saw.<br />
I hope it gives you nightmares.<br />
I hope it gives you chills throughout random days.<br />
I hope you suffer through heartache with no hope of escape,<br />
And I hope you make it to the other side.<br />
I hope you see how strong you have to be.<br />
You deserve to know first hand<br />
What you had<br />
What you did<br />
What I loved through.<br />
<br />
But I set me free.<br />
I had enough. I saw the end.<br />
You did what you did<br />
Over and Over.<br />
You never changed.<br />
You never felt.<br />
You never tried.<br />
And I felt enough for both of us.<br />
I loved enough for both of us.<br />
I tried.<br />
But not enough for both of us.<br />
Needed you,<br />
But that's not your style.<br />
<br />
So while I'm feeling stronger,<br />
While I know I can make the trip,<br />
I'm going.<br />
I'm letting myself feel other things-<br />
New things and fantastic things- <br />
Things that will give me new scars you could never think to inflict.<br />
I've been set free by exactly what had me so trapped.<br />
I just had to learn to sail through.<br />
Navigate the fantastic whirlwinds that got me caught on you.<br />
Fun at first, but unfortunate when I've stayed this long.<br />
I can get out now.<br />
<br />
And I'm on my way.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-38331336772764282432010-04-26T22:28:00.000-07:002010-04-26T22:28:19.609-07:00bring the windIt's time. I'm going to stop torturing myself for now.<br />
<br />
Here's to taking years of my own advice! I'm going to focus on what is already spectacular in my life, and say fuck the rest. I'm going to stand facing the sun and let every shadow fall behind me. I'm going to stop settling for anything less than extraordinary. I'm going to take a deep breath, count to ten, and be amazing.<br />
<br />
"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." -Louisa May Alcott<br />
<br />
Time to sail on.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-3890919801085367692010-04-26T01:12:00.000-07:002010-04-26T01:16:33.436-07:00reality bitesI'm not going to say it was the worst 10 minutes of my life, but it was in the top 25. Maybe top 20. I'd have to list them all to really get an accurate figure, and I'd rather not, since I've suppressed most of those memories already. I hope to suppress this one, too. Maybe I just need to get it out there first. I think I need to back up a little.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty easy to get along with. Not too many people dislike me, and the ones who do... well.. I don't know them very well, so I can't be entirely sure why they do. Most of those people hang out in the same place, all together, in a place I used to spend most of my nights. I don't frequent this establishment anymore, for a few reasons we really don't need to discuss. Point is that I rarely go. When I do, I'm usually the only person there.<br />
I went the other night. I thought, due to the empty parking lot and the lack of lights glowing through the windows, that I was late enough to be there alone. I was mistaken. I was completely mistaken. And I faced 4 people who don't think highly of me, and 1 person who apparently thinks less of me than of a termite. I'd have been fine, but that 1 person decided to make a few comments, not to me but to the room in general, which were entirely shots at me. At me. I was unprepared for the attack, and I have nothing against the speaker- well, I had nothing against the speaker- which left me with no reaction prepared but to smile politely, laugh it off awkwardly, and excuse myself from the situation before anyone could catch me crying.<br />
But wait, maybe the comments weren't meant for me? Maybe they were just random comments? Maybe just song lyrics stuck in someone's head or inside jokes from earlier in the night? Ehhhhh... no. The first thing he said when he got outside to me was "don't listen to them. just forget it."<br />
Complete humiliation.<br />
<br />
But not because I was ridiculed without my knowledge in front of people. Not because I was embarrassed by his friends in front of him. Not even because he let them.<br />
I was humiliated because everything that was said was true.<br />
And I knew it.<br />
And suddenly, I realized, everyone else knew it, too.<br />
<br />
I like to think my own stupidity is my own problem- if I can deal with it, then that's really all that matters. But 10 minutes on a Thursday night rearranged that whole thought process. I'm not proud of the reality. I romanticize it in my head to make it easier to handle. He's obviously framing it his own way as well. But either way, that's what I'm living. And hearing it for the first time in that situation, when I'm obviously uncomfortable and confused and caught off guard in the first place, just makes reality that much more of a slap across the face. It is still my reality, but now it is someone else's inside joke.<br />
<br />
Okay, I got it out there. I'm ready to suppress it now.<br />
Come on selective memory.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-34673259850148263052010-04-21T00:15:00.000-07:002010-04-21T00:15:28.897-07:00loves me like a rockMy head is a disaster. I have been repeatedly running myself into a rock, hoping that at one point the rock will reach out and hold me and tell me to stop doing it. Who am I kidding? It's a rock. I will keep running myself into it until I've learned my lesson. I've been running into it for 8 years. Book smart is not the same thing as common sense. Love sick is nothing if not ignorant. I am a fairy tale dreamer, and in my dream the rock eventually reaches out to love me.<br />
Waking up.<br />
<br />
Eventually this will all wear me down. I'm scared that one day I will lose my optimism. I don't want to become the woman who sees things realistically all the time. Much as it hurts, I would rather keep running into that damn rock, keep feeling the ups and downs, keep crying and screaming and smiling and hoping... I want to believe- always- that there is something worth believing in.<br />
<br />
One day that rock will hold me. Love me. Please don't let me forget that.<br />
The pain is starting to get dull. I'm starting to forget. I'm starting to give up.<br />
But if you aren't going to run at that rock with full force, then why bother running at all?<br />
So, rock, it is best for you to give in. I will keep running, and keep slamming into you, until I've worn out a cozy little hole for myself or broken you down in the process.<br />
Get ready to love me.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373332737410483824.post-36014479146626834602010-03-21T00:04:00.000-07:002010-03-21T00:05:21.767-07:00worth itI want to put out something new and amazing.<br />
Yea.. but I've got nothing.<br />
<br />
It has been one year and 5 days since the life-changing break-up that inspired this blog. I don't need to explain in too much detail what a trying year this has been in some ways, how amazing it's been in others, or how much I've changed- for better or for worse. I'm not as crazily ambitious as I was a year ago. I'm not as stable as I was a year ago. I'm not as careful as I was a year ago. I'm not as sad as I was a year ago, and not nearly as medicated.<br />
I was happy with J, but now I'm happy with me. That took a while. I'm not as driven as I used to be- in love, in life, in anything. Instead of my PhD, all I want now is some cross between adventure and stability that I'm pretty sure doesn't actually exist yet. I'll find it. I haven't found something yet that I cannot do. This year I've learned more about me than in any year or years before. I'm more confident than I was a year ago. I'm writing more than I was a year ago. I'm singing more than I was a year ago. I'm more me than I was a year ago. If I had to give up that love to find me again, then it was well worth it. There's still plenty of love around here.<br />
<br />
I've broken hearts, cried, smiled, chased butterflies, and had my heart broken. This has not been the best year of my life, no, but it has been an immensely important one. I'm learning all the lessons all over again. Yes, I whine about them, but they're worth it. The learning is the best part. The chasing, the falling, the shattering glass... it makes searching for that unattainable stability/adventure combination worth the ride.<br />
<br />
So, while I may just be sending this out into the void, thanks J. You made a big decision for both of us, and I've come back to life because of it.<br />
I'm not exactly new, but I feel pretty amazing.<br />
Lellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07151116727073820155noreply@blogger.com1